New Mexico / June, 1958 / 07:22

[bingobangobongo]

When Calavicci awoke, it was early. Too early to mention. Morning loomed as a concept -- darkness lingering in the pre-dawn hours. The horizon was just taking on some color, showing the contrast between the earth and the sky.

The drinking the evening before, coupled with the ridiculously long day they had shared sent Thrace to bed early. Albert had followed rather quickly, draped just as unceremoniously on his matching, opposing twin bed. The bed and breakfast had turned out to be a fine idea; a quiet and discreet get-away that appeared to be empty aside from the two of them.

Wiping away the sleep from his eyes, the young Lieutenant took a glance at his newly-found companion and was surprised to see she was already awake. He could tell she knew he was up -- her posture changed and her back straightened. Al squinted at her. "You okay?"

"Yeah."

He nodded and dropped back onto the bed, inexpertly tugging the bed quilt over himself. Covered from shoulder-to-knee, Calavicci tried to think about how nice it would be to catch a few more hours of sleep, but he was deterred from his goal by a niggling feeling. He listened to Kara's breathing, much shorter and hardly even compared to her sleeping state. It left him uneasy -- enough so that he didn't think he could cater to sleep.

"...borrow your car?" Barely there, her voice lost much of its inflection and strength.

Al sat up and found she'd turned even farther away. Her hair obscured her eyes, expression, everything the minimal light in the room would have allowed him to see. He was no fool, though: Being the type to appreciate women also afforded him insight into their mannerisms, and he could tell that something was definitely wrong. He nodded, even if Starbuck couldn't see it. "Yeah, I'll get the keys." While he had no clue where she was going, the way she said it told him he'd been right: something was amiss.

The keys were where he'd left them, half hanging from an empty beer bottle by the opener. Palming the keys, he fretted over the idea that he might never seen his beloved Lisa, the shiny red Corvette, ever again. He doubted Thrace would intend to steal it, just worried she might borrow it for a lot longer than he would have liked. "Sure I can't talk you into breakfast?" It was a puerile question in lieu of the mystery he'd already unraveled, but he thought it might help to break the tension.

When the Captain didn't answer, Calavicci frowned deeply. She had her hand outstretched for the keys, but she just didn't seem interested or able to respond. He took several tentative steps towards her and asked again, "Are you--"

"Fine," she snapped through her teeth and jabbed her palm-up hand at him in solicitation of the keys.

Al avoided her arm, small movements bringing him around her bed. Almost immediately, he could see the problem. Her knee, already aggravated from her crash landing, had swollen noticeably overnight. So much so that he could tell even with her flight suit covering it. Probably agitated from the minor amount of walking they had been forced to do while being held captive. He sympathized, familiar enough with trying to escape when there was no clear exit.

"Here." The offer of the keys didn't come without some hesitation. "But before you go--"

Thrace shook her head. "Don't." Her tone was low, almost dangerous.

But Bingo was not one to be put-off so easily. He cleared his throat and sat down uninvited next to her. "Now hold on, hear me out, all right? I think if you're going to take my car, you'd at least better let me have my say." Immediately, he could tell Kara was uncomfortable with the idea, but she remained sitting, her free hand pressed into her thigh, just above the knee.

Al cleared his throat, but it didn't help him to sound any more awake. "I know you're probably going to just... just go, but I'd like you to consider letting me help. I'm no doctor, but I can help." He'd dealt with his share of injuries and knew the principles of first aid well enough to feel confident in what he was offering. "Peeling off into the desert as fast the those wheels will take you is only going to distract you for a so long." He was pretty certain that had been her intention, and when she turned her determined face to look at him, he worried he might have been exactly right. She looked like she was in a considerable amount of pain and he hated to see it, but he wouldn't press.

For too long, they shared the quiet and the dark. The young Lieutenant could feel that she was shaking. The pressure she was putting on her upper thigh looked to be all she could do against the aching, swollen knee aside from grinding her teeth. "I would like to help," he finally revealed, hoping to take some of the stress or the decision off of her shoulders. "I promise I won't enjoy it too much."

Starbuck laughed, but it was more than that. Gasp, groan, hiss? All of it came out, pushed to the surface by his ridiculous comment. She only looked over for a second, but it was as clear an answer as Kara could give at the moment.

