Home, by da_angel729
Title: Home
Author: da_angel729
Summary: The horizon beckons, promising freedom. And she remembers, feels that freedom engulf her senses, filling her completely, unlike anything she's ever known.
Characters: Kara Thrace
Rating: PG
Warnings: None
Title, Author, and URL of Original Story: Untitled Drabble by frolicndetour
Beta Thanks: Thanks to my roommate for the beta. You're awesome, J.
Author's Notes: BSG belongs to Syfy, Universal, RDM, etc. frolicndetour, you had such fabulous stories to choose from and I can't believe this untitled drabble is the one that 'spoke' to me the most. I hope you enjoy it! As always, feedback and con crit appreciated.
Home
She remembers seeing the ocean for the first time, feeling it against her skin. The largeness-the sheer vastness-dwarfed the small beach of dirty brown sand and the water extended farther than she could see. The world seemed larger, somehow, and she remembers staring at the horizon, wondering how to get there.
And though she'd been so very small, she vowed she'd make it to the horizon.
Kara remembers the sound of waves crashing against the beach, flowing through her. She runs toward them, hears her father behind her, stopping her just as she reaches the water. She struggles, but he just grips tighter. Determined to not let her go, worry transferring through his grip.
He doesn't understand.
She knows, somehow, just knows, that there's nothing to worry about.
The horizon beckons, promising freedom. And she remembers, feels that freedom engulf her senses, filling her completely, unlike anything she's ever known. Her father's worried she'd disappear in the water. She remembers kicking, trying to get away. She knows he's holding her so she doesn't sink, but she knows, now, that she wasn't afraid.
The clear blue sky's open above her, the waves crash around her, and she doesn't want to leave.
----------
"The first time I sat in that cockpit I felt like I belonged there."
She says it, but it's not true. Not then.
A Viper's cockpit is small, confining. Instructors purposely don't tell the Cadets; they want them to be surprised. The first time in a simulator is claustrophobic, designed to weed out those unsuited to Vipers quickly. She feels the darkness of the simulator close in around her, and knows the instructors are waiting for her to panic.
She doesn't. Kara's learned over the years it's easier, safer, to remain calm. To fake it if she has to. Until it becomes her, who she is.
Kara sits in the cockpit and breathes in, out. Exhales, and remembers the smell of salt water and the sounds of the ocean, the horizon beckoning her, a siren's call she can't help but answer. She thinks the stars will feel the same way.
Hopes.
Because she thought she'd lost everything once, sitting on a Pyramid court a lifetime ago, and knows she doesn't have much left. Knows, with everything in her soul, that this, flying, is her last chance.
In the Viper, she feels small, but not confined. And when the simulation begins, a space scene, she can almost pretend she's flying through stars.
----------
Kara remembers every detail of her first orbital flight. The Vipers angled straight up, out of Picon's blue skies, and into space. How her barrel roll is textbook perfect and her end-over-end flip earns praise from the instructor flying with them. How her wingman panicked when they entered space, and how she could barely contain her excitement.
The simulator hadn't prepared her for this, she knows. For the wide-open view in front of her, limited only by the line of sight of her helmet. The radar swirls, and she grins widely. She'd never expected this.
She's hoped for it, but she's learned hope gets you nothing.
This time, she's sitting in the cockpit of her Viper, the open canopy the only thing separating her from the stars. And Kara wants. And the feeling she remembers from the long-ago day at the beach are back, engulfing her senses as the Viper zooms through space, darting and twisting at the slightest touch of her hand on the stick, her feet on the pedals.
And she's home.
Finally.
Author: da_angel729
Summary: The horizon beckons, promising freedom. And she remembers, feels that freedom engulf her senses, filling her completely, unlike anything she's ever known.
Characters: Kara Thrace
Rating: PG
Warnings: None
Title, Author, and URL of Original Story: Untitled Drabble by frolicndetour
Beta Thanks: Thanks to my roommate for the beta. You're awesome, J.
Author's Notes: BSG belongs to Syfy, Universal, RDM, etc. frolicndetour, you had such fabulous stories to choose from and I can't believe this untitled drabble is the one that 'spoke' to me the most. I hope you enjoy it! As always, feedback and con crit appreciated.
Home
She remembers seeing the ocean for the first time, feeling it against her skin. The largeness-the sheer vastness-dwarfed the small beach of dirty brown sand and the water extended farther than she could see. The world seemed larger, somehow, and she remembers staring at the horizon, wondering how to get there.
And though she'd been so very small, she vowed she'd make it to the horizon.
Kara remembers the sound of waves crashing against the beach, flowing through her. She runs toward them, hears her father behind her, stopping her just as she reaches the water. She struggles, but he just grips tighter. Determined to not let her go, worry transferring through his grip.
He doesn't understand.
She knows, somehow, just knows, that there's nothing to worry about.
The horizon beckons, promising freedom. And she remembers, feels that freedom engulf her senses, filling her completely, unlike anything she's ever known. Her father's worried she'd disappear in the water. She remembers kicking, trying to get away. She knows he's holding her so she doesn't sink, but she knows, now, that she wasn't afraid.
The clear blue sky's open above her, the waves crash around her, and she doesn't want to leave.
----------
"The first time I sat in that cockpit I felt like I belonged there."
She says it, but it's not true. Not then.
A Viper's cockpit is small, confining. Instructors purposely don't tell the Cadets; they want them to be surprised. The first time in a simulator is claustrophobic, designed to weed out those unsuited to Vipers quickly. She feels the darkness of the simulator close in around her, and knows the instructors are waiting for her to panic.
She doesn't. Kara's learned over the years it's easier, safer, to remain calm. To fake it if she has to. Until it becomes her, who she is.
Kara sits in the cockpit and breathes in, out. Exhales, and remembers the smell of salt water and the sounds of the ocean, the horizon beckoning her, a siren's call she can't help but answer. She thinks the stars will feel the same way.
Hopes.
Because she thought she'd lost everything once, sitting on a Pyramid court a lifetime ago, and knows she doesn't have much left. Knows, with everything in her soul, that this, flying, is her last chance.
In the Viper, she feels small, but not confined. And when the simulation begins, a space scene, she can almost pretend she's flying through stars.
----------
Kara remembers every detail of her first orbital flight. The Vipers angled straight up, out of Picon's blue skies, and into space. How her barrel roll is textbook perfect and her end-over-end flip earns praise from the instructor flying with them. How her wingman panicked when they entered space, and how she could barely contain her excitement.
The simulator hadn't prepared her for this, she knows. For the wide-open view in front of her, limited only by the line of sight of her helmet. The radar swirls, and she grins widely. She'd never expected this.
She's hoped for it, but she's learned hope gets you nothing.
This time, she's sitting in the cockpit of her Viper, the open canopy the only thing separating her from the stars. And Kara wants. And the feeling she remembers from the long-ago day at the beach are back, engulfing her senses as the Viper zooms through space, darting and twisting at the slightest touch of her hand on the stick, her feet on the pedals.
And she's home.
Finally.