270 - Thirteen

[number_eight]

Who would've known that Ellen Tigh was a Cylon? Then again, who would've known that I was one?

God, this is so frakked up, I can't even begin to think about it. Cavil (John, Cavil, I don't know anymore!) saved me. He saved me, and taught me about the truth of being a Cylon. How to be a better machine. How to stop trying so hard to be human because humanity was dying away, anyway. All the humans I knew on Galactica didn't care about me anymore and certainly the Cylons I knew on the baseships didn't, either. That's why they threw that brat, Hera, at me. "Oh look, she's an Eight model. They're all the same. She can take care of the hybrid."

Yeah, right.

I met Ellen, the real Ellen, not the one with the fake memories, and it all slipped into place. Things I never understood before. Things like the idea that Ellen was our maker. She made me.

Let me repeat that.

She. Made. Me.

She made me flawed, though, like Cavil (John, whatever his name is!) pointed out. She made us all flawed, made us think and feel like we were human. She wanted us to love people. Who could I love? Who? Who would love me back? Who would love me? I'm not going to love a human. Why would I do that? Humans don't... they... there's... look, Ellen limited us by trapping us in these bodies that look and feel human when we're not. We're not human. We're not Centurians. We're something in-between that can't be a true Cylon and can't be a human and God, why am I even mentioning humans and love in the same sentence?

I asked her, "Who would I want to love?" and Ellen had no answer for me. I don't love Cavil. I'm his "pet Cylon" and nothing else, he just... uses me, the same way he has used every other Cylon, and I see that now, God, why? Why when it's too late?

It's not too late. I can do something. It's too late for D'Anna and for Daniel -- Daniel! A Thirteenth Cylon! Cavil hid him from all of us, he killed him simply because he could, and why? Why kill one of our own and lie about it, box another line... it's too late for the Threes and the Sevens.

Thinking about a thirteenth model still makes me go slightly crazy, just knowing what John (his name's John, it is) has done. He uses us. All of us to get what he wants and that's what he's doing to me. I dance for him, bring him food and water, and for what? I'm trapped on this baseship with him while he gets ready to kill Ellen, our maker.

Our mother.

She's got answers to things I always wanted to know about, and she's not going to use me like he is. She's not going to kill me like Daniel was killed. And I can... I can forgive her. For making me flawed. For making me so human that I fell in love with Galen Tyrol.

"Who would I want to love?"

My mother. Mother of us all, and whether it's right or wrong, I've got to get her back to Galactica where the other Cylons are at, the other Eights and Sixes and Twos. The Final Four... Four only because the thirteenth model was killed.

But I can do this for her. For us. For me. I can be better -- not a better machine the way Cavil thinks we should, but just a better me. Not the innocent girl who had fake memories back on Galactica and not the girl who was so jealous of Athena that I tried to kill her daughter, but... maybe I can figure out who I am. Maybe Ellen can help.

Maybe I'll see Galen there and he'll...

The plan was easy. Grab Ellen, get in the Raptor, and Jump.

Now, all I can do is pray that it works. Please God, let it work.



Muse: Sharon "Boomer" Valerii
Fandom: Misc. TV/"Battlestar Galactica"
Word Count: 677 (not including direct quotes)