///

Preparations rarely went so smoothly. Calavicci took the steps in stride and precisely planned his shopping trip through the more intimate rooms of the bed and breakfast. He begged some Bufferin (a poor choice for this application, but better than nothing) from a locked downstairs bathroom, borrowed a tea towel full of ice, and outright stole a bottle of liquor from the cabinet, two glasses from the minibar, and a pair of shears from a kitchen drawer. It left him far too thrilled for his own good.

Hurriedly, he closed the door, noting the Captain had moved. She was pacing. Al deposited his provisions and fixed her with a look, dark gaze traveling up, lingering on the knee in question. Their eyes met and Kara lifted her chin. Needing no translation, the Lieutenant held off on any thoughts of lecturing.

"I've brought some things that should help." It wasn't so much a reminder of his intent as it was a reassurance that at least some relief was at hand. He took to emptying his pockets, dropping the bottle of Bufferin onto the bed.

Kara held her position. She didn't really like the idea, but she required Calavicci's help. She could have taken the car while he'd been gone but he was right: Even if she could drive, the throbbing pain in her knee was one hell of a distraction when she was at rest. She didn't quite know how to respond. "Uh, thanks."

Bingo busied himself with prep work, silent and dutiful in his task. His mind was wandering. He heard her shuffling behind him and it struck chord. That was a certain amount of stubborn bullheadedness there, wasn't there? He recognized that in the Captain as he sometimes did in himself. It would solve itself soon enough, he imagined. For as much resting as she had done, the pain appeared to have deepened. Rest would be a necessity.

His first step was simple. He lit a cigarette and immediately passed it off to Thrace. She took it, hit it, kept it and watched him. Calavicci then plucked up the bottle (it was whiskey) and poured two hearty double shots, each in a borrowed glass. He offered one and she accepted it with her other hand, leaving her without those extra balance points.

"It's a good pain reliever," Al explained.

Starbuck, hands shaking, dropped back the alcohol without a pause. She ran her arm across her chops and finally she sat. "You in pain?" Since he was drinking, she thought she'd ask.

"I'm here, aren't I?" He shook his head, an unfortunately short row of laughter escaping him. "It's a shame to have to drink alone."

Thrace nodded and watched him drink it down slower and smoother. And then he collected her glass and coupled it with the other.

Next was the Bufferin. He gave her two, but he didn't have any water. No matter, she took them dry, swallowing and succeeding to get them down unaided. Kara didn't know if it was the alcohol or his approach, but she noticed some relief. Only now remembering the cigarette, she ashed it in her free hand and took another hit. It seemed absurd to act so normally.

"You're going to have to let me get a look at that knee." Al's voice, low and gritty, was not commanding at all. It was curiosity, in part, but he also felt she would assess the damage done much differently than he might. If the roles had been reversed, the Lieutenant would have been professing his ability to run a marathon and dreaming of crutches in between his words.

Kara had been expecting it. "Yeah, fine." She hadn't looked in a while, anyway. Bingo held up the scissors, but she shook her head and passed off the almost dead cigarette before maneuvering herself halfway out of the flight suit. If it was all she had left of her old life, she wanted to preserve it.

Al tried hard not to look too intently. Under most circumstances he would was stared rather unabashedly, but he knew there was a time and place for such things and this was not it.

His first glimpse of the damage was a redness at her thigh where she had been pressing for who knows how long. It wasn't anything serious. Below that, the damage was more extensive. Her knee was angry and bruised but mostly just swollen. He could tell there had been troubles there before but he didn't need to tell her that. "It's pretty bad," he told her in the most sober of manners.

She didn't respond but she knew he was right. It would have been nice to have good, old, familiar Doc Cottle there but that was far too much to ask.

When he went to retrieve the tea towel and ice, Calavicci came back to find that Thrace had relaxed back a little more. The Bufferin was probably working some of it's magic and the ice would help even more. As carefully and gently as he could, he pressed the makeshift coldpack against her knee and winced in empathy when she did.

It was strange for him to be so close to a woman without being in a more intimate position. His fingertips touched her leg in one place or another while he held the pack; Al could tell just how rough his hands were in comparison. On another occasion, he certainly would have taken the time to show his appreciate for the female form but he, for once, couldn't put his mind of the sexual nature that could be gleaned from such proximity. Factually, he couldn't even relax until he felt that extra tension, caused by his application of ice, leave her.

Kara placed a hand next to his on the tea towel, taking charge of her own care now that he had provided some relief. Their hands didn't touch, but the contrast was enough to gain both their attentions. Al, olive and tanned, stood out against the tea towel and made Kara's pale hand look somehow smaller.

