Disclaimer: Not mine.
Fandoms: Battlestar Galactica, Bones, Angel: the Series, Torchwood, Stargate: Atlantis, Fantastic Four (movieverse).
Spoilers: BSG - season three, season four spec; Bones - none?; Angel - none?; Torchwood - none?; SG:A - season four casting, with certain modifications; FF - none.
Pairing: Kara Thrace/Sam Anders.
Genre: humor, action, angst, gen
Rating: Mostly PG, with some language and a little violence.
Length: 4400+
Notes: This was written over several weeks, from a framework of Character, Setting, List of Five people, List of five prompts. This netted me: Kara; Five Punches; Booth, Faith, Gwen, Sam and John; falling, gun, crush, forever and flying. Faith - gun changed into Gunn - faith, for some reason, and I'm hoping I did good by him (I even watched some season two stuff to make sure I wasn't remembering him entirely wrong). And Sam - forever was inspired by Cujoy and Prolix_allie (and sorta peripherally has a punch, oops).

Five Punches Kara Thrace Doesn't Regret
by ALC Punk!

1. Booth - Falling

"Let me go!"

It was supposed to be a routine murder scene--one which was cordoned off and guarded by the local police. But somehow, that hadn't been enough. Seeley Booth glared at the blonde young woman who'd just wandered in, possibly tracking all over his shiny new crime scene and ruining evidence.

Zack Addy was holding her, looking a little stunned. Like he wasn't exactly sure he knew what to do next--Booth figured maybe he didn't. Not that he liked mocking the guy, but Seeley wasn't sure Zack really knew what to do with a woman. Though he had to give the squint a good mark for the joint lock he had on the woman. She was definitely not getting free, despite fighting him.

"I said let me go, you frakker!"

"Frak is not a true pejorative," said Zack, his tone analytical and scolding. "And if you didn't move, I wouldn't be injuring you. This puts pressure on your--"

The impending lecture made Booth interrupt, clapping his hands, "OK. Now we've had our moment, why don't you tell me who you are and how you got onto my crime scene."

"Starbuck," the woman snapped. She stopped struggling to give Booth a decidedly evil glare, "Are you going to make your butt monkey let me go, or does this get you off?"

"He's not--" started Booth.

"I'm not--" started Zack.

"Whatever. Can't you just let me go?"

"Anyway," Zack continued, as though she hadn't interrupted him, "Your name can't be Starbuck. Starbuck is a fighter pilot from Battlestar Galactica. As such--"

"No, really?" Sneering, Starbuck twisted and managed to wrench herself free of him.

"Tell us your real name, and what you're doing here," Booth suggested, getting ready to pull his gun out.

"Kara Thrace. And who the frak are you?" she challenged, looking as though she might try knocking the gun from his hand if he pulled it out and threatened her with it.

Narrowing his eyes, he answered, "Special agent Seeley Booth. And you're contaminating my crime scene. Why?"

For a split second, uncertainty flashed through her eyes, then she shrugged carelessly. "No idea. One minute, flying, next minute, poof, standing here with idiot-boy trying to pull my arm from my frakking shoulder."

"Doctor Addy." said Zack, sounding pedantic as always.

"Excuse me?" She turned to glare at him.

"My name is Doctor Addy," Zack said, definitely looking insulted. He rubbed his jaw, and Booth wondered if Ms. Thrace had gotten in a hit or two before he'd gotten her arm in a lock.

"How nice. Now we know everyone's names. Can I go now?"

"No, I don't think so. See, you're not supposed to be here." Booth smiled cheerfully at her, "Dr. Addy, why don't you take our guest to Colonel Mann and have the colonel take her statement and particulars. Maybe run her through the database, too."

Looking mollified at being given such an important task, Zack nodded, "That, I can do. And maybe the captain will be able to ascertain what this woman's true identity is."

"What the frak?" Thrace took one step away, then stopped at Booth's raised gun. "Frak. Fine. Take me to your frakkin' leader. I just hope she doesn't have a stick up her ass. Unlike some I could mention," she muttered.

That problem solved for the moment, Booth turned back to his crime scene. Ms. Thrace continued complaining until she was out of ear-shot.

Five minutes later, Zack was back, his eye starting to swell, "Agent Booth. I regret to report that the young woman escaped my custody."

"What happened?"

Looking uncomfortable, Zack mumbled, "She punched me."

"And you have a glass jaw."

Zack shrugged, "It's made of bone, much like yours, but the level of--"

Waving a hand, Booth sighed, "It's a figure of speech, Zack. Did you get anything else from her?"

