Author’s Disclaimer: "Battlestar Galactica," the characters, and situations depicted are the property of Ron Moore, David Eick, SciFi, R&D TV, Sky TV, and USA Cable Entertainment LLC. This piece of fan fiction was created for entertainment not monetary purposes. Previously unrecognized characters and places, and this story, are copyrighted to the author. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author. This site is in no way affiliated with "Battlestar Galactica," SciFi, or any representatives of the actors whose characters are involved.
Author’s Notes: This story was written for the resurrect_ships unconventional 'ships challenge/ficathon. The main requirements were that it had to be an unconventional pairing of characters that appeared onscreen in "Resurrection Ship, Part 1."
I had all sorts of ideas for a Gina/Cain, Cain/Kara, Gina/Cain/Kara set up. Even toyed with a delightful Cain/Roslin idea or two. But alas, all of those ideas dried up and I struggled for a while…until this just started pouring out, almost as a stream of consciousness piece. It does vacillate between past and present tenses, but I haven't decided if I really want to choose one or the other, given the very nature of how it came into fruition.
Dedication: To my muses, who always find ways to exasperate and impress me.
by A. Magiluna Stormwriter
"Well, I see you got it to eat. That's progress I suppose. Can you make it roll over? Beg?"The memory comes on suddenly, a silent tsunami of emotion, wrenching me from what has passed for sleep of late. Perhaps sleep isn't the appropriate word. More like hours spent futilely staring at the ceiling, praying for oblivion, only to catch a few random bursts of REM sleep. Just enough to still function. Oh that's right, I don't function, do I? I'm a frakking Cylon. I don't need the sleep. I don't need the sustenance. I don't need the human interaction. Do I?
Taking a deep breath, I can't help but peer curiously, fearfully around me, gathering my bearings again before venturing to leave the relative safety of my bed. Yes, I do still have flashbacks to be locked up in the brig, of you watching as your minions had their way with me. And yes, Helena, I still have vivid flashbacks of you having your way with me, using that mouth of yours for more than issuing orders to your underlings.
Where are you now, Helena? Does it bother you, wherever you've gone to, knowing that I still refer to you so intimately? We were so good together, you and I. In the end, did it really frakking matter that I'm a Cylon? Did it honestly change your feelings for me? How could my origins change what you felt for me? It certainly never changed what I've felt for you. Not even in the face of the beatings, the rapes, the brutality in the aftermath of my discovery. I always maintained a glimmer of hope that one day you'd remember what I meant to you, realize I'm not like the rest of the frakking Cylons.
But that time never came, did it? You never could see past the negatives. And you certainly never could go back on your word. That would make you weak, indecisive. What a bad example to give your crew. Did you really think that Pegasus was the sole remaining ship in the fleet? Even I wasn't that naïve. Nor do I think many others among your crew honestly were. They merely followed your lead. Better than death, isn't it?
Sometimes I wonder what would have happened if you'd just let me die back then? Back when my secret was discovered. Secret. Hard to call it a secret when I didn't even frakking know about it. And yet you still treated me as if I'd known all along and purposely set out to get into your bed and frak you over. Seems that's more your style, isn't it, Helena? Get close to a person, use them until you get what you want, then discard them like so much trash?
Only I got under your skin. You couldn't get rid of me as easily as you wanted, could you? You wanted to control me. But I know your secret, Helena Cain. I have all along, to be honest. You wanted me to control you, take the burden of leadership, of control from you for a time. And in stripping away that uniform of yours, removing your armor piece by slow piece, it was easy to see the chinks in your defenses, find the holes to weasel my way into. Yes, perhaps I always have been unconsciously aware of my true nature. And if that's the case, then I fully accept my part in your downfall. Even before shooting you, I was the instrument of your destruction.
And you knew it.
Perhaps that's the reason you allowed the atrocities against me that you did. I still wonder why you didn't just allow them to kill me. Or do it yourself. What possible reason could you have had to keep me alive all that time? You certainly didn't use me to the extent that you could have. No, you didn't do that until you had an audience, until the rest of the fleet was found and you realized you weren't the sole law in the galaxy anymore. Is that why Gaius was called in to "interrogate" me? To save face with Roslin?
And the extended brutality you showed me? Was that nothing more than a show of bravado? Was it some gross parody of our past lovemaking? That rough manhandling that left bruises, blatant marks for others to see? You always did seem to like an audience, and a captive audience is all the better. Gaius certainly fit the description, didn't he?
Thoughts of this nature really aren't going to do me any good, are they? No matter what else happens, I can't change the past. And I've certainly wanted to in many cases. Did you know I begged Gaius to kill me? God says suicide is a sin. I couldn't do it myself. It ended up being his idea for helping me escape. For allowing me to kill you, once and for all. I don't know that I can trust him anymore than I honestly trusted you. But I've been given another chance at life.
And the best part of it all, Helena? Outside of people from Pegasus, and a few from Galactica itself, no one know what I truly am. I've become an integral part of the Cylon sympathizers' movement. Can you believe it? They have no idea, none at all.
Now? Death isn't as high a requirement for me. I've got a cause. A purpose in life.
And no nightmares of your abuses can fully deter me anymore, not now or ever again.
You're no longer my captor. I don't have to answer to you any longer. I answer to God now. And God is a far easier taskmaster than you ever were.
Rot in hell, Helena Cain.