Calavicci felt like it was a quiet moment of understanding. They weren't all that different -- similar in principals and thrills, ambitions and expectations. When he finally removed his hand, he saw the look of appreciation in Starbuck's tight smile. But really, he didn't think it was anything she wouldn't have done for him.

Comments

[bingo-faced.livejournal.com]

Godsdamn, eh? Well, wasn't that interesting? Just another piece in a puzzle that Al needed to keep reminding himself he wasn't supposed to piece together. The less he knew, the better. The less he knew, the less he might have to attest to.

"Sure, I could," he agreed, amiably. "But that doesn't mean I haven't spent my share in places not meant for a pair to be." Oh, the places he will go!

[anekanta.livejournal.com]

"Yeah?" Well, wasn't that interesting? It certainly piqued Kara's interest, anyway. So it was probably foolish and clearly a terrible idea, but she'd done stupider things than... warm up in the arms of a man she'd never see again.

There was no backing off now, she guessed, not after he'd taken the bait. Passing back the last of the bottle, Kara gave him a significant smile. "Impress me with your capacity for creativity, then, lieutenant." And if she issued it like a challenge, well who could blame her? She'd "beaten" him at one game this evening, and Kara been counting on the man to be spoiling for another opportunity to best her.

[bingo-faced.livejournal.com]

"Aye, aye, sir." And already, he was formulating a plan. While it was a bit chilly out, they weren't going to freeze to death from exposure. Despite the option, Calavicci felt they'd be better suited with a couple walls to stave off the wind, and a floor to put them up off the ground.

Several thoughts immediately came to mind, most of which involved some form of breaking and entering. While this was the first place his mind went, Al decided he'd best call that plan B for the sake of his astronomical astronautical ambitions. "You prefer surprises, or would you rather choose your options?" Either way was sporting, so he left it up to her.

[anekanta.livejournal.com]

She did not like unexpected surprises as a rule, but as long as she knew something was coming - something she would enjoy - she was all right with it. "Surprise me," she said, confidently.

A chilly wind blew across the pain and Kara shivered. "And quickly, huh?" she tossed in with a little laugh. She could really have used another shot right about now - it'd probably put her over and make her curse the existence of the sun in the morning, but it'd go a long way to warming her up.

[bingo-faced.livejournal.com]

He nodded. "Yeah, no problem. Just... take 'er easy and I'll check out our options." There were enough houses about, even widely parceled, that he thought a good five or ten minutes of searching would net him a few nice little niches. It was always a bit harder in the country, but he was resourceful kind of guy.

Leaving her behind wasn't his favorite idea, but he decided it was better than making her aggravate an injury she likely didn't feel like she had at the moment.

Fortune favored the young pilot (are we surprised?) and he arrived back to Kara within his internally imposed time restriction. "It's not far," he told her, wishing he had a jacket or something he could turn over to her. "It'll be perfect, I think." All he had to do was lead her down to the end of the next block and just around the corner. In all, it wouldn't add too much to her troubled injury.

[anekanta.livejournal.com]

Kara followed him to a neat one-story house set a few yards back from the road. A sapling was tied to a stake in the middle of the yard - clearly one of the tenants had big dreams of a great oak providing shade one day. She thought it unlikely a tree would thrive in this unfavorable climate, but it was nice people still dreamt good things would happen. The gods knew that was often the only thing holding the Colonial Fleet together.

Unsure of his plan but not unwilling to steal his thunder, Kara crossed the lawn. There were no lights on inside that she could see, but she headed toward the screened in porch tacked onto the side of the house. Locating a hole in the screen near the handle, Kara reached in and lifted the latch. Clearly she hadn't been the first person to, uh, forget her keys.

Kara tossed a smirk over her shoulder, whispering loudly, "As good as an invite, huh?"

[bingo-faced.livejournal.com]

Moments like these were what made life interesting in Al's opinion. He half gaped at Kara's sudden need to break into some person's house. Invite or not, it wasn't quite what he had been thinking. "Now, hold on there, pal. If you wanted to spend the night in jail, you should've just said so," he whispered, trying to hold back a sudden and inopportune bout of The Giggles.

