DISCLAIMER: The Star Trek characters
are the property of Universal Studios. The story contents are the creation and property
of Djinn and are copyright (c) 2009 by Djinn. This story is Rated R.
It's Not A Dream
by Djinn
-------Present
(When Pegasus Found Galactica)------
Admiral Helena
Cain was the rising star. She was the perfect target. Energetic, smart, and
utterly above suspicion. She was also beautiful, or so she came to be to me. Before
she became my worst nightmare.
Nightmares are our
worst legacy from humans. I'm not sure why Cylons
were gifted with such a horrible present.
I've heard she has nightmares, calls out my name. I'm
glad that I'm
her nightmare. She chose me. She targeted
me. She betrayed me.
And I destroyed her for it. Nearly had her ripped limb
from limb but stopped short. Death...death would have been too good for her. So I left her alive. To suffer. To remember.
And to remind myself to never, ever trust anyone that
way again.
This man who cares
for me was betrayed by a Six and yet he loves her still. He loves her, and he appears to love me. I can
almost believe in God again, the way he loves me.
He brings me food.
He gives me water. He talks to me.
He's everything
Helena's not. And still...I would die for a word from her.
---------Eight
months earlier, two months before the Cylon Attack on
the Colonies--------------
I was chosen
because I'd lived a little. They studied her profile; she has a propensity for
proteges, and I was never meant to be that. They wanted me to be her
confidante. An equal.
A lover she'll
trust.
So I was allowed to
be Gina Inviere. To live as Gina Inviere,
if she were really human, would have lived. To accumulate some time in society.
All for her. Helena Cain. The Admiral.
All so I could
come here, to be with her on this ship. She's open. She's lonely. And she likes
me. I'm tall and sleek and competent and not in her chain of command. A
civilian who can talk to her as if she's just another woman—a beautiful,
desirable woman.
I have a soft spot for blondes. It's...a weakness, I
suppose. Not one I've indulged that often. Decorum's important.
But it's been so long. And Gina's smart and
independent and effervescent in the way she brings life to a room just by
entering it.
And she wants me. She likes me.
It's been a long time since I've let anyone like me. I'm
not sure yet that I can let it be more.
But this is nice. This is good. This just might be
enough.
She's a hard one
to figure out. I knew the job when I came. I'm a soldier, and that's how I view
this. Helena Cain is a mission I have to carry out. A dangerous mission. One
that will bring death if I'm discovered.
I just have to not
be discovered. But even if I am, what does it matter? God will protect me. And
I'll download into another body, and I'll go on.
And the humans
will be gone. Finally.
Helena Cain is
only a job.
Caprica is beautiful this time of year, and we sit on a bench
looking out over the lake. I see Gina glance over at me, her eyes hedged by
those long lashes.
"What?" I ask her.
"What's your strongest weapon?"
I smile, surprised, as always, by the direction this
woman takes our conversations in. "You won't like it."
"Yes, I will. Tell me."
"It's me. I'm my greatest weapon."
Gina frowns.
I pull out my knife. "To do what has to be done,
no matter how long, no matter the cost. It makes you like this. A razor."
"You're right. I don't like that."
She's soft. It's what wins me over every time. That
she's not like me and seems to want me anyway.
She can't see that
I'm like her blade. Willing to do whatever has to be done. I'm heading for her
bed. I'm heading for her bed, and God help me, I want to be in it.
I'm not sure
what's changed. Maybe it was the way she
sat with me—really with me—at the
lake. The way the light changed to gold and settled on her arms, lighting up
her skin, making me want to touch her.
I leaned in,
waiting to see what she'd do. She didn't pull away. She didn't move closer,
either.
"Is this all
right?" I asked.
"Yes. Oh,
yes."
I kissed her. My
first kiss. First human kiss, anyway. I had to be trained for this, of course. Kissing
another Six or an Eight is nothing like kissing Helena.
Nothing is like
kissing Helena.
"Gina?" Helena
rolls over, the covers slipping off her lean frame. She is hard and sharp, but
in her bed, with me, like this, she's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen.
"Right
here." It's true; I may be a Six, but I'm also Gina. I'll always be Gina,
no matter how many times I download.
