Title: Disappear

Fandom: Battlestar Galactica 2003

Category: Starbuck, Apollo, Boomer (no pairings - but shades of Kara/ Sharon and Kara/ Lee if you like)

Rating: PG-13

Spoilers: Vaguely season two but set before "Lay Down Your Burdens"

Summary: "History tells you how many times you've frakked up before, and how many times you will again."

With Thanks: to the beta-tastic efforts of Projectjulie and Rustler who deserve the spoils, the glory and the acclaim. I’m just here for the fruit baskets.

*

Kara likes the bars, the way the locals spend their evenings in dull-lit corners, sharing a meal or a drink, or sitting alone, as she is, reading, thinking, remembering. These warm places welcome the stranger with large glasses of ale, simple meals and low music, and televisions sets perpetually tuned to sports. She feels at home here, one of the crowd.

Kara has a seat by the window, overlooking the river. There's a dark, empty promenade outside. It's mid-winter and not even the tourists are brave enough to stroll the embankment in this weather. Kara likes this city. The people keep to themselves, the trains take her anywhere she wants to be, and the pub serves stuffed pigskin atop mashed vegetable, which the locals wash down with an ale that tastes bitter and sweet at the same time. She could lose herself here, never be heard from again.

She's reading a newspaper, contemplating the similarities and the differences between this world and hers. There’s a story about an earthquake in a poverty stricken land, miles away from here. Two thousand people dead and it’s buried on page six, like it’s not news at all. Caprica had its homeless and its poor, but there are parts of this world where the population is dying in waves.

Roslin is appalled. The Admiral is concerned. Lee, like many of the fleet, avoids being planetside out of fear the chaos is contagious. Kara thinks it's a mess but then there's snow in the mountains to the North and big open lakes that stretch to the horizon. She’s been to places where the people are packed in so tight she couldn’t move without crashing into another person. Days later she’d find herself camping in a desert, not a soul around for miles. In one day she stood in the middle of a large city, looking up at impossibly tall buildings, and by the evening she was in the countryside where people lived in huts.

No uniformity. No central government. No Cylons.

"It's not what you expected, is it?"

Kara looks up from her newspaper and there's Sharon, sitting on the other side of the table, dressed like a local in the blue canvas pants and running shoes they all wear.

"No one expected this," Kara says. "Unless the Cylons had inside information."

"I didn't expect it, either," Sharon says. "I don't know what I expected. Something like Caprica, maybe?"

Kara swigs a mouthful of beer. "Why are you here?"

"I'm following you."

Kara laughs. "That's frakking obvious," she says. " But why now? Haven’t seen you since that place with the little toys."

"Tokyo," Sharon says.

"Yeah, Toke-yo," Kara says. "Frakking crazy city. All those people like rats in a maze. I’m not wild about raw fish, either."

"Some people would call that a rich cultural life," Sharon says. "But not you, Kara Thrace - your idea of entertainment is a fist fight in the officers' bar."

Kara looks at the newspaper. A photograph of a woman with large breasts is wedged between an article about a racing car driver and a list of fuel prices. "What the frak would you know about culture? You're a frakking Cylon."

Sharon presses her lips together like she’s holding back tears. Sharon was always kind of sensitive. Kara liked that about her. Sharon didn't fake machismo like the other pilots, like Kara.

Frakking Cylons. Sharon Valerii is a work of art. They should be proud.

"Did you wonder what it was like," Sharon says. "Finding out your whole life is a lie?"

Kara looks at her beer. Half empty or half full? "I didn't believe you," she says. “Her,” she corrects herself. “How could she not know?”

Sharon shrugs. "Maybe she knew?" she says. "In hindsight, she might have said she knew. Everything is clearer in retrospect."

"That's not very comforting."

"You're not a Cylon, Starbuck."

"I know."

"I mean, you think about it - everyone does - but you're not."

Kara takes a long look at Sharon. Sharon adjusts her scarf, raises her eyebrows.

"That's not very comforting, either," Kara says. She finishes her beer. "I'm getting another," she says.

When she returns, Sharon is leaning back in her chair, like she's just getting comfortable. "I always wondered," she says. "Why didn't you frak me?"

