BSG Fic: Credence
Apr. 26th, 2005 02:35 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
woodfaceDisclaimer: not mine.
Rating: PG
Characters: Adama, and some Kara/Zak
Set/Spoilers: set pre-series and during miniseries, spoilers for Act of Contrition.
Summary: He lost his faith more than forty years ago.
A/N: Huge big thanks to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
poohmusings for the beta and stars_like_dust and bantha_fodder.
He lost his faith more than forty years ago. The day is still clear in his mind, despite the many deaths he witnessed afterwards – or maybe because of them. It had been just him and his wingman, trying to hold back an entire squadron of Cylon raiders until the alert fighters could join the battle.
Even now there are still nights that he wakes up to the desperate prayers coming in over the comm system as his rack mate was sent spiralling down into the atmosphere of some nameless planet. They never recovered his viper or his body – the reports said it burned up before it could reach the ground. The coffin they committed to the ground a week later was empty, and the prayers still rang in his ears as if they had no heavens to go to.
The ceremony was the first of many and soon he learned there were no gods on the battlefield as every prayer – sometimes no longer than one word – resonated inside of him, never reaching its destination. He couldn’t make up his mind whether the gods just left them or if they were never there to begin with, but every time the priest spoke those same words, a part of him knew with clarity that he would never see his mates again.
By the time the war ended, he made captain and was the CAG onboard the Colonial Fleet’s finest battlestar, the Galactica. There was a long ceremony to celebrate the peace treaty with the Cylons. At the request of his commander, he spoke of the dead and thanked the Lords of Kobol as was expected of him. The words sounded hollow, but no one questioned him. He came to loathe protocol.
It was decades later – he was now the commander of that same battlestar – when a pale looking officer walked into his private quarters and quietly informed him of the death of his youngest son. He spent over an hour blankly staring in front of him, his lips moving while the prayers remained locked inside of him. When he stood next to the coffin holding his son’s body, he would have given the world and more to believe the promises the priest made. Instead he reached for the woman quietly breaking apart beside him and wished he believed in the gods as much for her sake as his own.
As it turned out, she had faith enough for the both of them. He didn’t dare question whatever had brought Kara Thrace into his life; he just gratefully accepted this one chance he was offered to be closer to his son through her. It was a delicate balance, one he feared would shatter when the Cylons returned with their own religion.
The ceremony they’re holding to commemorate the billions of souls killed by the Cylons during the second war is too small to do them justice. He can feel the defeat amongst the survivors, hear it in their voices, and he knows without a doubt that their minds are already dreaming of reuniting with those they've lost. So he steps forward and gives them a faith he didn't know still resided within him.
He’s unsure if he can truly believe again; maybe he’s too old to change so drastically. But while he still wakes to the same prayers of despair, he likes to think they don’t sound so desperate anymore.
Rating: PG
Characters: Adama, and some Kara/Zak
Set/Spoilers: set pre-series and during miniseries, spoilers for Act of Contrition.
Summary: He lost his faith more than forty years ago.
A/N: Huge big thanks to
poohmusings for the beta and stars_like_dust and bantha_fodder.He lost his faith more than forty years ago. The day is still clear in his mind, despite the many deaths he witnessed afterwards – or maybe because of them. It had been just him and his wingman, trying to hold back an entire squadron of Cylon raiders until the alert fighters could join the battle.
Even now there are still nights that he wakes up to the desperate prayers coming in over the comm system as his rack mate was sent spiralling down into the atmosphere of some nameless planet. They never recovered his viper or his body – the reports said it burned up before it could reach the ground. The coffin they committed to the ground a week later was empty, and the prayers still rang in his ears as if they had no heavens to go to.
The ceremony was the first of many and soon he learned there were no gods on the battlefield as every prayer – sometimes no longer than one word – resonated inside of him, never reaching its destination. He couldn’t make up his mind whether the gods just left them or if they were never there to begin with, but every time the priest spoke those same words, a part of him knew with clarity that he would never see his mates again.
By the time the war ended, he made captain and was the CAG onboard the Colonial Fleet’s finest battlestar, the Galactica. There was a long ceremony to celebrate the peace treaty with the Cylons. At the request of his commander, he spoke of the dead and thanked the Lords of Kobol as was expected of him. The words sounded hollow, but no one questioned him. He came to loathe protocol.
It was decades later – he was now the commander of that same battlestar – when a pale looking officer walked into his private quarters and quietly informed him of the death of his youngest son. He spent over an hour blankly staring in front of him, his lips moving while the prayers remained locked inside of him. When he stood next to the coffin holding his son’s body, he would have given the world and more to believe the promises the priest made. Instead he reached for the woman quietly breaking apart beside him and wished he believed in the gods as much for her sake as his own.
As it turned out, she had faith enough for the both of them. He didn’t dare question whatever had brought Kara Thrace into his life; he just gratefully accepted this one chance he was offered to be closer to his son through her. It was a delicate balance, one he feared would shatter when the Cylons returned with their own religion.
The ceremony they’re holding to commemorate the billions of souls killed by the Cylons during the second war is too small to do them justice. He can feel the defeat amongst the survivors, hear it in their voices, and he knows without a doubt that their minds are already dreaming of reuniting with those they've lost. So he steps forward and gives them a faith he didn't know still resided within him.
He’s unsure if he can truly believe again; maybe he’s too old to change so drastically. But while he still wakes to the same prayers of despair, he likes to think they don’t sound so desperate anymore.