"I'm glad
you're here."
I pull her close
and nestle in while she holds me and runs her fingers down my arms and kisses
me. She's so much sweeter than I expected.
"I'm glad I'm
here, too," I whisper. And for so many reasons, it's not a lie.
It's strange. To want to let this woman in the way I
do. To let her be a part of my life, my work life and my social. To see how
well she fits with my friends and fellow officers.
I love her. Gods help me, I love her. I didn't mean to
do that. To fall in love.
I think she loves me, too. She has a look, helpless,
almost angry, at times. I recognize it. It's the look you get when you're
slipping, when you're in over your head.
"I'll catch you," I whisper to her as she
sleeps. "I'll always take care of you."
I want to do that. Take care of her. She's capable and
smart and funny, but there's an innocence to her that I want to protect. She's
not like other people. She's not...spoiled yet. I don't want her hurt. I don't
ever want her hurt.
I hope to the Gods I don't ever hurt her.
She prays to
Artemis and Athena. It isn't surprising, but I wish I could tell her about God
and make her understand that there's more to life than these false gods the humans worship.
He's real. He's
good. He protects all. He'll see us to our future, our destiny.
He could be her
God, too. If only.
It's probably a
bad thing that I want to share God with her. Probably a sign of weakness on my
part. She's only a mission. Only an assignment.
I don't love her. I
can't possibly love her.
Just because she
takes my hand under the dining table when we eat with her friends. Just because her thigh presses against mine. Just
because later, she'll make me call out when she touches me, and then make me
cry by the way she holds me and talks to me and tells me I'm beautiful and
hers.
I'm hers. She's
mine.
God help me. I don't want her to know what I've done. Even if I won't stop
doing it, not even for her.
Not even for the
woman I love.
It's almost time. The
countdown has begun.
She's wistful so I show her an old vid to make her
laugh. She's quiet so I make her tea, then give her
some space, until she crawls into bed with me.
"You don't have to, Gina. If you're not in the
mood."
"Whatever happens to us in the future, this is real. This is now. This is
good."
"Nothing's going to happen." I touch her face
and wipe away tears I don't understand. "I love you. Do you love me?"
She nods and her eyes glisten. "I. Do." It's
more than a statement. It's an affirmation. It's a declaration. I laugh and
pull her down to me.
"Then it will all be all right." And I kiss
her until she stops crying.
----------Present------------
And that's how it
was. That's how I made Admiral Cain love me.
I never loved her.
No one can hate
the way she's hated me, not without having loved first. Don't let her tell you different.
She's a thing. I never loved her. If I loved her, I'd
let her die.
I lie on this
cold, metal floor, while a man, a human—who helps because he wants something
from me, from this body he says reminds him of an old love—pushes food at me
and tells me it's not a trick. And all I can hear is her, telling her brute
squad to test me, to push me, to hurt me.
To make me pay.
I will eat. I'll
eat because I'm hungry. Because she wants me hungry. Because she wants me weak,
and I don't want to give her what she wants.
She is her
again. Gina. My Gina. How could he bring her back so fast? I buried her under
the bruises and blood and dirt and stench. My Gina with her soft golden hair
and perfect skin was gone. And I liked it that way.
I told Adama I wasn't
heartless; I could tell he didn't believe me. But if he could see inside me
now. If he could just see what I feel when I look at her. When I remember that
she couldn't pull the trigger, not when she had the chance.
It, not her. It. Cylons are
things, not people. Not...lovers.
I can never get over how human they look.
Why is she here? Why
has he let her in here? I thought he had power over them, power to keep me from
harm. Why is Helena here?
I feel myself
tremble. I hate that I tremble in front of her. If God loved me, he'd let me
die. If God were powerful, he'd strike her where she stands.
I tell Doctor Baltar that
the Cylon's comfort is of no interest to me. I lie. I
want her in discomfort. I want her to hurt, the way she made me hurt.
I want her to pay for what I turned into.
I ask him if he's become too close to his subject, if
he's lost perspective. He looks suitably shocked: an academic being asked if
he's fallen in love with his lab rat.
Never guessing I'd fallen in love with her...with it.