"Only that she was very insistent about being Kara Thrace. Which, as I said, is highly improbable."

Booth started to ask why, then stopped. "I don't think I want to know why. Once we're done here, we'll get her description circulated, see if we can find her again."

They never did find Kara Thrace, plus the latent fingerprints lifted from Zack's arm and hand got them nothing. Booth got distracted by the case at hand and eventually forgot about her. Zack never mentioned her again, but he did take to watching the re-imaging of Battlestar Galactica in the lab, and occasionally muttering about impersonators.

2. Faith - Gun

Afterwards, Starbuck swore the brawl was totally not her fault. Charles Gunn could have corroborated, noting that she told the truth as she knew it (sometimes, the truth was overrated), but he had better things to do with his time.

Besides, no one would have believed him, either. There was also the fact he didn't see a point in making himself a target. The vampires among the colonials were kill-happy enough as it was, without painting a giant red circle on his back. It would only take one claiming he was a Cylon and he'd be dead in the water (or shoved out an airlock).

The colonials, of course, didn't believe in vampires. They believed in computers, Cylons and their gods.

But vampires? Hello, no.

Gunn figured it wasn't their fault they were so short-sighted. Wasn't like they had his experience to reverse their beliefs. He also figured him getting stuck with the colonials was the Powers That Be's version of fucking Hotel California--he could leave Earth anytime he liked, but the vampires would always follow.

It had started with him bumping into Starbuck outside the bar. He hadn't meant to, but she was already half-trashed, laughing over her shoulder at something the vampire standing behind her had said. Charles almost let her go: random civilians being picked up and sucked dry wasn't the worst thing that could happen. 'Course, it meant he might turn her.

But he saw the chain of her dog tags, and thought he remembered her from the broadcast everyone'd seen a few weeks before. Civilians weren't exactly a commodity to be bought, sold and killed for food, but members of the fleet supposedly kept his ass safe from the Cylons. Made them a little more useful than your average idiot who'd fall out an airlock all on his own, much less with the help of a vampire.

He'd learned early on that trying to save everyone was impossible. So he limited himself to the people who would be useful. It was a war of attrition that didn't always work out so well, but he was coping. Wasn't like he could move everywhere in the fleet, anyway. Luckily, the vampires seemed to like the Cloud Nine crowd a lot more--something about them being easy pickings. There were rumors that the black market ship was also a favorite.

Luckily, the vampires were as limited to where they could travel as he was, plus, if they ate their food source too fast, it'd be all over for 'em.

Cynical, but amusing in its way.

Starbuck shoved herself away from him, mocking him for getting in her way, her words not as slurred as he'd expected. With an eye to getting the vampire dead, he considered the situation and wondered if he could get her back into the bar.

"You deaf?" she demanded, not shoving again, though the sudden anger in her eyes told him she wanted to.

"Nah. Just wondering how it's my fault when you're the one who's drunk." When in doubt, be an ass. It had always seemed to work for Angel.

"This guy botherin' you, hot stuff?" The vampire asked, almost leaning over the chick.

Her eyes darkened, but not with passion. Now she was pissed at both of them. "Oh, frak you. Frak you both," she said, turning and shoving the vampire back. He was shocked enough to allow it, hitting one of the tables.

Several things happened at once, then. The most significant, the one that imprinted itself on Gunn's brain, was Starbuck throwing a punch at the vampire, who dodged. He moved too fast for it to connect, and she ended up hitting the woman behind him. The woman cursed, her words low and rough and then she punched back.

Not that Gunn cared about what started the melee. Because it was the perfect cover. As people got into it, some shouting encouragement, some just shouting violence, Gunn slipped closer to the vampire, who'd eeled backwards out of the crowd and shoved a wooden stake through his heart.

Some vampires would've been in there, living it up and loving the give and take of the fight. Being able to bust out and nearly kill people would've been almost enough for them to get their rocks off. Gunn just happened to luck into one that was a bit more fastidious, and preferred to do his fighting when his victim wasn't going to get a punch back.

Gunn didn't bother waiting around to see how the fight ended. He had more interesting things to do, like find out if that rumor about Cordelia Chase being on a nearby ship was true.

But he could have stuck around and put in a good word for Starbuck to keep her from hack. Not that she really cared whether he did or not, either.

3. Gwen - Crush

When Gwen Cooper ends up on the big G, Kara Thrace just chalks her down as another civvie cop with no potential. The girl's got big eyes and a manner that says she's not quite where she's supposed to be, but that accounts for most of the civilians still living in Dogtown. Nothing about her warns Kara that she's not going to just lie back and take it.

