Respite and Friends (the center cannot hold remix), by lizardbeth_j
Title: Respite and Friends (the center cannot hold remix)
author: lizardbeth_j
Summary: On the Demetrius people fall apart. Barolay tries to put one back together.
Characters: Sam Anders and Jean Barolay
Pairings: background Sam/Kara
Rating: PG
Warnings: none
Beta Thanks: Thanks to ivanolix for looking it over!
Title, Author and URL of original story: scifiaddict86, Tension and Martyrs
It was on days like this that Jean regretted joining the Demetrius crew. Two weeks into their mission, tempers were starting to crack. Kara at least got to stay out of it, encased in her own obsession, but the rest of them frayed under the pressure of the smell and the heat and the uncertainty. Helo tried, but with his Cylon wife barely covering her anger about being there or suspicion of Kara, there wasn't much he could do.
But somehow, she found Gaeta's simmering resentment, Pike's mouth, and Seelix's biting suspicion of Kara, more tolerable than the way Sam did nothing about it. He went out on CAP, he dealt with Kara when he needed to, but otherwise, he barely seemed there. He played endless rounds of triad with Dragon, smoked cigarettes, and drank hooch until he should've been on the floor but he never seemed to get drunk either. He didn't smile, didn't joke; he watched everyone else with hooded eyes, shrugging off attempts to draw him into conversation and arguments. She knew the situation with Kara was bothering him, but that didn't seem to be enough to explain why he was so withdrawn.
It was strange and frustrating, as if he was purposefully shutting down the charisma that had bound the resistance to him on Caprica.
When the aft automatic pressure release valve failed, he volunteered to go fix it, and she followed him deep into the bowels of the ship. They pushed their way back into the even hotter confines near the engine, through narrow passageways lined with pipes.
"I got this, Jean. You don't have to come back here," he offered.
"I wanted to talk to you," she said.
"Oh?" he asked, examining the panel of valve gauges. "About what?"
"What the hell's wrong with you?" Jean demanded. "Gaeta gets more hateful every day, Seelix slurs Athena and Kara in front of you, and you sit there and act like you don't care."
He shrugged. "What do you want me to do? Everybody's more senior on this ship than I am. I'm hardly in a position to call Gaeta on the carpet for acting like a dick."
"Oh please. A couple of weeks of military training doesn't erase twenty years of knowing how to build a team."
"You might be surprised what a couple weeks can erase," he muttered and forcefully pulled on the small wheel to shut off the connecting valve. It complained with a screech of metal that made her grit her teeth.
"Sam..." she started, surprised by the bitter tone, then reached out to touch his shoulder. "You know you can talk to me, right? I like Kara and I'm glad she's back, but this can't be easy on you--"
"It's got nothing to do with Kara." He shrugged her hand off. Jean was glad to hear that, even though she didn't believe it.
"What then?"
He paused, hands on the small wheel. "Do you remember when we met?" he asked.
She smiled, a bit confused by the change of subject to something so long ago. "Of course. That was a good game. Though that ball was never in the safe zone."
He snorted. "Says the woman whose hard foul nearly broke my foot."
"Can't stand the hits, don't play the game," she retorted, just as she always had. It had been a very long tease between them.
He didn't play along though. Instead he asked, "But do you remember the first time you saw me?"
Now she frowned, wondering why he was asking. "Well, I remember the first time I noticed you, though I know I must have watched you play before that. They showed us tape of one of your Wildcats games and I remember my coach telling us all to watch you, because you were already running the court like a veteran."
He let out a long breath, as if the reminder of the old days had loosened something inside him.
"Sam?" she asked softly. "What's wrong?"
He shook his head, shoulders hunched inward as he ran a finger around the rim of the wheel. "I... sometimes..." he started haltingly. "Everything's so different now, I wonder if my life before the attacks was ... just a dream. I'm not sure it was ... real."
"Of course it was real," she said. "But I get how you feel. It was a different life." She heaved a disgusted breath and shook her head. "Frakking Cylons ruined everything."
He tensed and moved away, and she bit her lip, regretting the off-hand remark when there was still so much suspicion that Kara was a toaster, whatever Cottle said. "Sorry," she said.
He shrugged it off. "It's true. Nothing I haven't said myself."