Kara takes a swig from her beer, licks the foam from her upper lip. "What the frak are you talking about?"

"Come on, Starbuck.” Sharon says. "You were a busy girl on Galactica. And I know you like me, so what was it? The Chief?"

Kara considers her beer. Her head feels heavy and she’s probably drunk. Drunk is normal these days. "Maybe I didn’t want to frak you," she says. "Have you thought about that?"

Sharon thinks about it. She grins. "Nah," she says. "You wanted me."

Kara laughs. "Yeah, right. The Chief, Helo – I think even the Commander had a little crush on you. You're the Cylon god's gift to mankind."

"Starbuck," Sharon says, suddenly serious. "Why am I here?"

Kara shrugs. "Frak knows," she says. "I don't even know why I'm here."

*

Kara has a room in a hostel not far from the river. She walks home through dark, stone streets, the paving laid hundreds of years ago. The city has a penchant for unearthing its ruins. In this area the brickwork of an old theatre juts out of the parking lot of a newly built set of townhouses. The theatre is significant, so there's a sign for tourists and a plaque. Caprica City kept its artefacts in museums, protected against the elements. She once visited ruins on Tauron on a tour of duty during the miners' riots. The riots were a small affair so they spent their time sightseeing and soaking up local fare. Zak liked old things; he liked marking time, the significance of having come forward. Kara was dismissive. History tells you how many times you've frakked up before, and how many times you will again.

Only drunks and thugs are out on the streets tonight. Even the homeless have found corners to hide in, shielded from the cold. Kara pulls her collar up and tucks her chin into her scarf. She's wearing her flight jacket because it's warmer than anything she can afford in this town. She wears her combat pants too, because it's a fashion for civilians to look like soldiers on this world. She dresses like a pilot and fits right in.

She cuts down a side street, passes one of those beverage places that bears her name. They're everywhere she goes. Sometimes it's a sign, a reason to be here. Sometimes it’s just plain freaky.

It's quiet enough for her to notice footsteps. Sharon's there, of course, but it's not her. It's someone else, someone heavier. Kara keeps walking, changes direction suddenly. She could be being followed or it could be her military instinct making her paranoid. This world has mostly ignored her but it’s an unpredictable place. And not everyone here is of this world.

The footsteps change direction too. Kara steps into an alley and backs against the wall.

Sharon backs against the wall too. "What's going on?" she says.

Kara holds up a finger to her lips. "Shhh," she says.

The footsteps get close. They round the corner and Kara springs forward, puts her hand at the throat of her pursuer and pins him against the wall.

"Frak!" he says.

“Lee!” Frakking Lee. He was always lousy at covert operations. "What the frak are you doing?"

He's breathing heavy. They both are.

"You never frakked him either," Sharon says.

"Shut up.”

"Everyone thought you did, but you didn't," Sharon says.

Kara glares at her. Lee frowns, looks confused. "Kara...?"

She lets him go. "You were following me."

He looks at the ground. "I didn't want you to run."

"Run?" Kara frowns. "From you?"

"You're AWOL, Kara," he says. "Nothing you do surprises me anymore."

Kara takes a cigarello from her pocket and lights up. She keeps miniatures on her at all times. Cigarettes are for addicts. "Okay," she says. "So how did you find me?"

"He knows you," Sharon says. Kara ignores her.

"It wasn't easy," he says. "I've been searching for months."

"What gave it away?"

Lee grins, points at the sign above them. "It's got your name on it."

Kara looks up at the Starbuck's mermaid. "Frak you, Lee, those things are everywhere."

"I'd like to say I had divine inspiration," Lee says. "But it was a lot of fast talking and a lot more leg-work. And I remembered how much you liked the river district on Picon. Zak hated it, but you said you could live there."

Kara remembers Zak never liked decay. He found it tragic. She takes a puff of her cigar. "Let's get out of here," she says. 

They go back to her room, sit on the floor passing a bottle of rye whisky between them. It's 80-proof and it warms her from the inside. The room has a barely functional heater that gradually raises the temperature, but it's the whisky that's having the real effect.