He reached out and pressed the screen door closed and shooed her hands away from the lock. "Let's not get too ahead of ourselves," he urged, turning them away from the door and leading her into the fence-in backyard. Placed center was an old oak tree (some great-great-great grandmother of the baby up front) and nestled expertly amidst the thick summer leaves was a pretty sturdy looking tree house. "I think this is at least a little less exposed," he reasoned. "Wasn't sure about your knee, though, so..." So, he would keep the porch in mind, in other words.

[anekanta.livejournal.com]

She blew out a little huff, expressing her exasperation. "You're no fun at all," she accused him in a loud whisper. Of course, she was still following him eagerly, her blood already warming thanks to the amateur B & E.

She appraised the steps nailed into the side and rolled her eyes good naturedly at Calavicci. She clambered up the trunk and pulled herself easily up into the tree house, looking back down at him through the hole in the floor. "Waiting for me to ask you up?" she whispered down to him.

By the time he joined her, Kara had unearthed all sorts of treasure. There was a sleeping bag (only partially moth-eaten) in one corner and a gas lantern balanced on a few misshapen bricks. Also - and this was the real treat - a short-wave radio, tuned to the weather.

[bingo-faced.livejournal.com]

Wishing they hadn't run out of refreshments, but willing to call it a night, Bingo kicked off his loafers. "It's a bit cozy, isn't it?" Not exactly warm, but with two bodies to provide some radiant heat, he thought it might be pretty comfortable come morning.

A cigarette got his attention first, the light from the match illuminating his face briefly. The match was re-purposed for the gas lantern, which Bingo carefully lit. He turned it down until he thought it was on the verge of going out -- a low light level that smoothed out all the rough lines in their world.

The floor felt harder than he would have liked, but it was up off the ground. He put out his feet and settled, his mind wandering a bit. It wouldn't be long before he was back in Florida, and then she would be off to wherever. He thought about how much he'd come to know of her, and realized it must have been so little of the whole. He thought about how he could easily see them sitting together in a bar in five years, chewing over stories of their glory. He thought about how he could probably convince the Navy she was just some talented pilot he'd stumbled across. At least then she'd be back in the air.

"You know, I could probably help you if you'd let me." Smooth, Calavicci -- the perfect way to broach the subject. The young lieutenant found a sticker on the floor. It was half torn away and he put himself to working on the rest. "I know some people, and I've got friends I really trust that would help you any way they could. You don't have to just... go it alone." He realized, though, that if it were him, he'd probably take it solo, too.

[OOC: ILU!]

[anekanta.livejournal.com]

Kara lay down on the floor opposite Calavicci, propping herself up on one elbow. Something was jabbing into her hip, so she reached into her pocket to find his lighter. Rather than give it back straight off, she contented herself to flick the top open and closed, open and closed, open and closed as she pondered his offer.

The way she saw it, she was beyond help. Unsure of just how things worked on Earth, she was going solely on what she knew of home - in the Colonies, people needed documentation to work. Frak, they needed papers just to exist. She had nothing and no way even to forge a good fake since she didn't even know what an original looked like. And explaining how a person came to crash land in the middle of the desert in The Americas without any identifying information anywhere? Well... that'd take some skillful lying, the likes of which even Kara was unsure she could come up with.

She glanced at him, studying his face in the low light. "Thanks for the offer, but I think I need to... figure some things out before I drag anyone else into this." And sure, she'd technically already brought him into her life, but it was only temporary. Right?

[bingo-faced.livejournal.com]

"Fair enough," Calavicci conceded. At least she wasn't still acting as if she didn't need help in the first place. But, of course, that was just another thing that he couldn't really claim would be different if it were him and not her. "Well, toss my name in the cap if you ever do go lookin'. I'd be an honor, Captain." A genuine sentiment if ever there was one.

He was afraid to look at his watch, but a cursory glance convinced him that it was earlier than he had originally suspected. Not that any of that mattered -- it was already well past any decent bedtime.

Al wondered just how much control Thrace would be able to give over -- how much she would be willing change to become just another face in society. And he wondered just how different things could and would be for her without family, friends, the life she once new.

[anekanta.livejournal.com]

"Past your bedtime, Lieutenant?" she asked, forcing levity into her voice. The tension had grown thick in the small space, and she was eager to cut through it. Kara figured laughter was the best thing for it, as he didn't seem too keen on the alternative.

She rolled onto her back, resting her head on her arm. She lit one last cigarette, blowing smoke rings into the hazy, humid night air trapped in the tree house. She could feel perspiration tricking down her neck, cutting through the road grime collected there. Gods, she'd be glad to dip her toes into the ocean (presuming it was clean enough to be swum in).