"But it's not tactful with Athena and Kara here. See, even I'm falling into that habit. And it's just gonna get worse the longer this tour lasts. Pike and Gaeta and Seelix will listen to you if you tell 'em to mind their manners."
"You think so?" He used the wrench to unscrew the stuck valve with a grunt. "I made it pretty clear I'm on Kara's side. Gimme the grease."
She handed him the canister and watched him dip his fingers into the black ooze and rub it on the threads. She smiled a bit, watching, thinking that back in the day they'd been players, they'd never have gotten their hands this dirty for anything.
But they had been a team back then, and they needed to be a team now. Maybe he just needed a coach to remind him where to focus, if he was getting stuck in the past and how things used to be. "There shouldn't be a 'Kara side' -- we're all in this together. We should be a team. I shouldn't have to tell you that."
His head snapped up, irritation flashing across his face. "What the hell do you want from me?"
"I just want you to be Sam," she retorted.
"Yeah, well, I don't even know who that is anymore." He started screwing in the valve back in.
Jean watched him for a time, frowning. "Where's this coming from? Kara?"
He wiped at the sweat running down his face with his other hand. "No. It's nothing. Never mind."
"No, I'm not going to 'never mind'," she snapped, angry at the obvious lie and attempted brush off. But she took note of the rigid set of his shoulders and knew she needed a different tactic. More confrontation would push him farther away -- she needed to pull him out.
A deep breath centered her again, so she could say softly, "You're my friend. You're the only one I have left, and I feel like you're slipping away from me. Like you're giving up, and that's not the Sam I know." She shook her head at him, and grabbed his wrist to make him turn toward her. "We fought Cylons when we thought there was no way to win. And we won, because you held us together, Sam. We need you."
He shook his head, denying everything she was saying, and the look in his blue eyes was helpless and broken. But she'd seen that look before, a long time ago back on Caprica at the start of the resistance, and she knew he could come back, if she gave him a reason. She stared into his eyes and held his hands so he couldn't get away. "I need you. Kara needs you. The ship needs you. Put on your game face, smack down some jackass youngsters, and play the frakking game. And stop drinking so damn much."
"Yes, Coach." His lips twitched in a reluctant smile, amused in spite of himself, and he asked as a tentative joke, "C-Bucs rule?"
She nodded firmly. "Forever and ever, so say we all."
It finally reached him. He pulled her against him, wrapped his arms around her, and inhaled a shuddering breath. "Don't you ever frakking leave me," he whispered. "You remind me of me. I need that, gods, so much."
'If you anchor Kara, then who anchors you? Me,' she thought, and slipped her hands around his waist to hold him tight.
"I've got your back, babe. Always," she promised and rested her head on his shoulder. They still had each other to remind them of when life had been good: pyramid, not forever fighting and dying and misery.
They hugged until the heat started to make her dizzy, but it was worth it when he lifted his head, and gave a sigh. "You're right. I know you're right. I didn't want to get involved, but this ship already sucks hard enough, without the people making it worse, right? I'll do what I can."
"Glad to hear it. Now let's get the frak out of this hellhole." She kept hold of his hand and led him back to quarters, relieved that he was going to step up and get back into things.
It didn't happen as quickly as she hoped; there were days he came out Kara's quarters and went straight to the booze. But there were also better days when he remembered that he had a sense of humor. Better, he started using it to diffuse some of the tension. He also stopped worrying about rank, or at least using that as his excuse to avoid confrontation.
So when Gaeta made a bitter crack about voting Pike out an airlock and she felt sick at the reminder, Sam finally called him on it. "How about you cut the crap for five seconds, Felix? We didn't assign you here. Making us miserable isn't going to improve the situation. We all went through hell on that rock, and we all did things we're not proud of. Maybe if you stopped playing the martyr for five minutes, you'd figure that out."
Gaeta couldn't hold Sam's gaze and pretended his charts were fascinating. No one else spoke while Sam took food and mugs up to the captain's cabin and disappeared from view.
Gaeta stopped harping on the damn Circle, Seelix stopped making cracks about dead girls and toasters, and though Pike still said whatever dumb thing was in his head, everyone else learned to ignore him.