"The old man send you?" Kara asks.

Lee nods. "And Roslin. We need you back, Kara. We need our best pilots. This world's not ready for a Cylon attack. We're its only defence."

"This world isn't ready for us," Kara says. "Isn't that why we’re hiding in the next system?”

"You were in the room when we voted to cover up," Lee says. "You didn't object."

"I'm not objecting now," she says. "I frakking found the place - I knew what kind of damage we could do."

"It's arrogant, don’t you think?" Lee rubs his forehead with the heel of his palm. He looks older - far older than he should be. He's changing into his father. "Taking this world for yourself and denying it to everyone else."

Kara takes a long swig from the bottle. "Finder's rights," she said. "You know - the fleet has a rule that if a pilot discovers a planet or a moon during a mission she can name it after herself."

Lee laughs, only it sounds like a hiccough. He's drunk - always was a cheap date. "You didn't find Earth, Kara, the thirteenth colony was here long before you."

Kara passes Lee the bottle, she leans her head back against the wall, chin jutting out. "Someone has to be here," she says. "Someone has to..." She looks at the ceiling. There's a water stain on the roof. Reassuring to think that cheap housing is the same across galaxies. "They could be here, you know."

He doesn't ask who she's talking about. "Maybe," Lee says. "It's been a year - how far could they have gone?"

"I dream about them sometimes," Kara says. On the bed opposite, Sharon reclines, leaning on her hand. She looks at Kara curiously.

"It wasn't your fault," Lee says. He's said it before. It doesn't help.

"I believed her." Kara closes her eyes and sees Sharon's face contorted in pain, pleading, Starbuck. Help me...

"No, you didn't," Sharon says.

"It's okay," Lee says. "If it were you - if it were Dee - I would have done the same thing. You look at them and they look so real."

"You knew what you were doing," Sharon says.

"They're real, Lee," Kara says. "They feel pain, they breathe, they bleed."

"We cry," Sharon says.

"I know," Lee says, nodding. "They were designed to be just like us. You look at them and it's easy to forget what they're capable of."

Lee thinks she's a soft touch. She never used to let him get away with thinking less of her. Everything is different now. She takes the bottle back, takes another swig. "How's Roslin?"

Lee shrugs. "She's fine. Back to campaigning."

"I worry about her."

"You shouldn't," Lee says. He takes the bottle from Kara and drinks. "She'll survive us all."

"She's not as tough as she makes out," Kara says. She looks up at the window. Outside, neon shines an unearthly green and red glow across the building adjacent. "She never expected this."

"Maybe not," Lee says. "But you'd never guess. She rallies fast."

"And Dee?"

He shrugs, takes another swig from bottle. "Same as ever. Still the moral conscience of the fleet."

"You never liked her," Sharon says.

It's true. Kara hates anyone with a holier than thou attitude, makes her feel like she's being judged. "Good old Dualla," Kara says. "Still raising hell."

Lee hands the bottle to Kara. "We're getting married," he says.

Kara chokes. Whisky comes out of her nose, burning her sinuses. "No frakking way," she says when she's recovered.

"I was hoping to tell you when things were back to normal." He holds up his hands. "Whatever normal is."

"Is she pregnant?"

"No," Lee says. "We're not ready for kids yet."

"Huh." Kara drinks, takes it slow this time.

"Jealous?" Sharon says.

"Shut up," Kara says.

"What?" Lee says.

Kara grins sheepishly. "Talking to myself."

"I know what you're thinking," Lee says. "You think I'm compromising."

"He is," Sharon says.

"I don't think that," Kara says.

"Liar," Sharon says.

"Frak you," Kara says.

"Kara?" Lee looks at her like she's going insane. Maybe she is?

Kara looks at the floor. Her mother used to say that if you’re going to frak up, you should frak up better than anyone else. Maybe that’s why Kara’s the best frak-up she knows? "She's in my head, Lee," Kara says. It's out before she can stop herself.

"What?" Lee looks around, like he's expecting to see someone. Sharon lifts her head, suddenly interested. "Who's in your head?"

