Summary: Just a short introspective into Lee's thoughts after Kara went with Baltar.
Rating: T, just to be on the safe side
Disclaimer: They aren't mine (heck, I would be thankful, if I even only had a BSG2003-DVD…), and they'll never be. Not making any money with it, either (though I could really, really use it – meesa poor broke college senior…). Just don't sue me.
Spoilers: Colonial Day and Kobol's Last Gleaming I (just to be on the safe side... I'm not entirely sure when the thing with Baltar happened).
A/N: All right, this is something I've never done before. Writing a fanfiction for a show I haven't even had the luck of seeing yet (this is Germany here… we never get the good science-fiction shows :P), but since there exist such wonderful things as episode guides and fan sites and quite a bunch of other BSG2003-fanfiction on the net, I had the opportunity to get a pretty good look into the character dynamics, and when I was sitting in the train from Erfurt to Berlin and listening to the "Moulin Rouge"-version of "Roxanne", and in an instant, this story was born. I just hope it's not too OOC. Anyway, this is already such a long note for such a short story, thus I think I'll end it here. Enjoy.
"His lips upon your face,
His hand upon your hand,
His lips caress your skin,
It's more than I can stand."
Ewan McGregor, "Roxanne", from "Moulin Rouge"
You went with him. And you didn't return to your bunk that night. I know, not only from all their whisperings behind my back and from their looks at me, but from being there. Sitting there, alone, the whole night, waiting for you. Searing with hot and breathless desire, wanting you to be in my arms, frakking you senseless.
And all the time feeling like the last idiot. I had you, I should have claimed you right then and there, in the front of the whole Colonial government and military command. I should have made clear to whom you belong. But instead of kissing you right then and there the way I should have, I went away, afraid you would resent me, afraid of being embarrassed in front of them, in front of my father for frak's sake. And then you went with him.
After having it confirmed from people who had seen you and him, the only pictures in my mind I had were you and him, always you and him. His hands on your body, his mouth on your mouth, taking what belongs to me. It should have been me. My handy. My Mouth. But you went with him.
And I can't even really blame you. After my stupid comments about your knees and my inability to ask you to dance properly, I can't say I'd feel very flattered if I had been in your place. But you in a dress… I always thought you were beautiful, but you were breathtaking in that dress. And so my head was clouded with desire and want and fear of rejection and all I could do was fleeing into sarcasm and nonchalance. Again. And in the end you went with him.
He charmed you the proper way, all sweet words and flirting, no doubt. I've seen how he hold you when you were dancing, and how he whispered nonsense into your ear, making you smile and giggle and even blush. That should have been me. Instead he took you with him, and now the images I have in my head are almost killing me. I just can't shake those pictures of you two in bed. I see him touch you and hear him talk to you, saying all the things I should be saying, and then I hear you screaming his name, and it's more than I can bear.
I have to stop all this. I have to make it all go away. I have to forget you. If I am too stupid to get you then I shouldn't be dwelling on all of this. Forgetting you and my stupid desire would be a mercy. For both of us. And I will start. Right tomorrow morning. For now I am content just with watching you sleep and imagining that it was me you went to bed with last night.