The woman insists on trying to help out, claiming she can't stand her hands being idle. And maybe there's something a little lonely in her eyes, as she occasionally watches the shadows--like she's just missed seeing a ghost.

After assigning her as an apprentice to Tyrol's deck gang, Helo doesn't give her much thought. He hears no complaints from the Chief, and besides, there's nearly three thousand others to assign and displace.

Two months later, the call goes out for more pilots, and Gwen Cooper tests with the rest of them, surprising at least three people with her competency and willingness to throw her life into danger. Her eyes have stopped darting, Kara notices, as she interviews her.

As Gwen says when she hears she passed, she can't bloody believe it herself.

Kara expects her to wash out, to not be able to get the hang of flying--after all, cop to deckhand to pilot is a bit much from anyone (even if Seelix managed two out of three with a side trip to resistance member and guerrilla fighter). But after two days, Kara's surprised to discover that Cooper might have the chops to be a pilot, after all. She's got an attention to detail that rivals Lee's--Kara figures she needs to see her actually fly, but she pegs her as not a flashy, seat-of-her-pants type. More a steady, careful pilot. She's good raptor fodder, though Kara's tempted to slate her as a viper pilot just to see her wash out.

After the first few times in the Chair, Kara figures out Cooper's spatial sense is actually pretty damn developed. If she can get the stolidness knocked out of her, maybe she will make a good viper jock.

Even Kara had to start somewhere.

So Kara rides her, like she rides everyone else. Poking and prodding her, trying to find out what makes her tick and what makes her flinch--with Kat, it had been the fear of namelessness, of being forgotten. Others had shared that fear, and Hot Dog had a fear of the color orange that sometimes made Kara laugh when she was drunk. Kara gets under all of the rookies' skin over the course of a week, catching more than one punch that leaves the trainees apologetic and shocked.

When Cooper snaps, Kara lets her have the first punch.

The hit's a good one, snapping Kara's head back, and Cooper looks incredibly horrified. Her fingers flex, like she can't quite feel them yet. The ringing in Kara's ears says that once she does, she'll definitely be regretting how hard she swung.

"You miss a lot of people, Coop?" Kara mocks, licking the edge of her mouth to test for broken skin. She tastes salt, and winces a little. None of the others managed to break skin, and a split lip will be harder to explain away than random bruises.

"I'm sorry," Cooper says, her accent thicker than normal. She's upset, which Kara supposes is OK. And she's angry, the tension still in her shoulders and back. "I--"

"Don't be sorry," snaps Kara, "Be angry. Because when you're out in the black, that anger may be the only thing keeping you alive."

"Maybe." A wince escapes Cooper and she rubs her knuckles gently, "You've got a bloody hard head, sir."

"I'm a pilot. We all do."

Kara leaves her there, intent on the head for a little clean-up. It'd be good to stop the bleeding before the CAG noticed. He might get a little pissed if he figures out she's pushing his new trainees. But then again, maybe he'd think she was getting her just desserts.

4. Sam - Forever

"I hate it when he calls me baby."

Sam Carter looked up from the medical report Dr. Keller had dropped on her desk, and raised her eyebrows at the woman who'd stomped into her office.

Even at something approaching seventy, Kara Thrace was still as flighty as a teenager, her hands liable to clench into fists at the least provocation. She had far more humor now (according to those civilian reports Sam had waded through the week before when the small fleet of aging ships had arrived on the edge of the solar system). Keller wasn't entirely sure how old the last surviving members of a splinter of the colonial fleet actually were, but they'd all been sterile far before age had removed their ability to reproduce.

It must have been a lonely existence. Sam closed the report and set it down, "I'm sorry, what can I help you with, Commander Thrace?"

Dropping into the chair on the other side of the desk, Thrace let out a sigh and seemed to slump a little. "Just a little domestic dispute, Colonel." She thumped her fist on the desk, making the small set of balance balls rattle a little. "It's just. We've been married for what feels like forever, and he still calls me 'baby'! Like I'm eighteen, and not--however old I am now."

The hundred or so people weren't all that sure how old they were either, sadly. Years of subsisting on very little and having bad record-keeping skills had reduced the population as much as the age and lack of food had.

"Who, Commander?" Sam was determined to be polite to the old woman. Despite the fact that sometimes, she wanted to shake her and tell her that destiny was pointless and useless and you only had yourself to rely on, she understood that these people had been following an ancient set of rules ingrained upon them.

