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[personal profile] rirenec
The scar's deep and has been there a long time. Helena cups her palm over it, and then runs her hand further down Kara's downy leg where her knee makes the shape of a '4' over Helena's own. Kara's such a limpet in bed, or like a slothful cat - once she's exhausted herself that is. And she's hot all over, except for her feet, which are forever like ice. But nose to toes, she's pressed against Helena as she falls asleep. It never lasts long, for Kara's a restless sleeper. She wakes up, twitches, grabs drinks of water, mumbles… it goes on and on. It reminds Helena of her old city apartment, where it was never quiet. A white noise which she both loved and hated. Loved, when she was alone, hated when she was stressed; sitting under the lamp light, trying to make the grade in a world where a Tauron accent was not the one to have… where connections were the key… Helena scrunches her eyes shut, then opens them again to blond hair and the strong slope of shoulder.

When Kara's there, Helena doesn't feel so alone. It's impossible to, really; for the pilot's always seeking and wanting something. Never still. Helena needs that. Were it not for Kara, Helena sometimes thinks inside she'd solidify. Bake like clay into some hideous form with no cracks. She'd be a Razor. It's what she'd been, but no longer. Can't be, if she wants to survive now.

"Your brain is making my head hurt," Kara whispers, interrupting Helena's flow. Helena brings her hand back up to Kara's breast, then breathes a kiss into Kara's fingers, which trail in a curl around Helena's throat.

Kara purrs and Helena laughs through her nostrils, then pushes her head further into the comfort of her pillow. It smells like smoke. It goes quiet for long moments. There's no ticking clock. No wind or birdsong. Yet the nighttime, Helena knows, is the time to be truthful. "Kara... Are we all made into monsters by circumstance? By fate? Do these things make us what we are?"

Helena feels the motions of Kara's thoughts and senses when awareness is more than a reaction.

"With the farms... it's no different... But it doesn't make it right." Kara starts, stops, and then restarts. "But neither does it make me hate them any more, or feel for that Cylon any less than I did." She's tired. She's not completely thinking straight. It makes her too honest.

Helena wonders if indeed, she's really after honesty. "Thrace!?"

And, of course, Kara rouses at that. "It's Kara. KA-RA. I'm no insubordinate here. Any neither am I some sort of guide. I'm just a woman, HE-LE-NA." Softer, "'lena. I'm just a woman."

A woman. Here. Warm. Human. Here. Because...

"And one who likes my company?" Helena doesn't hedge. It doesn't sound like a hedge, either.

Kara yawns. "I don't measure things. You know that. I'm enough."

"People..." Helena begins.

"Since when are you bothered?" Kara interrupts.

"Since I am the Admiral of two Battlestars. TWO. One headed by the Saintly, if ineffectual, Adama clan."

Helena can feel Kara's grin. Cain drops to pinch the skin of that scarred knee. Kara grins harder. "I'm almost part of that clan, you know," she says.

"Maybe that's why I'm frakkin' you."

Kara twists around, then pushes Helena beneath her.

"Yeah." Kara licks a peachy nipple and it instantly tightens. "So the reason is..." Her low words make the whole of Helena tighten, like an elastic band, wound and wound, just waiting for its release. One violent, like the slice or a knife, or a gentle unwinding... the thrust of a trebuchet, not fired, but unloaded and soothed.

"So, you're attractive, Thrace."

Kara chuckles. It's mocking. It makes Helena weak.

"You're with me because you want me. You're with me, because I'm that barrier against breaking." She doesn't say: I'm already broken, so it's impossible for this to have changed me. What she does is: "I'm a survivor."

Their fingers entwine. "I've seen you not care about your death."

"Frak off. You've seen me fly into danger. You've seen me take the risky path." Quieter and softer.  "Death isn't glory. It isn't reward or prettiness, and I frakkin' hate that mantle. Death is ugly and bloody and goes on and on..." She stops. "I don't want to die. But neither am I afraid of dying for others or dying quick."

Helena strokes the back of Kara's knees now, where the younger woman has come to lay ontop, leaning up on her elbows, her breath hot in Helena's face.

"There. That's why I like you."

"Do I take from that, you think I won't be pissed if you shot me across CiC?"

"You'll always be pissed."

Kara sweetens to smile at her. It lights her entire face. "Well frak you very much."

Helena feels the drug. "Maybe in the morning."

Kara kisses her. "Yessir!"
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