The ship sucked, but it was at least marginally more tolerable when all they had to worry about was the craziness of their captain and the heat, and not each other. After she and Sam built a makeshift pyramid backboard in the forward passage, there were some days that were pretty damn good.
author: lizardbeth_j
Summary: On the Demetrius people fall apart. Barolay tries to put one back together.
Characters: Sam Anders and Jean Barolay
Pairings: background Sam/Kara
Rating: PG
Warnings: none
Beta Thanks: Thanks to ivanolix for looking it over!
Title, Author and URL of original story: scifiaddict86, Tension and Martyrs
It was on days like this that Jean regretted joining the Demetrius crew. Two weeks into their mission, tempers were starting to crack. Kara at least got to stay out of it, encased in her own obsession, but the rest of them frayed under the pressure of the smell and the heat and the uncertainty. Helo tried, but with his Cylon wife barely covering her anger about being there or suspicion of Kara, there wasn't much he could do.
But somehow, she found Gaeta's simmering resentment, Pike's mouth, and Seelix's biting suspicion of Kara, more tolerable than the way Sam did nothing about it. He went out on CAP, he dealt with Kara when he needed to, but otherwise, he barely seemed there. He played endless rounds of triad with Dragon, smoked cigarettes, and drank hooch until he should've been on the floor but he never seemed to get drunk either. He didn't smile, didn't joke; he watched everyone else with hooded eyes, shrugging off attempts to draw him into conversation and arguments. She knew the situation with Kara was bothering him, but that didn't seem to be enough to explain why he was so withdrawn.
It was strange and frustrating, as if he was purposefully shutting down the charisma that had bound the resistance to him on Caprica.
When the aft automatic pressure release valve failed, he volunteered to go fix it, and she followed him deep into the bowels of the ship. They pushed their way back into the even hotter confines near the engine, through narrow passageways lined with pipes.
"I got this, Jean. You don't have to come back here," he offered.
"I wanted to talk to you," she said.
"Oh?" he asked, examining the panel of valve gauges. "About what?"
"What the hell's wrong with you?" Jean demanded. "Gaeta gets more hateful every day, Seelix slurs Athena and Kara in front of you, and you sit there and act like you don't care."
He shrugged. "What do you want me to do? Everybody's more senior on this ship than I am. I'm hardly in a position to call Gaeta on the carpet for acting like a dick."
"Oh please. A couple of weeks of military training doesn't erase twenty years of knowing how to build a team."
"You might be surprised what a couple weeks can erase," he muttered and forcefully pulled on the small wheel to shut off the connecting valve. It complained with a screech of metal that made her grit her teeth.
"Sam..." she started, surprised by the bitter tone, then reached out to touch his shoulder. "You know you can talk to me, right? I like Kara and I'm glad she's back, but this can't be easy on you--"
"It's got nothing to do with Kara." He shrugged her hand off. Jean was glad to hear that, even though she didn't believe it.
"What then?"
He paused, hands on the small wheel. "Do you remember when we met?" he asked.
She smiled, a bit confused by the change of subject to something so long ago. "Of course. That was a good game. Though that ball was never in the safe zone."
He snorted. "Says the woman whose hard foul nearly broke my foot."
"Can't stand the hits, don't play the game," she retorted, just as she always had. It had been a very long tease between them.
He didn't play along though. Instead he asked, "But do you remember the first time you saw me?"
Now she frowned, wondering why he was asking. "Well, I remember the first time I noticed you, though I know I must have watched you play before that. They showed us tape of one of your Wildcats games and I remember my coach telling us all to watch you, because you were already running the court like a veteran."
He let out a long breath, as if the reminder of the old days had loosened something inside him.
"Sam?" she asked softly. "What's wrong?"
He shook his head, shoulders hunched inward as he ran a finger around the rim of the wheel. "I... sometimes..." he started haltingly. "Everything's so different now, I wonder if my life before the attacks was ... just a dream. I'm not sure it was ... real."
"Of course it was real," she said. "But I get how you feel. It was a different life." She heaved a disgusted breath and shook her head. "Frakking Cylons ruined everything."
He tensed and moved away, and she bit her lip, regretting the off-hand remark when there was still so much suspicion that Kara was a toaster, whatever Cottle said. "Sorry," she said.
He shrugged it off. "It's true. Nothing I haven't said myself."
