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number_eightCavil thinks he's in charge, and I used to think that, too. Actually, I guess, he is. I thought it was Ellen at first, the way she acted when she was resurrected with her entire "motherly" attitude to me, to Cavil, to all of us.
Look, let me set this straight, Ellen. Just because you created us doesn't mean you are frakking God. In fact, you're less than God because you actually think that what you're doing is the right thing. Look at me, Ellen.
LOOK AT ME.
I'm a broken mess of a Cylon. These human feelings you put into me, into every single Eight, has frakked me up. I'm frakking Cavil, I'm thinking and dreaming about Galen, I frakked Helo to get away and...
No, I didn't. I frakked him to hurt Athena.
Why won't the brat shut up?
"I want my Mommy!"
Stupid girl. Maybe if I make her shut up, I'll stop thinking about Athena and Helo and Galen and everything that I left behind on Galactica so that I could do what Cavil told me to do. Yeah, that would've been the plan, until Hera touched my hand and she entered my projection.
She stopped crying. I gave her some food, and... except for her hair, she really reminded me of my daughter with Galen, the one I thought we could have had on Picon in the projection of the fake, perfect life.
God, Ellen's pleas in my head, Cavil's orders, Hera's huge eyes. They're all pulling at me worse than any guilt I have, and once I handed Hera over to Cavil, and he took her away, she didn't scream for her Mommy.
She screamed for me. Boomer. Boomer. Boomer. Over and over, she just kept saying my name and I wanted to go to her, to stop Cavil, but... but no one tells Cavil what he can or can't do. That's the problem. He's not held accountable to anyone or anything. I was wrong.
Oh, God, Hera, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, just stop crying, please? Don't cry, don't cry, no, you're making me cry...
--
You're making me cry, no, you're making me cry, stop it, Karl, please, don't. Don't talk to me. Don't come near me. Our daughter is gone because no one here was watching her, not really, no one who gave a damn about her the way that we do, and she's gone, forever, probably.
"You hate me, don't you?"
Yes. No. Yes! I don't know. Karl, please, go away. Don't touch me, don't talk to me, don't try and make me hate you more than I do. It's not going to work.
I just wanted to curl up into a ball and die right then and there.
Where had the guards been when Boomer escaped? Fine, Galen confessed and he was in the brig now for what he did to help Boomer escape, but there should have been more security.... there should have been...
But no. Of course not. Why bother watching Boomer when you've got the Chief right there, helping things out? You'd trust him. We all did. We didn't watch over what he did, or make sure nothing bad happened to the poor Eight he clubbed over the head and put into the brig.
If I can't trust the humans or the Cylons, who can I trust?
Not my husband. Oh, God, I'm sorry, but I can't, Karl. You frakked her, you frakked Boomer, and you think that if I get mad enough at you, if I hit you or vent that I'll be okay? It doesn't work that way. I fell to the floor in sobs, not able to even speak, and later on, Karl told me that the Old Man had sent out Heavy Raiders to look for Hera and... nothing. So now, he's giving up.
He lost Zak. I lost Hera. And I'm supposed to accept that? I'm supposed to just embrace my husband and frakking accept that, Admiral?
No, sir. No. You know what?
I don't frakking trust you anymore now, either. Sir.
Muse: Sharon "Boomer" Valerii and Sharon "Athena" Agathon
Fandom: Misc. TV/"Battlestar Galactica"
Word Count: 681 (not including direct quotes)