With the frakkin' enemy, a
toaster, a motherfrakkin' machine.
I flinch as she
moves closer.
"Well, I see
you got it to eat." Her voice is harsh, the voice of command. Not the
soft, velvet voice I heard in the bed we shared.
"That's
progress, I suppose. Can you get it to roll over? Beg?" She sniffs and I
can hear her derision in the sharp sound. "See what it can make of
these." She hands the man something, but I can't pull my eyes from her
face, and then I can't bear to look anymore, and I try to retreat, the way I
did before, deep inside myself.
She could read me
in bed. She can read me here. "You know this thing used to sit in our mess. And eat our food, and listen to our
stories. Didn't you? You just sat there, listening to us, pretending to be our
friend." She kicks me in the stomach, so hard, so fast. So full of hate. "Didn't
you?"
If I'd pretended
to be only her friend, I believe I'd be dead by now. But I was her lover, and
she will punish me for that forever.
The man speaks:
"Admiral, please. Any physical contact with the subject will only help to
set my efforts back at this point." His tone is mild, as mild as it's been
with me, but she stops.
Then she spits on
me. "Find out about that ship."
And then she's
gone, and I feel her spittle on my face and the echo of her foot in my gut. And
the man is turned, and he is there and an easy target, and somehow, finally, my
legs will move and I'm up, up and over and on top of him. On his chest, hands
locked around his neck.
His neck, not
hers.
His—the neck of
the man who's been kind to me. For one of my sisters' sake.
I let him go and
scuttle back until I hit the far wall. He grabs his neck, staring at me with
the most disappointed look.
I imagine God must
look a little like that when we do wrong.
"I want to
die," I say. "Will you help me do that? Will you kill me,
please?" And then I cry. Finally, finally, safe with him.
I cry.
She's told him what the unidentified ship was for. A resurrection
ship. Life for the Cylons. I'm
holding his report, reading it slowly, unable to take in the magnitude of the
gift she's given us.
Of the frakkin' oblivion she
seeks for herself. Death. Death with no download. I didn't even know they could
download. She never told me anything, never told me no matter how much I
tortured. This milquetoast of a scientist is with her for a few days and she
spills her guts?
Does she love him?
It. Does it love him?
My hands are shaking, and I force myself to settle, to
seek the calm. I will not flinch. This is what we need. Gina—it has given us
what we need.
Damn her for being more Gina each time I see her. Damn
her for being seared into my memories, into my dreams.
Damn her for ever being born. Or downloaded. Or
whatever the frak the toasters call their first
breath.
Damn her for everything.
My sin is great. Tens
of thousands of my sisters and brothers will die so that I can truly end.
I wonder if God
will forgive me. I speak to Gaius as if I believe still in God, because I think
he needs to believe I do.
But I don't believe. It's how I can do this. The horrible thing. Without
flinching.
I learned that
from Helena.
I can feel them
dying. I can feel, impossibly, a battle in space. The resurrection ship being
obliterated.
My chance for
immortality gone.
I am just me. Just
Gina Inviere.
Gaius asks,
"Do you think God will forgive us?"
"God forgives
all." If he exists, I mean. And if he does, then he won't forgive me.
But he abandoned
me here. Why should I care if he forgives me?
Why should I care
if she forgives me?
Her people are well and truly frakked.
The resurrection ship is gone. We watched the spare bodies of my former toaster
lover and her kin float into space the way the bodies of all the men and women
they killed on my ship floated out of the airlocks when we sent them to their
final resting place.
Doctor Baltar tried to
explain it to me. There are only so many models. There are many copies of each
model. The one I knew is unique. She's the only one who...
She's mine. Mine. And that hurts. That they did this,
they picked me to hurt this way. What is it about me that said, "Select
me; I'm easy to wound"? Easy to dupe, is more like it. Easy to frak with.
Well, not anymore.
Not by her. And not by Adama.
Although I didn't have Fisk kill him. Today wasn't a
good day for a Colonial commander to die. Not when all these copies of the
whore I let touch me filled space.