She tossed the pack to Calavicci and offered back his lighter. "Share one more before you drop off, all right?" She wasn't half as tired as she should have been, not yet, and she didn't want to lie awake too long on her own.

[bingo-faced.livejournal.com]

Bingo amiably took the pack of cigarettes and fished himself one. They were getting low, but they'd make it well into the morning. "'M all right." But he sounded a little sleepy. He put flame to cigarette, then set both the pack and the lighter aside for morning. Following her example, he laid back and propped his head with the arm opposite her. "It's a lot warmer in here already," he remarked. "Not the first time I've stayed the night in one of these, either."

He puffed thoughtfully on his cigarette for a couple extra moments and then turned his head to Kara. "This girl -- Franny was her name -- took me. I think I was..." Al squinted. "Eleven. Maybe twelve. Wasn't even her tree house, but we didn't care. I even brought cookies." He laughed. "She practically brought a marriage license and a baby carriage." Bingo laughed and looked back at the ceiling, puffing away.

[anekanta.livejournal.com]

Kara laughed, remembering getting up to such juvenile antics (well into her twenties) fondly. "Once there was this kid, Michael something- something with a- oh, right, Michael Wheeler! Right, well, once he followed me up into a tree house." She turned, smirking at Bingo in the near-dark. "I pushed 'im out of the tree." She shrugged, turning her face toward the ceiling. "He made it just fine, barely a scratch on 'im. Quit climbin' trees, though." And boy, had he.

Venturing another glance in Calavicci's direction, she asked, "So why didn't you make an honest girl of poor Franny?" She was teasing, of course - no one found love at the age of eleven-maybe-twelve - but the question occurred to her so naturally, she couldn't stop herself asking.

[bingo-faced.livejournal.com]

An unexpected query, but he found it to be amusing. "Well, that's a good question, Kara. Truth be told, Franny was a bit too controlling for my tastes. I'd just gotten a little bit of freedom and she starts giving me what-for because I left my shoes off in the middle of the room." He snickered and shook his head. "She threw her shoe at me before I finally realized what was good for me and beat feet.

"Tell you what, though, I learned a good lesson that day; never left my shoes sittin' around again." The young pilot ashed his cigarette far away from them and then switched up his position and turned onto his side.

He had to admit to himself that his new found companion was looking much happier. Perhaps not completely relieved, but there was a lightness that he hadn't seen before. "You expect a guy to give all his freedom just for goin' up into a tree house with a chick?" Of course she didn't, but it was amusing him, nonetheless.

[anekanta.livejournal.com]

"Of course I do," she replied gravely, turning onto her side to look at him. "Where I'm from, that's the most solemn a vow a person can make." It was hard to see in the dark, but she could almost taste his minute measure of panic at her absurd lie.

Kara let him twist in the wind for a moment, but unwilling to cause him too much anguish, she laughed. "Or it's not and you're an easy target, Lieutenant, whatever you like." Pillowing her head on her arm, she shifted around in an attempt to make herself comfortable.

"So after you left Franny in the tree house in Detroit, what next? You had to do something between then and enlisting other than leave a trail of broken-hearted little girls a mile wide in... Mishigin." So yeah, she'd hesitated a bit, but she'd caught herself in time, right? If nothing else, she was a fast learner - and better than that, she was an even faster liar.

[bingo-faced.livejournal.com]

"Well, I did lots of thing." He leaned over and put out his cigarette, followed immediately by the oil lamp. Plunged into darkness, Al had to recall Kara's position before settling himself down. "Did what I could to find myself because I realized no one was going to do it for me."

He found himself pressed close enough to her that he could feel their shoulders touching. It was warm and familiar in a way that made him comfortable; he always sleeps better with a warm body close by. "Learned some of the best lessons when I was that age, so then I didn't feel so green when I got out into the world. Some of those guys fresh in with me practically had their names still written in their long johns."

Remembering fondly, and not quite ready for sleep, Calavicci turned toward Kara again, this time relieving her of some of the closeness and putting a couple inches between them. He couldn't really see her, so the gesture was practically pointless, but he felt better having the conversation as he normally would. "And you? What as growing up as Kara Thrace like?" He had a feeling this was going to be good.

[anekanta.livejournal.com]

His was something of a non-answer, wasn't it? Still, she couldn't fault him for not wanting to divulge too much - who was she to him, anyway? And the less she knew, the less she'd have to lie about later if questioned.