"Sharon," Kara says. She looks at Sharon, looks right into her brown eyes. "She talks to me, I talk to her. It's like she's here. It's like..." Kara holds out a hand toward Sharon. "Like I can reach out and touch her."

"Kara, what the frak is going on?" Lee edges away from her.

Kara grabs his wrist. "Don't you get it, Lee? I can't go back. Not like this. They'll treat me like I'm crazy. They'll shut me away like I'm a frakking Cylon infiltrator."

Lee looks scared, like he doesn't know whether to talk to her or get the hell out of there before Kara does something maniacal on him. He looks down at where she's gripping his arm, covers her hand with his. "Kara, you're just - you've been here too long," he says. "You're exhausted."

"I see her, Lee. Plain as day."

He shakes his head. "No," he says. "You're drunk. You're..."

Kara puts her hand to his chin, holds him in place. "Lee - I can't go back." Lee meets her eyes, looks like he might cry. For a moment she's actually sorry.

The moment is gone. She balls her free hand into a fist, raises it before Lee can react and punches him in the side of the face, sending him flying backwards.

She doesn't wait to see if he’s conscious. She grabs her flight jacket, her bag, the bottle, and runs. She runs into the street, doesn't turn around to see if he's following. She keeps running, away from the river, away from bar and the coffee house bearing her name, away from Lee. She runs until she doesn't recognise the buildings.

And then she walks.

Her heart pounds in her ears. She counts her breath: in one-two-three-four, out one-two-free-four, until her breathing is slowed, regular. She doesn’t know how far she’s come.

Her bag is light, just a t-shirt, a fresh set of underwear and a toothbrush. She wishes she had time to frisk Lee for money, but she can't be sure she knocked him out. Lee's taken a lot harder punches.

"You've slowed him down," Sharon says. "You haven't stopped him." She walks alongside Kara, like she's been keeping up all this time.

"He knows when to leave well enough alone,” Kara says.

“Not this time,” Sharon says.

“For frak’s sake.” Kara throws up her hands. “What the frak do you know? You’re not even real.”

”You’re not crazy.”

”Sure I am.”

”You’re the sanest crazy person you know. It scares you.”

Kara takes shelter in the doorway of a restaurant, puts her hands on her knees and lowers herself to the ground, back against the wall. “As long as I’ve got you in my head, I’m certifiable,” she says. “I’m not wild about the idea but there it is.”

Sharon leans against the wall opposite. “You don’t believe that.”

“Cylons,” Kara says, shaking her head. “You know what your problem is? You think humans are simple. You think we know right from wrong, bad from good. You think we can draw a line between the sane and insane and everyone will fall neatly on either side. It doesn’t frakking work like that.”

“How does it work?” Sharon says, lowering herself to the ground so she’s eye-level with Kara.

Kara takes a cigarello from her pocket and lights it. It’s her last one and she’s running out of money fast. She’ll need to find work soon if she stays. “Maybe you’re not real,” Kara says. “Maybe I invented you because I frakked up and let Helo take you away. Maybe I feel guilty about the way we treated you – the way I treated you.” She puffs on the cigar, thinks for a moment. “Maybe you did something to me when you knocked me out, planted something in my head. Maybe…” She looks across the street. It’s dark. Even the neon goes out after midnight in this town. “Maybe I’m a Cylon.”

“Maybe you are,” Sharon says. She looks at Kara, expressionless. “Or maybe you just like it here,” she says. “Maybe here you can forget about them: Anders, Zak, Lee, Cain, me… Maybe here you can just – disappear.”

“No.” Kara shakes her head. “I would never abandon them.”

“Then prove it,” Sharon says. “Go home, Kara. This world was never meant for you.”

Kara looks at the sky. No stars tonight. “What about you and Helo?” She says. “The other you?”

Sharon smiles and her eyes glisten, shining like glass. For a moment she’s ethereal, something Kara could never imagine. “It was meant for them,” she says.

Kara doesn’t think about it, doesn’t want to think about what it means. She finishes her cigar, swings her bag over her shoulder and stands, brushing the sand and grit from her backside. She walks back toward the river, towards the street where she found Lee, and hopes that somewhere out there he’s already forgiven her.

End.

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