Thrace slumped even further, then grumbled, "Sam does."

Wishing, as she always did, that her name weren't quite so common (even in galaxies that had only vaguely heard of Earth), Sam Carter carefully folded her hands. "And how long have you been married, Commander?"

Damn. She was becoming a marriage counselor on top of everything else. The IOA needed to send her an assistant. Preferably Liz Weir, once she was done with that negotiation in the middle east they'd needed her so desperately for. Or maybe they could just give Liz her job back, and Sam could retire to shooting things a lot.

She missed shooting things a lot.

"Long time." Kara sighed, picking at the lint on her sweater-sleeve. "Since New Caprica, and that feels like several lifetimes ago."

"And has he always called you--?"


"Then why are you annoyed now?"

Thrace thumped her fist on the desk again, then looked a little guilty at having caused Sam's mug of tea to jump, "Because I am."

Obviously, Sam sucked as a marriage counselor. She dispensed with that line, and shrugged, "And what do you want me to do about it, order him to stop calling you 'baby'?"

"It wouldn't work. I've tried." Waving her fingers, Kara shrugged, "No, I'm just stuck with him being an ass."

"Thought you liked my ass, baby."

It needed only this. Sam tried not to hit her head on the desk and tell them to go the frak (their word, and exceedingly useful) away. She looked up at the doorway, where Sam Anders was leaning, looking very nonchalant.

He was as tall as Ronon, even if the years had put a slight stoop in his posture, and according to Keller, still very fit, save for his lungs. "Mr. Anders." Sam nodded at him, then looked at Kara, "Could you please stop annoying your wife?"

His eyebrows shot up, and he gave his wife a look that she returned.

Sam wanted to dump cold water over both of them, and rather hoped that when she was their age, she'd still want sex that damned much. But, damn, they needed to get a room. The only pair who were worse were the Agathons, and they were more cuddly than constant sex. Part of that might have been their undertone of bitterness at the loss of their daughter, who'd been with the other half of the fleet when the halves had lost each other.

"Commander Thrace," Carter said, clearing her throat, "If you're done with our discussion, I have paperwork to finish sorting."

"Ugh. I've always hated that shit," opined Thrace as she stood and then grinned, "Glad I'm not the one doing it anymore." She turned and sashayed towards her husband. "Hey, honey."

"Hey, baby," he murmured, like it was rote more than anything else.

Since Thrace didn't immediately turn and look irritated, Sam figured it was something they'd been doing forever. Or maybe she'd forgotten to be annoyed. It didn't matter, Sam was just grateful that they disappeared so she could get back to her reports, and her appalling lack of a sex life. Obviously, it was time to remedy that, and soon, if she wanted to end up old, cranky, and adorable at eighty.

5. John - Flying

"How the frak does that even work?" Kara shouted up at the man flying (almost hovering, as he looked down at her) above her head, enveloped in flames.

The guy bounced a little, then descended and landed, the flames extinguishing with a flourish. Of all the things Kara Thrace had seen since arriving on Earth, this took the cake. He grinned at her and sauntered towards her with what Kara recognized as pilot-level arrogance. She considered what she could do to him with her viper, and smirked back.

"Well, babe, I could explain all the science, but those are the boring details." He told her, his grin flirtatious. "How 'bout I just show you how hot I am?"

Kara felt her amused smirk stretch. Sounded like he thought she needed impressing. Obviously, he didn't know who he was dealing with. "Honey, I don't think you could keep up with me."

"Well, babe," he began his second attempt to flirt with her. "I'm Johhny Storm. I think I can keep up with anything you can."

It was the second time he'd called her 'babe'. Kara blamed Sam Anders for the fact that she didn't feed Johnny his balls, immediately. She'd have to get him for that. "I'm pretty sure you can't," Kara told Johnny, patting his shoulder, "But thanks for playing."

"'S cool, babe" Johnny said with a shrug, "You can't handle the heat. I get it."

Kara hooted with laughter, finally getting the breath to contradict him after a minute, while Johhny-boy stared at her like she was frakked in the head. "Oh, I can handle the heat, I just don't see a reason to."

"Oh, burn, pipsqueak," said a much larger man, his tone mocking. He'd been watching their exchange with vague interest.

"Burn. That's cute, Grimm. You think that up yourself, or you have some help?"

"Johnny-boy, I don't need no help zingin' you."

Kara got bored and started to tune them out, wondering if she'd get yelled at for wandering off again. She almost jumped when arms slid around her from behind, and Sam murmured into her ear, "Wondered where you'd gone."