She wrapper her arms around herself, still chilled despite the warmth in the small space. She didn't have many fond memories of her childhood, but those that she did involved her father, so she thought of him.

"Pretty quiet," she said at long last. "Usually, I even managed to stay out of trouble." Laughing softly, her eyes followed the cherry on his cigarette, trying not to think about how like a Cylon's single eye it appeared.

"I thought I was gonna be a pro ball player, though - went to training for a summer out of school, too." She shrugged, though of course the movement was lost in the dark. "Didn't happen, and here we are." And that was the abridged version to be sure.

[bingo-faced.livejournal.com]

And there it was, The History of Kara Thrace, as told from her very own perspective. He thought it sounded uncharacteristic of the woman he'd come to know, but that hardly meant a thing. No one would have ever thought he resembled himself in some of those years past. "Well, the pros probably would have been a shameful waste of a good pilot's talent," he reasoned.

It wasn't innate, but Bingo got the impression that his friend was cold. He squished out any remaining cigarette and then leaned over Kara to retrieve the sleeping bag. While sharing such intimate space, Al could smell the alcohol and the cigarettes and the very different scent that Kara had compared to anyone he had ever met. There was something almost... exotic, he thought, but convinced himself he'd be asking for trouble if he dwelt on it too long.

As he laid back down, he noted that the sleeping bag, even unzipped and open, wasn't hardly big enough for the both of them. He couldn't complain, though; it was enough to be sheltered and out of the winds -- he hadn't expected such good luck. Opting to leave her the slack, Al laid back onto the floor.

The more time spent together, the more miserably Al looked forward to feeling when she went. At least they'd managed to share something of themselves instead of completely blocking themselves off for the sake of their careers. Besides, how could anyone feel their companionship was threatening? All either of them had basically done was boast over their trouble-making skills while remaining within dubiously defined, but respectable boundaries.

Feeling suddenly unsettled by his own mind, he asked, "Would you ever go up there? Up into space?" It was one hell of a risk, but what a payoff!

[anekanta.livejournal.com]

She heard one part wonder and one part worry in his voice. Though she was likely misreading his concern as having to do with voyaging into the stars, she understood it. She'd grown up in an age of near-space travel, so moving around in her own galaxy was nothing to her. However, when the Fleet had begun making uncharted jumps all over the place, the vastness of space became just one more omnipresent threat to humanity's survival.

Sensing Calavicci needed some reassurance (and needing some herself), she moved a bit closer, brushing her shoulder against his. Her fingertips alit on his forearm fleetingly before she laid her hand between them. For a scant moment, she felt like a nervous-scared-excited kid, breathing in the sticky humidity of summer air and looming adulthood. That's what the scratchy pine floor of tree houses were for, weren't they? Dreaming and growing up at the same time?

"I would. In a heartbeat." Because even though it was deadly and dark and so, so far across, exploring and finding the dangers was better than not knowing there was something out there worth facing.

[bingo-faced.livejournal.com]

The certainty in her voice, the contact, even the consistent rhythm of her breathing was enough to sooth some of the young pilot's ruffled feathers. He wasn't often prone to bouts of worry, not this adventurous spirit, but he couldn't forget the fact that any one minor mistake in space was akin to a gigantic mistake earthside. "That's good," he admitted, and had no problem picturing her in the co-pilot chair, strapped next to him and hanging over tons and tons and tons of solid rocket fuel.

"It's not like I don't have a couple years to think on it," he mused, a chuckle playing on his lips. It was easy to dismiss his fears and trepidation, but Calavicci preferred to live within it. Something about having that constant, looming, impending action allowed Bingo to keep on his toes. He often thought it was the reason he was so rarely caught off guard. "By the time I get finished with all the tests and paperwork and training, I'll be old enough to be the first retiree in space."

[anekanta.livejournal.com]

The combination of a day’s travel, liquor, and warmth was making her drowsy, so she only managed a small laugh in response. “I doubt it,” she said, shifting around a bit more, nesting further under the sleeping bag until she was more comfortable. “I bet you’ll be up there before you know it.” And it was true. If her experience was anything to go by, it had felt like weeks between welcoming ceremonies at the Academy and her first solo flight that took her out of atmosphere (though in reality, it had been years). Time does fly, though.