I know I'll have to kill him eventually. Just as he
knows he'll have to send his Angel of Death to me. Poor Starbuck. Poor little
Kara. A pawn between two parents. I can tell I'm the mother she always wanted. She
could have been a razor, like Kendra, if Adama hadn't
dulled her before I found her.
Now, now at least she's a blunt instrument. Capable of
dealing out a great deal of grievous harm. I love her more than a little, my
precious CAG.
But not in that way.
Never again in that way.
You just never know who you're sleeping with. Who
you're trusting. Who you love.
Love. Gods help me, I did love her. It. Gina. That frakkin Cylon.
I think Doctor Baltar's time
with her is over. I think I'll make sure she suffers and never, ever dies. I
want oblivion to never be hers, or as close to never as I can make it.
The ship is gone. "They've
done it. I'm ready to die. Send my soul to God. Please." Or to oblivion,
anyway. God probably isn't waiting.
I hope God isn't
waiting.
Gaius does his
part, lures in a guard, his bumbling hiding cunning. I snap the guard's neck,
take his weapon, put it in Gaius's hand, and bring it to my neck. This is how
it will end.
But Gaius is
sweating. Crying. "No, no, no. I can't do this."
"Suicide is a
sin, but I need to die." Funny. I feel it. That spark of belief. That
knowledge that God will judge me for killing myself.
Do I think he won't judge me for killing so many of my kind?
I'm a fool. Gaius
should kill me for that.
"What you
need is justice." He slips the gun into my hand like it's the present of a
lover. "I know a place where you can stay, where you will be safe, where I
can look after you."
"Why? Why
would you do that?" But I know. I've seen the look he's giving me. Only...he
knows what I am. And he still wants me. Wants me precisely because of what I
am.
"Because I
love you." Poor, deluded Gaius. His Six deserves better.
If she's at all
like me, she won't get it.
I leave him then,
and I run for the quarters of the woman who taught me what love was. And what
fear is.
The security is
laughable for someone who understands their systems inside and out. I am into
her room in seconds. And she's there
sooner than I expect. Tired. She looks so tired. She groans as she takes off
her holster and lays it on the glass table. She stretches, and I can imagine
rubbing her back, easing the kinks out, easing her tensions other ways.
No. No. No.
I hate her. I hate
her. I hate her.
I love her. Still.
I love her still.
She turns.
Gina. She is standing in front of me and she's tall—I'd
forgotten how tall she is. She's back, my blonde goddess.
And she brings me death. Not Starbuck, then. Not Adama. Not anyone but this woman who hurt me.
Who I hurt back.
Who I love.
Damn her. I loved her.
Helena looks
shocked. She doesn't look scared, though. Why doesn't she look scared? I have
the gun. I have the upper hand. I have the right to do this. I have the right.
"Tell me,
Admiral," I say, putting everything I feel into my words. I want her to
know how much I hate her. I want her to know I'll never, ever forget what she's
done to me. "Can you roll over? Beg?"
My words thrown back at me. And I can see by the look
on her face that she's not going to flinch. I thought I'd made Kendra into my
sharpest razor, but I was wrong. This is my masterpiece. Gina is my greatest
work.
She will be my death. She wants me to break. It could
be my last gift to her. To tell her the truth.
"I love you," I might say. "I've missed
you," would not be a lie. "I'm sorry."
Yes, that is what she wants to hear. "Gina, I'm
so very sorry."
I tell her instead, "Frak
you."
And try my hardest not to cry.
It's not what I
want. This last thing she says to me. It's not what I needed to hear.
Frak me?
"You're not
my type," I tell her.
She lets out a
sharp gasp, her eyes moistening more, and I realize she's holding back tears.
That she does
care. That there is pain.
Pain I wish I
could make linger longer than it will.
Pain I could make linger.
I could draw this
out.
I could torture
her and abuse her and make her cry.
But...I love her.
I fire.
She crumples,
without a sound, and the room is empty except for me and the retort of the
gunfire echoing in my ears.
She isn't
beautiful anymore. I fired at point blank range. I destroyed her face, her
eyes, her warm, soft lips.
So why can I still
see her, just like she was, with the golden light playing on her skin? Why do I think I will always see her every
time I close my eyes?
FIN