Disclaimer: Not mine.
Rating: er... 18+ there be vague sex talk here. and swearing. and violence.
Pairing: Kara Thrace/Sam Anders, Kara/Leoben, Kara/viper Spoilers: Through Rapture.
Warning, may contain: het, fluff, angst, drama, humor, bad language, violence, character death, destruction, sex, sun, sin, divine intervention, girls, boys, arts, pleasure, future speculation, groping, bad food, and/or ripped-off Farscape scenes (also known as homage.
Length: 1,000 ish.
Summary: Kara's Destiny is a difficult one.

Five Ways That Kara Thrace Didn't Die (Sorta)
by ALC Punk!

There was a scraping sound outside the raptor and Kara cursed, even as the pain flared with every movement of her fingers. Gun. Sidearm. Out. The commands were followed, but her arms still shook with the strain.

A head appeared, "Kara?"


It took less time to pull the trigger than to think about it. But dear GODS did it hurt. She pulled it again, even after he staggered back. And then moved, bracing against the hatch to fire again, and then again.

The fifth shot might have been overkill.

The battlefield was as old as the ages. Whether the outcome was pre-supposed or not, Kara was determined to win. Even at all costs. And when the tables turned and she was left drenched in sweat and panting for breath, it was all she could do to glare at the very smug Samuel T. Anders (who was just as sweaty and limp) and demand, "Gods, Sam, are you trying to kill me?"

"Not exactly," he assured her before collapsing next to her with a satisfied sigh.

"You suck."

"And swallow, too," he mumbled, playing with her sweat-soaked hair.

With a sigh of her own, she settled against his side. "Blanket, Sam."

"You're closer."

"I'm not moving," she informed him.

"Then no blanket."

"I'll freeze to death."

"Nah, I'll keep you warm."

"Sweet, Sam, but while you put off heat like a furnace, I still want a blanket."

He chuckled and slowly stretched across her to snag the blanket they'd kicked out of the rack. Kara took the opportunity to wrap her arms around him, trapping him in that position. "Uh, Kara...?"

"You're almost as good as a blanket." She wriggled a little.

His hand groped her breasts. "Thought you were sleepy."

"I am sleepy." Nevertheless, she wriggled again, and made an approving noise when his thumb brushed over her nipple.

Sam abandoned the blanket, and shifted to sprawl fully on her again. "You don't feel sleepy, to me."

"No, but you are," Kara mocked, reaching down between them.

He groaned and dropped his head to her shoulder. "I should have run when I had the chance."

The raider could have been Scar, for all Kara knew. Not that it mattered. She was flying her ass off just to keep it from hitting her.

"Galactica, Starbuck. Where the frak is that backup?" She shouted, diving her viper sideways--a move that was guaranteed to send any rookie into a tailspin. She side-stepped the tailspin and twisted back on her own trail to dodge the raider as it played chicken with her.

"Starbuck, Galactica. ETA: thirty seconds." Dee's voice sounded so frakkin' calm.

Kara cursed again, then flipped her viper over and fired while the raider was still turning on its axis to chase her again. The shots went wild, but they caused the thing to dodge.

Good. She flew straight for it, "Game's over, you stupid motherfrakker--"

The raider jumped.

"GODS DAMNIT." Kara scanned wildly, trying to find it.

"Shit, Starbuck, it's right behind you--"

There was no time to dive, no time to maneuver. Kara heard the targeting lock on and yanked on the ejection release. She shot upwards, clearing the viper two seconds before it exploded, the raider's shot sending debris everywhere. A large chunk smashed into her back and sent her spinning end over end.

Another soundless explosion came from nearby, the light almost blinding her, and Kara hoped that was the raider. She also hoped there was a raptor coming out to pick her ass up. Floating forever would suck.

Ten minutes later, she was trying not to lose her lunch as Racetrack made a beeline back to Galactica, with her crouched on the decking.

The only comfort she had was that the raider had been taken out by Hot Dog. It seemed oddly fitting.

"I'm gonna die." Kara announced in a drained, horrible-sounding tone of voice. It was theatrical and pathetic, but she did it.

Sam, of course, seemed to know she was faking it, although he put a concerned hand on her forehead and frowned thoughtfully, "Aw, baby, I think you're just a little warm."

"I'm sick, Sammy, of course I'm warm." She crankily replied. Getting sick was, as far as Kara was concerned, the worst thing to happen to her. Ever. Even more than that stupid Leoben thing. Getting sick meant staying cooped up in her rack and coughing up her lungs and watching Sam get to go off and play pyramid. Without her.

"Mmm. I'm sure I can think of something to fix it," he offered, leering a little.

She growled, and hrmphed, "I'm sick, Sam. I don't want sex." Which was frakkin' pathetic, given how much she liked sex.

His eyebrows went up, "Who are you, and what have you done with my wife?"


A chuckle escaped him and then he bent over and began taking off his boots.

Kara blinked, "What're you doing?"

He gave her a blank look before kicking his boots off and proceeding to climb over her in the rack, settling behind her, with his back against the wall. They'd learned early on that he couldn't sleep on the other side or she'd trample him when the alarms went off. "Thought it'd be obvious," he said, arms going around her and pulling her back against him.

Another cranky sound escaped Kara, but she snuggled back into him, grateful for the warmth. A pathetic cough escaped her. "Hate bein' sick,"

"I know." Sam kissed the side of her head and tightened his arms. "Could be worse, though."

"Yeah." With a yawn, Kara closed her eyes, eager to fall back to sleep now, "I could be a cylon."

Earth wasn't exactly what Kara had been expecting, but it wasn't all bad.

The people were kind of stupid, though, and Kara had broken more noses since she'd gotten there than during her entire career in the colonial fleet. It was just a good thing her husband was a star athlete and had gotten scouted by several of the Earth sports leagues.

It meant they could do stupid things. Like stand in a crosswalk, kissing as if they were the only two people in the world. Of course, as far as Kara was concerned, they were.

Unfortunately, there was a truck bearing down on them which disagreed.

Kara noticed it and kept kissing Sam. She liked kissing Sam. All the same, she put her hand on her sidearm (they weren't supposed to carry them, but she didn't care). And waited.

Two seconds before the truck would have nailed them, she whipped out the gun and fired into its engine. There was a pop and a sizzle, and the thing stopped.

Sam pulled his lips from hers and looked at it. "Kara, he was putting on his brakes."

"Not fast enough." She informed him, holstering her sidearm and moving on to the other side of the street.

"Kara--damnit." He caught her by the belt-loop and slung his arm around her. "You are so gods-damned difficult."


Behind them, the driver began yelling about paying for damages.

Neither of them listened.