DISCLAIMER: All characters belong to Ron Moore and BSG's production
complany and use of them here is not intended to infringe, nor to
make any profit. This story depicts a loving relationship between
women. If you have objections, don't read it. You have been duly
SPOILERS: Up to and including Resurrection Ship, Part 1.
ARCHIVING: Only with the permission of the author.
Before, During and After
"Do you always get what you want?"
Kara Thrace relaxed her posture ever so slightly at the question directed at her by Admiral Cain. She hadn't moved quite out of attention, but the step that the Admiral had taken just a little too far inside her well-guarded personal space and the low tone of the woman's voice had caused her to let her guard down just a little. This woman who was about to execute two of her friends and had tried to humiliate Adama a man she respected more than anyone in the galaxy frightened her. Of that, there was no question.
But Helena Cain also excited her. No question there, either. Kara couldn't decide if it was her deeply-ingrained and uncontrollable recklessness that made her stomach flutter when Cain posed the question, or whether it was the strategic opening that the Admiral's obvious interest in her presented. `First she named me CAG, then she promoted me, and now she's practically standing inside me. God the woman must think I'm as frakked up as she is . . . or she has it bad, wants it bad.' Either way, Kara figured her patented smirk would do the trick.
"Most of the time . . . Sir," Kara responded, appearing somehow both nervous and arrogant at once.
"Good," Cain exhaled after a moment of scrutinizing Kara. She stepped yet closer. "So do I."
Kara swallowed involuntarily at the ever-increasing danger in which she was finding herself, but tried to pass it off as desire rather than fear by fixing her eyes on Cain's. True, it was fear, but it was also desire. She nibbled on her lower lip in a way that all her crewmates knew to be wary of. You could never tell what Kara might do. She saw Cain's eyes move quickly to her lips and knew she had taken the right tack.
"You have a destiny," Caprica Sharon had told her what seemed like a lifetime ago. Although she believed in and trusted the Lords of Kobol now, more than ever Kara didn't care much for the idea that she was special in any way over which she had no control. She was special, she would admit the best pilot around, the biggest jerk when it was called for, damn sexy when she wanted to be but destiny had nothing to do with any of that. Still, she wasn't going to let this frakking nut ruin everything that they had worked so hard to hold on to.
Kara stood outside the door of Admiral Cain's quarters holding a jar of moonshine from the Galactica still and made sure the jacket of her dress grays sat right. She had lost weight since the world had ended and hadn't had time to do anything about the cut of her uniform. Satisfied that she looked presentable enough, she rang the door chime.
"Whose at my hatch?" she heard the Admiral call out.
"Lieutenant . . . I mean, Captain Thrace, Sir," Kara responded, stepping back in surprise when the door opened before she had uttered the last word.
Cain wasn't wearing her jacket and Kara couldn't help but cast a quick glance across the lovely neck and shoulders now bare before her, nor control the thought that it would be satisfying to trail her lips on that neck. She wondered what Cain smelled like. The Admiral said nothing, but simply raised an eyebrow.
"I, uh, brought you this," Kara began, holding out the jar of liquor. "I got it on one of the civilian ships a while ago," she continued, lying to protect her crewmates, "and thought it might be a good way to thank you for your confidence in me today, Sir."
"You can thank me, Captain, by doing your job," Cain responded in a tone that did not match the harshness of the words.
Kara smirked in a way that only she could pull off. "I always do my job, Sir. No one better."
"We'll see about that," Cain replied, stepping aside to allow Kara entrance to her quarters.
Cain took the jar, opened it, and smelled the liquor briefly before setting the jar down on the desk. "I think a celebration of your promotion calls for something rather different than this," Cain said as she slowly circled Kara once. "Three things, in fact, come to mind. Before, during, and after, if you will."
Kara thought she had come into this skirmish with the upper hand but, gods, the Admiral was good. Still, she played it cool. "Oh? And what would those be?"
Cain walked over to the desk, opened a drawer, and pulled out a flask and something else that Kara couldn't see. Walking back over to Kara, she screwed the top off of the flask and held it beneath the Captain's nose.
"Ambrosia," Kara whispered as she inhaled, her eyes closed. Before she could open them, she smelled another scent that began to make her head spin. "Oh gods," she muttered and opened her eyes to see Cain holding the finest of fine cigars in her hand.
Cain smiled. "Before," she said, holding up the flask in her left hand, "and after," she continued, looking at the cigar. She proffered the flask and Kara took a generous swig before handing it back.
"And during?" Kara couldn't help but ask, even as she knew the answer.
Cain indulged herself in the Ambrosia and put the flask and cigar on the desk next to the jar of moonshine. "Well, it is manifestly unfair to ask me to supply everything, Captain Thrace." She stepped close to Kara, looked into her eyes briefly, then at her lips licking her own unconsciously and the brought her hand to the top button of Kara's dress grays. Admiral Cain never took her eyes from Kara's as she slowly undid the buttons and removed the jacket, dropping it unceremoniously on the floor. "This will do," Cain whispered, her gaze and her hand now redirected to Kara's left breast.
Later, but not much, one hand between Admiral Cain's legs and the other teasing a nipple as she drew out another orgasm, Kara suddenly realized that, while she might not be able to say that she believed that the gods had a destiny in store for her, she had come to hope that it was true. She hoped that this gamble to gain some measure of control over this storm that had blow into their lives and wreaked a havoc for which they had seemed less prepared than for the next Cylon attack, would be worth it. She hoped she hadn't frakked up the destiny thing.
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