Fighting to keep her eyes open, she asked, “What do you think you’ll see?” He’d have an answer at the ready whether Calavicci knew it or not - Kara remembered having her own ideas about what lay beyond the blanket of stars over Caprica. Of course, she’d seen plenty of images from up there, and had even gone puddle jumping with her dad to a few of the other Colonies when she was growing up, but near-space travel on an Eagle commuter flight was nothing compared to seeing it from a cockpit. No amount of battle footage or navigation lessons could properly prepare anyone for the experience of traveling amongst the stars, and she guessed whatever Earth knew of space was speculation at best, so the man beside her likely as not had nothing more than his imagination to go on.

[bingo-faced.livejournal.com]

Al had been imagining his answer all his life. The stars were a fascinating, mystical and distant force; an ever-tugging allure that called to him ever before he knew he wanted to be there. "It's going to be vast," he finally replied, his voice carrying a boyish wonder. It was the best word he could come up with, but he thought that Kara would understand.

"Just imagine all the celestial bodies, burning and spinning and waiting. For us." The prospects were endless and the possibilities far-stretching. It all seemed so close -- practically within Al Calavicci's reach. "'Course, I won't see a lot of it. Just ain't meant to be, you know? Maybe my kids' kids, but right now, I'll count myself lucky just to make it to space. Not something everyone can say," he pointed out.

When he turned onto his side he faced Kara, fully intent on closing his eyes and getting a little well-needed rest, even if his mind didn't seem ready to stop. "Really, I don't think my terrestrial dreams would take me too far. I kind of like it here." And that was very much the truth. If it came down to it, Bingo would choose to stay home, if given the choice between that and being a lone explorer, off into the universe all by his lonesome.

He felt tired, but charged. It was good to have a friend -- especially one not so quick to judge. Even if he never saw Kara Thrace ever again, he could easily call himself lucky for stumbling across her. Feeling chilled (and perhaps slightly emboldened,) he used one arm as his pillow and draped the other across her midsection. Through a yawn, he asked, "What about you? What d'you think you'd see?"

[anekanta.livejournal.com]

Kara had been teetering right on the edge of sleep, letting Calavicci’s gravelly voice and his hopeful tone lull her. The arm across her middle awakened her, though, and she blinked at him in the dark. From the light of the moon slanting through the rough-hewn window, she could just make him out, and there was suddenly far less space between them than there had been before. Nearness and the offer of mutual comfort had been her aim all along, though, and she merely pressed a bit closer and closed her eyes.

She considered his question for a long moment before making any reply. She’d seen stars and nebulae and storms that had raged for thousands of years, and if she’d had the time to enjoy them, perhaps she could rhapsodize on their beauty, but usually she hadn’t had much time to look at the scenery. More often than not, everything around Kara was a tactical position, a target, an obstacle. No matter what the philosophers and poets said, war held no beauty, not for Kara.

Still, she could hardly go on about inter-galactic travel and dogfights with the Cylons, could she? She tried to remember how thrilled she’d been to play among the stars when she was just a novice pilot – how she’d learned to roll and turn her bird in midair, ducking behind tiny, barren moons and flitting in and out of the wide asteroid belt past Tauron in an elaborate game of hide and seek with the rest of her class. A smile came to her lips and she tucked her head closer to Calavicci’s as though imparting a secret. “Adventure,” she said. And that was true. An escape from being Kara Thrace had been all she’d wanted, once.

[bingo-faced.livejournal.com]

Her answer, admittedly much better than his, caught his breath in his throat and forced him to swallow down the ridiculous amount of ambivalence it created. He lifted his head only just, but it afforded him a peek at the stars through the window. If nothing else, the woman (now "in his arms," he'll have the world note) was certain adventure was what lurked in the heavens. And here, he was starting to feel like she'd brought it along with her.

In the dark of night with the summer breeze drifting through, Al Calavicci wasn't sure whether he was feeling relief or mercy. They weren't clean, or sober; he thought he might be laying on a nail, bent over inexpertly and forced halfway into the wood. It was a little chilly, too. And here he was, not caring one bit about anything but the smell of her hair. Even after a bit of hard living, it had a scent not all-together unpleasant.

He rested his head back down and thought himself smart to enjoy her all he could, even if it was a thing as simple as huddling for warmth, or as intangible as the scent of her hair. As far as he was concerned, this was some kind of privilege. As if she proclaimed herself special, and he knew it to be true.

With the settled quiet, he wondered if she was asleep, but didn't risk waking her by asking. There was at least a little time left.