Disclaimer: not mine.
Pairings: er... Kara/Anders, some Kara/Lee, a little Kara/Helo, and Kara/guns?
Spoilers: Through the end of season three.
Rating: R. violence, swearing.
Notes: Someone had to do it.

Five Times Kara Thrace Killed Sam Anders by ALC Punk!

Climbing out of the cockpit, she saw him. He was standing, looking as though his world had crashed down around his ears. And it had. Because Kara knew, knew with a certainty, that her husband wasn't human. That everything he'd been to her was a lie.

And Kara couldn't allow him to jeopardize everything. Not here and now, with Earth so close. It killed something inside of her to watch him move towards her, knowing what she was going to do.

But it was so easy to point her sidearm at him and pull the trigger. He actually looked surprised as the bullets slammed home. He fell backwards, still looking surprised and aware. Kara's eyes fell, and she traced the stark black of his tattoo before she stepped back.

The crowd surged around her, swarming and confused.

Afterwards, she let Helo hold her, and tried not to cry. He was a Cylon, after all. And Starbuck didn't frakking cry for Cylons.

"Is it really you?" She asks, staring up at the man who she can barely see in the half-lit corridor.

"Yeah." Sam smiles happily at her, and starts babbling about getting off the planet, and how they need to go.

And Kara knows there's a knife on his belt, because there would be one, and she has it out and he doesn't stand a chance, eyes going wide as it goes in just under his ribs. "You're not real," she says. "You're dead."

He can't be real. Leoben showed her the body, and the tattoo on his arms, the careless sprawl of his hair had told her the truth. So he falls, still staring and shocked. And then Conners is grabbing her arm and shouting something and Kara shrugs him off, knife moving towards him, too. Because if Sam isn't real (he tasted like dirt and desperation and gun oil), then neither is Conners.

A rifle-butt slams into the back of her head, and she falls into a well of darkness.

When she wakes, she's sure the nightmare will begin again.

Asking Lee for the antibiotics would mean talking to Lee. And that was just something Kara simply couldn't do. She's not strong enough to face the man she spurned. The man she pushed away, because his love was too perfect and clean for her.

So she tried a couple ways of getting them, and they all failed. And meanwhile, Sam got paler and paler. He contacts in the black market didn't do her squat, trying to get someone else to ask Lee didn't work--Tigh had just laughed, and told her she needed to grow the frak up and face her own gods-damned demons. It was frustrating and demoralizing, and Sam got worse, until she came home one day, and he'd coughed up too much blood.

"Dammit, Sam," she murmured, cleaning him off.

He didn't smile as he looked up at her, eyes distant and bright with fever.

It wasn't long before he stopped coughing, before his eyes closed and she couldn't see the death in them anymore.

Cottle would tell her it was inevitable, that the cold and damp were too much--even with his strength. But Kara knew he blamed her. That was fine. Kara blamed herself, too.

Two days later, the morning the Cylons came, Sam Anders was buried with quiet ceremony. Before she could join the resistance, Kara found herself caught by Leoben, shoved into something from one of her worst nightmares. In some ways, she wondered if she deserved it.

And when the fleet swooped down to save the colonists, no one tried to find Kara Thrace.

Kara had made him promise.

The woods on Caprica weren't silent, the gunfire shattering the stillness and sending what birds had survived the holocaust into hiding. The Cylons had regrouped, and were still coming. More and more of them. Sharon took a bullet, and then Helo, and then it was just the marines and Kara and Sam.

Inevitable, then, she thought as she ran out of bullets for her automatic. She dropped the rifle and pulled out her sidearm. Ten rounds left. Nine for the cylons.

One for Sam.

The nine went fast, too fast, and then the marines were out, too. And there was nothing left to do. They could fight hand-to-hand, but the centurions would overwhelm them. And they'd be broken and bruised, but easily fixeable. And then they would lock them back up in farms. Kara shivered, the feeling of being strapped to a bed strong in her mind.

As the cylons poured into the small enclosure, Kara turned to him and pulled the trigger. 'I'm not going back, Sam.' Her last sight was of Sam pulling the trigger on her.

"On three." Kara snapped.

"Fine." Arrogant, Sam Anders stared at her, and said, "One."


"Three." With ease, he pointed his rifle up and lowered it.

Which made it easier for Kara to shoot him between the eyes, before whirling and taking out Sue-Shaun and two of the others. Helo got the rest. And then it was quiet again, and Kara looked at Helo, "So, how many model of Cylon is there?"

"Don't know, but I'm guessing it doesn't matter." Looking around, he shook his head, "Let's get the frak out of here, Kara."

"Get the ammo, we might need it," she snapped. She moved and took Anders' rifles, ignoring the fact that his body was still warm and pliable. His eyes were open wide, blue-grey in the over-bright Caprican afternoon. And dead. She could smell the blood from the bullet holes. Her fingers brushed over the insignia he wore, and she closed her eyes.

They could have been human, but Kara had a destiny, and she wasn't about to take that risk. Not with 50,000 lives hanging in the balance.

Helo was silent as they piled back into the jeep.