"But it's not tactful with Athena and Kara here. See, even I'm falling into that habit. And it's just gonna get worse the longer this tour lasts. Pike and Gaeta and Seelix will listen to you if you tell 'em to mind their manners."
"You think so?" He used the wrench to unscrew the stuck valve with a grunt. "I made it pretty clear I'm on Kara's side. Gimme the grease."
She handed him the canister and watched him dip his fingers into the black ooze and rub it on the threads. She smiled a bit, watching, thinking that back in the day they'd been players, they'd never have gotten their hands this dirty for anything.
But they had been a team back then, and they needed to be a team now. Maybe he just needed a coach to remind him where to focus, if he was getting stuck in the past and how things used to be. "There shouldn't be a 'Kara side' -- we're all in this together. We should be a team. I shouldn't have to tell you that."
His head snapped up, irritation flashing across his face. "What the hell do you want from me?"
"I just want you to be Sam," she retorted.
"Yeah, well, I don't even know who that is anymore." He started screwing in the valve back in.
Jean watched him for a time, frowning. "Where's this coming from? Kara?"
He wiped at the sweat running down his face with his other hand. "No. It's nothing. Never mind."
"No, I'm not going to 'never mind'," she snapped, angry at the obvious lie and attempted brush off. But she took note of the rigid set of his shoulders and knew she needed a different tactic. More confrontation would push him farther away -- she needed to pull him out.
A deep breath centered her again, so she could say softly, "You're my friend. You're the only one I have left, and I feel like you're slipping away from me. Like you're giving up, and that's not the Sam I know." She shook her head at him, and grabbed his wrist to make him turn toward her. "We fought Cylons when we thought there was no way to win. And we won, because you held us together, Sam. We need you."
He shook his head, denying everything she was saying, and the look in his blue eyes was helpless and broken. But she'd seen that look before, a long time ago back on Caprica at the start of the resistance, and she knew he could come back, if she gave him a reason. She stared into his eyes and held his hands so he couldn't get away. "I need you. Kara needs you. The ship needs you. Put on your game face, smack down some jackass youngsters, and play the frakking game. And stop drinking so damn much."
"Yes, Coach." His lips twitched in a reluctant smile, amused in spite of himself, and he asked as a tentative joke, "C-Bucs rule?"
She nodded firmly. "Forever and ever, so say we all."
It finally reached him. He pulled her against him, wrapped his arms around her, and inhaled a shuddering breath. "Don't you ever frakking leave me," he whispered. "You remind me of me. I need that, gods, so much."
'If you anchor Kara, then who anchors you? Me,' she thought, and slipped her hands around his waist to hold him tight.
"I've got your back, babe. Always," she promised and rested her head on his shoulder. They still had each other to remind them of when life had been good: pyramid, not forever fighting and dying and misery.
They hugged until the heat started to make her dizzy, but it was worth it when he lifted his head, and gave a sigh. "You're right. I know you're right. I didn't want to get involved, but this ship already sucks hard enough, without the people making it worse, right? I'll do what I can."
"Glad to hear it. Now let's get the frak out of this hellhole." She kept hold of his hand and led him back to quarters, relieved that he was going to step up and get back into things.
It didn't happen as quickly as she hoped; there were days he came out Kara's quarters and went straight to the booze. But there were also better days when he remembered that he had a sense of humor. Better, he started using it to diffuse some of the tension. He also stopped worrying about rank, or at least using that as his excuse to avoid confrontation.
So when Gaeta made a bitter crack about voting Pike out an airlock and she felt sick at the reminder, Sam finally called him on it. "How about you cut the crap for five seconds, Felix? We didn't assign you here. Making us miserable isn't going to improve the situation. We all went through hell on that rock, and we all did things we're not proud of. Maybe if you stopped playing the martyr for five minutes, you'd figure that out."
Gaeta couldn't hold Sam's gaze and pretended his charts were fascinating. No one else spoke while Sam took food and mugs up to the captain's cabin and disappeared from view.
Gaeta stopped harping on the damn Circle, Seelix stopped making cracks about dead girls and toasters, and though Pike still said whatever dumb thing was in his head, everyone else learned to ignore him.
The ship sucked, but it was at least marginally more tolerable when all they had to worry about was the craziness of their captain and the heat, and not each other. After she and Sam built a makeshift pyramid backboard in the forward passage, there were some days that were pretty damn good.