Disclaimer: Not mine.
Rating: er... R, language, violence, sex, language, het.
Pairing: Kara/Anders Spoilers: Through season three, Crossroads, etc.
Length: 2,300 + Notes: I've given up on deciding if this makes sense.

Wandering Star by ALC Punk!

Kara was laughing at something Lee said, when it finally occurred to her that she hadn't seen Sam. Not anywhere, and it had certainly been long enough for someone to go get him. "Hey, Lee?"

"Yes, Kara?" Lounging back in his chair, Lee did not look like he had a stick up his ass.

"Where's Sam?" As if the mention of the man's name changed things (and maybe it did), Lee's face froze for an instant. Kara narrowed her eyes at him, "You're not still jealous of him or something, are you?"

"Kara..." Carefully setting his glass down, Lee straightened. "I was going to wait until you'd had time to adjust to being back, but since you asked, Sam is a Cylon."

She laughed, the sound bouncing off the walls, "Oh, Lee, that's a good one. What next, is the Admiral a Cylon, too?"

"It's not a joke, Kara."

Maybe it was the sadness in his eyes, or the way a muscle in his jaw twitched, but Kara stopped laughing. Lee was serious. Sam was a Cylon. A strange sense of betrayal bit into her followed by self-loathing. She should have known. She should have known the only man who could love her like that would be just another Cylon. First Zak, then Leoben, now Sam. "I want to see him." Her voice grated on her ears.

Lee studied her for a moment, then nodded, "All right. I'll take you down to him."

Neither of them spoke on the journey. Kara didn't want to, and Lee seemed to be regretting something. Once at the brig, Lee gestured the marine out and took up a post by the door. Kara stared at the man in the cell, his head down as though he had nothing to think about.

She almost couldn't bring herself to approach him, but she did, unlocking the cell and stepping inside.

The sound made his head snap up and he stared at her, recognition and shock in his eyes. "Kara..." There was hope there for a moment, then it seemed to crumble--he knew she knew. "I'm glad you're alive." At least he was honest.


"So." Kara said, staring at him. "You're a Cylon."

"Apparently." Looking at her, gaze calm, Sam stood and took one step towards her, as if uncertain that he was allowed to.

Kara dug into her pain, flinging the words at him before she thought them through. Before they ripped a hole through her. "I mean, hell, at least it explains why you love me: you were programmed to."

"No." Sam stared at her, hurt in his eyes, "Kara, no."

Her words continued, almost ruthless, "You said it yourself. Why would you wait all that time for me? Gods, why would you keep coming back to me, Sam? You're just a programmed machine."

"That's not true!"

"How is it not true, Samuel T. Anders?" She demanded, "You're a Cylon, a machine. You don't have thoughts and feelings, you have programming and circuitry."

"You think I haven't thought of that?" His tone suddenly harsh, he stepped towards her again, "Once I figured it out, I tried, Kara. I tried to figure out where me loving you and my programming worked out, and I don't know where it does. I just know that I love you, and I can't stop. Even when you were dead..."

"That's nice, Sam." Kara sneered, "You're a machine that can't break its programming."

"Besides, machines aren't the only ones who love you, Kara." Raising his head, Sam nailed Lee with a look, "He loves you too and I don't think Lee Adama is a Cylon."

"Leave him out of this."

"Why? Because you're afraid to admit that it's human to love you?"

"I'm not afraid of anything, Sam."

He took another step closer, and she suddenly realized he was close enough to touch. "I know. That's one of the reasons I fell in love with you."

Shit. "Stop that."

His eyebrows shot up. "Stop what?"

Kara glared at him. He knew exactly what he was doing, damn him. "Sam."


Frustrated, angry, and miserable, Kara gave up and just lashed out, fingers folded into a fist.

The impact snapped Sam's head back and he grabbed her hand, yanking it down and behind her back. Kara stumbled forward, bringing her right up against his chest. "Ow." He informed her, glaring.


His hand released her wrist, fingers shifting down to wrap around hers. Her knuckles were numb, she thought absently as his other hand came up to touch her face, something strange in his eyes. "You're alive."

"We covered that before," Kara pointed out, irrationally wishing he'd get pissed at her.

"Kara..." he snorted, releasing her hand and stepping back, arms dropping to his sides. "I'm a Cylon. That's more important. Right."

"Maybe not." It was her turn to step forward, and she didn't give him time to pull away before her arms were wrapped around his waist. "I think you'll like Earth, Sam."

"Oh?" He was shaking as he wrapped his own arms around her.


The thought of never seeing Sam again, of sending him out an airlock to die in the vacuum of space shook Kara to the core. All the things she'd said--she'd meant them. And in the end, they didn't matter. Because even if Sam was programmed to love her, she couldn't help loving him back. The thought of him not being there would leave way too big a hole in her life. Shoving the excessively emotional thoughts into a corner, Kara tightened her arms around him. "For one thing, there's lots of trees."

It still felt weird that the men who loved her were machines--except Lee. Sam had been right about that.

There was a soft sound from behind them, and Lee said, voice quiet, "You have half an hour before I come back in." The clang of the hatch shutting sounded oddly final.

"Only a half hour?" Sam snorted, "What does he think we are?"

"Well, you're a machine." Almost amused, Kara poked him, "So, strip. I have plans for that body of yours."

"You always did like my stamina."

"That wasn't the only thing," smirking up at him, she yanked his zipper down, "And I haven't had sex since before I died."

"We'll break the cot." Sam warned, hands busy with her tanks.

"Then it'll feel like New Caprica all over again."

They both paused, and the teasing light left Sam's eyes as he looked at her. "I wish--"

"Shh." Kara's finger pressed against his lips, "No wishing, more undressing, Mr. Anders."

