Disclaimer: so not mine. Rating: er. 18+ vague sex mentions.
Pairing: Kara Thrace/Sam Anders Genre: CRACKFIC of epic proportions.
Crossover: Highlander, but only borrowing aspects of the universe.
Notes: Apparently, I'm extra wanky tonight.
Lenght: 1,000+ (where is this impetus for other things?)

I think that I would die
by ALC Punk!

The first time Sam Anders dies, he doesn't really think much of it. He's pretty sure he died, but he doesn't get why he didn't die die.

He's not a skinjob, they always wake in a new body.

Bringing the roof down on himself hurts, but he'll live. He has to live, because, well, he doesn't think he can die. Which is weird.

He pretty much chalks it down to too much terror and exhaustion, figures it was a bad knock on the head and heads back to the resistance base camp after the strange skinjobs (one of 'em a copy of the chick who was with Starbuck) keep him alive.

There seems to be dissension in the cylon ranks. More fool they.


The second time Sam Anders dies, Kara Thrace is clutching his jacket, dragging him into the shelter of the old fort. The stone is probably hundreds of years old. He isn't.

He comes to faster, this time, to hear Kara yelling something.

A loud ringing in his head makes him wonder what the frak is up, but the cylons are still shooting and he doesn't have time to ask.

"Good to have you back."



Sam wonders if he could kill Kara, figures he can. He's not sure she can kill him, though. He kind of hopes they don't have to test his theory.


It drives him up the wall, but he kind of likes that every time Kara's nearby he can feel her. Not in a good way (at least not until she's close enough to touch, and then he's feelin' her all right), but in a someone shoving a spike in his back way. Or into his brain. He really doesn't get it.

But he's grateful, because it gives him a way of surprising her.


Or so he thinks.


"Finally," Kara says one night, shoving him into an empty storage locker. "All alone, no crises..." She kisses him, then pulls back and smirks. "So. You're an immortal."

"I'm a what?" Far more interested in the skin under her clothes, he's starts attempting to get to it.

"Immortal. Oh my gods. You don't know." She snickers, then catches his hands, trying to be serious. "Oh, this is great. Gods. Ok, Sam, you gotta listen, ok?"

"Listening," he mumbles, kissing her neck.

"No, really. Stop--" A growly sound escapes her when he nips just below her ear. "Sammy."

"Fine, fine. I'm listening."

"Ok." She laughs, then grins wildly at him. "Immortals. There can be only one. No, wait, now how did that go. Ok. Immortals are just that, immortal. Can't be killed--at least not permanently. And the first time you die, that's as old as you get."


Ok, really, maybe he should have Doc Cottle look at her. She wasn't sounding too, well, all there.

"No, it's true. I don't know a hell of a lot--I've only met one other immortal, and she died, well, a while ago."


"You're an immortal. I'm an immortal. As far as I can tell, we're the only ones left."

"So... We can't be killed."

"Unless someone chops our heads off. But, bullets do hurt. And you can get stuck in space with no air, and let me tell you, dying of oxygen starvation is NOT fun." She shudders, then smirks at him. "And we can tell when another immortal is around."

"The headache."


"You're cute," he kisses her, tangles a hand in her hair to hold her still. Because, hell, when your girlfriend says you can't die, you'd love to believe it.

But reality doesn't work like that.


The third time Sam Anders dies, Kara was proving her point.


He doesn't speak to her for almost a week.


"I said I was sorry!"

"You killed me!"

"I had to make it real!"

He throws a glass at her.


The rest of Galactica just assumes it's a lovers' quarrel and gives them a wide berth. Starbuck beats Kat's record in the chair. Anders ends up training with the marines.


"I said I was sorry."

Empty storage closets can be useful.

Sam shrugs, still not speaking to her. He's down with the touching thing. She almost died out there, pulling some frakking idiotic stunt against Scar mark II.

"Talk to me."

He grunts.


So he gropes her.

She gropes back.

"It's true."


He gropes her again, "You may be immortal, but if you EVER do something so frakking stupid again I will take your head myself."

"You don't have the chops, baby."

Sam yanks her shirt free of her pants and strokes her belly. "Wanna bet?"

"Oh, I'd like to see you try."

They fight, then frak, then fight some more. Until they're frakking again. Sam figures it's about right for their frakked-up little world.


He gets better at the fighting thing. Kara kicks his ass less, at least.

Sometimes, Helo mocks them both, lollipop in his mouth. Like he knows something neither of them know.

When Sam asks about the tattoo on his wrist, he says it's something his mother liked.


Children weren't something he'd thought about, but with three of the female pilots off the roster due to, well, children, he has to ask.

"We can't." The words are tight, clipped.

"I just..."

"No, Sam. We can't. Ever."

And she's so... something he isn't sure of that he drops it then and there. Because, really, kids aren't something he's ready to deal with anyway. But he once thought he'd make a great dad.


"Immortals can't have children."

This is not a conversation he was expecting to have with Helo. Really, the man had more depth than one would expect. "What?"

"No one knows why. Something in the way the biology works. Kara..."

"She's special," Sam guesses.

"Yeah. Something like that." A hand touches his arm, and Sam notices the tattoo again, "Look, just give her time, ok? This is something she has to work through herself."

"Does she know?"

"Yeah. Doesn't mean she doesn't have issues about it, anyway."


No one else knows. Not that it's something he ever plans to talk about.

"Except Doc," Kara corrects him one night.

Another storage closet. Habits are hard to break, even with most of Galactica spread through the fleet as police now. The cylons haven't come back.

But they haven't found Earth, either.

Sam's not sure whether he cares. "Doc knows?"

"Yeah. He, ah, pronounced me dead once."


"Bad bender," she hedges, turning her head and kissing his jaw.

"Oh." He lets it go, because if it's something he should know, she'll tell him. And besides, she's offering sex. And sex with Kara is fleeting, given the number of patrols she's on.


He's used to the way she makes his brain ache now. Used to a lot of things, really. Not the dying part, of course (though he hasn't died again).

Neither of them is sure how it's going to work when people start aging and they don't.

But, really, that's a worry for after they find Earth.