Given that any other man would have ended up in serious pain trying a stunt like that, Kara tilted her head and grinned up at him, "I'm thinking of leaving you, Sammy."

"Yeah? For who, Hot Dog?"

"Nah. For Johnny Storm, here."

"Him?" Sam asked, his tone disbelieving while his eyes danced with amusement. "He's not too scrawny for you?"

"Hey!" called Johnny, sounding insulted.

"C'mon, Sam, he can light his ass on fire."

"Anyone with a lighter and a death wish can do that," Sam objected.

"But can they fly?"

"Don't know about anyone else, but I'd definitely take off if you lit my ass on fire."

Kara reached around and patted his butt. "You're too cute to die young, Sam."

"Not to mention, Barolay would never let me live it down," Sam added.

"Y'know, babe, you could ditch the old guy. I'd even help you let him down nice and easy," called Johnny, apparently deciding it was worth it to try to pursue her.

"Old?" Kara raised an eyebrow at Johnny.

"Yeah, old. He's gotta be older'n Richards, I'm surprised there's no grey in his hair. D'you dye it, man?"

Kara growled, although internally she was laughing a little, too. Most men caught the hint when Sam wrapped himself around her. Apparently, this kid wasn't smart enough. Still, he'd called her babe four times, and insulted Sam. Not that she didn't insult Sam, but she was the only one allowed to do that (well, and Barolay, really). Sam's grip on her tightened and she glared at him. "Sam."

"No international incidents, Kara. We promised." He was laughing, though.

"Let me go, Sam. I'm not going to cause an incident."

Sam shook his head, still grinning, "I know you, Kara."

"Why don't you let the lady go, since she asked so nice?" Johnny suggested, moving close enough to try to loom at Sam. Since he was four inches shorter, it didn't do him much good.

"Not a good idea."

"How 'bout I be the judge?"

Grimm, meanwhile, having sized things up, had been making a few quiet bets on the side with the crowd that had gathered to gawk at Johnny Storm and the girl he was flirting with. The day was lookin' up.

"Lemme go, Sam." Kara muttered.

"All right," eyes laughing, Sam released Kara and stepped back. "But it's your own fault, man."

Kara surged forward, her fist smashing into Johnny's nose. It was a beautiful hit, snapping his head back and throwing him off-balance enough that he fell backwards, landing on the sidewalk with a surprised grunt. Shaking out her tingling fingers, Kara said cheerfully, "Don't call me 'baby', dumbass."

"Didn't know you were such a touchy broad," Johnny muttered, staring up at her as he touched his lip and winced.

"You want me to hit you some more?"

"No." Glaring, but not getting up yet, Johnny made certain he was not within range of Kara's fists. Or her feet.


Grimm was smug as he cleaned up on his bets, getting quite a bit of cash from the people who'd made the mistake of betting on Johnny. He glanced at Kara, and called, "Thanks, girly."

"Hey. I punched the boy wonder," Kara called, objecting to being called 'girly', but letting it slide for the moment. "Fifty percent."

"Twenty," he countered, figuring maybe she was sort of right.



"My fingers are still a little numb. Forty." Kara crossed her arms and glared.

Grimm considered, looking from her, to Mr. Wounded Pride. He grinned. It wasn't often he saw a chick so obviously uninterested in Mr. Flashy Pants. He shrugged, "Forty, then." It wasn't like he'd expected this little windfall, anyway.

While Kara went to collect her part of the money, Sam shook his head and chuckled. He moved and held out a hand to Johnny, figuring the kid could probably use a little help.

The kid eyed him, then took the offer and let Sam pull him up. He glared over at Kara and Ben, "I just got played."

"You shouldn't have called her babe." Kara hated being called babe, baby, honey... Sam could make a list of the things she didn't like to be called. He was only allowed to because she sort of liked him (loved was probably more accurate, but Sam was never going to let himself be certain of anything).

"Women," Johnny said, his tone derogatory. He rolled his eyes, "Can't live with 'em, can't live without their--"

"I can always let her hit you again," Sam interrupted, his tone mild.

Johnny blinked at him, then started moving away as Kara looked over at them. "Nah, man. It's cool. Right?" he asked Kara, "It's cool?"

"Whatever," was Kara's reply. She waved her fistful of cash at Sam, "Wanna go get drunk and annoy the old man by having public sex, honey?"

Sam laughed, shaking his head as he reached over and caught Kara's hand. "Yeah, sure, baby. Whatever you say."