He yanked his hands up, pulling her tanks and bra up and then off as she raised her arms for him in one smooth (mostly) movement. For a moment, Kara almost felt self-conscious, standing there half naked in the brig. Then she had to grin as he stopped to feast his eyes on her. "Hot."

"Yes, I am." She shoved at his chest, "And you're still dressed."

His hands went to her waist and he picked her up, moving her back against the bars, "That can wait," he suggested, setting her down and dropping to his knees in front of her. He kissed her belly, licking and sucking at it as his hands untied her boots and then took her pants down.

"Sam--" Kara tried to object, but his mouth was distracting, "Sam, I want--" She couldn't help letting him spread her legs and lean in, licking at her thigh. She knew what his tongue could do, and while she definitely wanted all of him, right now? His tongue would do.

"What do you want, Kara?" He asked, breath brushing against her.

She wrapped a hand around one of the bars of his cell and growled at him, "Do I have to draw you a diagram, Sam?"


A part of her was jumping up and down, shouting that he was a Cylon, and what the frak was she doing? But a far larger part was remembering Caprica--falling into him, laughing and joking until they couldn't breathe and his mouth was on hers--or later, mouth on her hand as he sent her off--and even later, drunk and falling over and then trying to die against Scar, and she couldn't because of him. Always because of him, she thought, brain scattering into tiny bits and pieces.

Like a frakking moon, he kept coming back, never breaking free of his orbit of her. And she was just as bad. She could sleep with twenty different men and women in three months, and come back to their tent to find him in their bed, waiting.

That wasn't the point, she tried to remind herself. He was a Cylon.

But coming down from the orgasm his mouth had just given her, she couldn't make a distinction between human and machine.

"Now I know why I kept you around," she mumbled.

He chuckled, hands on her waist to keep her from sliding to the floor. "Well, I never thought it was for my brain."

"No, no," Kara contradicted him, "Your brain is twisted."

"That a fact?" He tilted his head and looked up at her, eyes calm. "And here I thought you mostly liked me for my stamina."

"There were other reasons."

He shifted, eyes darkening and face freezing as he detected the past tense in her words. His hands dropped from her waist. "There were, huh?" He carefully stood, backing away from her.

"You're still wearing clothes," Kara noted, ignoring the look in his eyes for the moment. "Strip."



Head up, as if to keep from looking vulnerable, he obeyed. His shirt came off first, and Kara's eyes dropped from his to check him for new scars. There weren't any, and she didn't know why she looked. His pants and boxers and socks were next, all in a pile. And then he stood there, looking at her.

"Like what you see?" His voice was calm, but his eyes were bleak.

Kara dropped her gaze to crotch-level, and smirked at the evidence of his arousal. She wasn't going to think about the metaphysical implications of stripping him naked. Instead, she was going to concentrate on mundane things. "Oh, yeah. And so do you."

"This isn't a game, Kara," his tone was suddenly harsh.

She met his eyes, and shrugged, "No, I suppose it's not. Get on the bed."

For a moment, he looked like he might refuse, then the light in his eyes went out and he slumped and did as he was told.

He was a machine, Kara tried to remind herself. But he had been a man first, had slid past all her defenses and laid her bare. Now it was her turn, and she didn't like it. "Sam."

"What?" Staring up at the ceiling, he didn't have to look at her.

She climbed onto the cot, straddling him. 'So easy...' Her hands grabbed his, linking their fingers. "You look like someone killed your favorite pyramid ball, Sam."

A blink, and his eyes met hers again. They went wide, his head tipping back as she twisted her hips, moving and sliding against him. It took a little fumbling, but they were both good at this, knew how they fit together and Kara was the one who gasped when he finally thrust up and in. "Sam," she said again, voice thready in a way she hated.

His reply wasn't verbal, and Kara moved against him, eyes on his. She didn't say shit like I love you. The closest she ever got was sex.

Memory swamped her as they moved. Caprica, again. Laughing and mocking each other, playing pyramid until they were both bruised and sweaty, then shoving him against a wall, wrapping her legs around his waist and feeling the grit of the wall at her back when he turned them. The heat from the planet on her skin, dancing along her nerves. He'd tasted like dirt and salt.

Fingers on her skin, mouth on her skin, body on her skin--too many memories of Sam Anders and his body. Kara gasped, breaking her train of thought with a violent wrench and bent down, kissing him.

He still tasted like sweat, though not so much with the dirt. Kara ground against him, wondering if she was proving something to him or herself--or maybe both--as she felt his orgasm rip through him. Gods. He'd always been so easy, for her. Of course, the flip side of that was that she was easy for him, and always had been.

His mouth pulled away from hers, and he murmured her name once before returning it.

"I love you." The words were mumbled, caught between lips and teeth and tongues, but she said them anyway. Even knowing what he was, she said them.

He didn't stop kissing her, but she knew he'd heard from the way his breath caught.

Sappy, she accused herself, sinking further down, letting their bodies meet. They were both sweat-soaked, legs tangled and hands tangled and mouths tangled. In a moment, Kara promised herself, she would get up. She would dress and leave the cell, leave him behind on the cot (which they hadn't broken).

In a moment. Really.

Their hands separated, Sam's arms sliding around her as she crossed her arms and propped her chin on them. "You frak really good for a machine," she said lazily.

Sam patted her ass, smirking slightly. "Thanks."

A sigh escaped her, "I'm cold," she complained. But she didn't move.

"This was longer than half an hour," Sam pointed out, one of his arms leaving her back to tug the blanket over her.

"So?" With a yawn, she settled firmly against him. "They need me for anything, they can come find me with my husband."

Because, Cylon or not, he was. The black ink on their arms proved that more than a hundred angsty glances or fifty infidelities. They always came back to each other. And maybe nothing else mattered, in the end.