Time Does Not Change Us (It Just Unfolds Us)

Summary: They call her Metis, the Goddess of wisdom and knowledge. Myka/HG. BSG AU.

Author: Journaliar

Rating: Mature

Word Count:1400

Disclaimer: I don't own anything.

They call her Metis, the Goddess of wisdom and knowledge.

Her call sign is scrawled lovingly along the side of her Viper in flowing cursive she did herself one night because she has the kind of brain that never shuts off. No matter how long she spends patroling, fighting, surving, it never stops. She's smart, way too smart for Vipers. You're pretty sure she should be in an office somewhere, maybe beside the president, using her brain for bigger things but instead she's gliding beside you in the darkness while numbers tick away.

"You alright, Poindexter?" Helena 'Metis' Wells voice cracks in your ears. "You're drifting out of formation."

They call you Poindexter because you like books. It's not even half as poetic as being named after a god but you got it as a nugget and it just stuck. There are worst callsigns than Poindexter, just ask your friend Pete 'Garbage Disposal' Lattimer or the nugget Claudia Donovan who somehow got dubbed Zippy. There are worst things than hearing Helena call you it with her far away accent curling all the letters.

"I'm okay. I'm okay." You swallow, twisting your wrist and repositioning your viper smoothly. You drop your jaw, pop your ears and blink hard while the glowing numbers get smaller and smaller.

"Just stay with me, Myka." She says quietly and you glance at her hovering through space beside you. You press your palm to your canopy and she does the same.

You watch the rest of the fleet jump away before turning and heading back for the landing deck.







You blink heavily as everyone is dismissed from the debrief meeting. Pilots file out around you and you just close your eyes for a moment as they pass. Or at least you intend for it to be only a moment but you find yourself dreaming of your parent's bookstore.


Helena's soft voice snaps you out of sleep and you blink blearily at her where she kneels at your side, her flight suit is unzipped and her ponytail is messy and she's beautiful even in her exhaustion. You tell her so and she takes your hand, presses her mouth to your knuckles before standing and pulling you to your feet.

Her fingers brush against the photograph tacked to the wall by the door on the way out and yours follow suit.



It's too close this time.

Your Viper grinds to a halt and then everything is silent except for your ragged breathing and the gentle crackle of the radio in your ears. You groan as the Galactica jumps around you and you're left swimming in nausea as the deck crew swarms your Viper.

Your canopy pops open, or tries to but it takes three sets of hands to wrestle it open enough for you to crawl out and then you're stumbling against your charred Viper.

"Are you okay?!" Pete demands, suddenly at your side as you pry off your helmet.

"I'm fine." You reassure him, inhaling carefully and straightening slowly. One look at your bent bird and you're pretty sure that you shouldn't be okay, not with one wing missing, but there's no time to even think about it, to thank the Gods that you're alive.

There's only thirty three minutes.

"Is Claudia…?" You trail off, glancing around the deck in search of Claudia. She's standing with another nugget and she looks shaken but no worse for wear and you exhale in relief, slumping against the side of your Viper.

"She's good. You saved her ass, Mykes." He says, leaning over to press his hand against the back of your neck. "You saved her."

You're not surprised when Helena appears in front of you, hands tugging you off of the flight deck and towards the crew quarters.





There are pictures everywhere. Smiling faces lining the walls of the hall. People's families and friends, all lost or gone and your heart stutters as you turn in the corridor. You try not to think too much as you stalk to the nearest open space and press your photo there. Your mom, dad and sister smile back at you as you tack it into place.





"Man, I hate these things."

You watch Pete press the metal container to his lips, shaking the two white pills right into his mouth before swallowing hard.

"They make me feel fraking weird."

"They're supposed to help you stay alive." You yawn, your own stimulants rattling in your closed fist and you watch Pete shrug back on the sleeves of his flight suit as the two of you reach the flight deck where people are buzzing around slowly like the fat, dying flies that you remember from back home but haven't seen in what feels like forever.

"I guess we'll see about that." He laughs and its not funny but you find yours giggling hysterically with him before you press your fist to your mouth and drop the pills directly on your tongue.





There's a standing order for no one to have sex until further notice. Because sex and orgasms make you tired but…

But you're hidden away in Helena's bunk, high on stims that make you feel like you're crawling out of your skin and with a handful of minutes before the two of you are due out on patrol.

Helena's mouth is moving lazily between your thighs, like she has all the time in the world while her hand moves with decidedly more enthusiasm between her own legs.

You mouth "I love you." when she looks up at you and spend the meager time you have left coming against the heat of her mouth.



Another jump and Helena comes stumbling down from her Viper. You're there to catch her, arms tight around her waist while she manages to pry off her helmet fast enough to avoid vomiting inside of it. You both end up on your knees and you rub her back through the suit, the ridges of her spine against your palm.

"Please tell me I've somehow managed to preserve my dignity." She groans, wiping and her mouth and you don't even have to look around to know that no one is paying attention to either of you.



There's been an hour with no Cylons and you're never ever been more tired. You've been asleep in your narrow rack with Helena curled around you for only ten minutes when the call to action stations startles you right out of bed.

You're stepping into your flight suit before you're even fully awake and Helena is doing the same right beside you while your heart pounds in your ears.




"What if its…what if its…" Claudia mutters as you as you stare up at the speakers. She turns to you with wide eyes as you swallow hard. "The-the Olympic its-they're a civilian ship…"

"They've been compromised. There are nuclear weapons on board." Helena murmurs at your other side and you glance at her just as the force of the explosion rocks the deck under your boots.


"You're still awake." Helena murmurs, nudging back the curtain surrounding your bunk as she peels off layers of clothing until she's only in tanks and underwear before climbing into your bunk. "I'd expected to find you comatose."

You sigh quietly as she stretches out beside you and you shut the curtain behind her. "Can't turn my brain off."

She hums in acknowledgment and you don't have to tell her that you're thinking about all those people lost, that you're thinking about your family who is probably lost too. Who are probably dead.

Helena stretches over you, grabbing a small leather-bound book from the narrow shelf over your head before settling against you heavily. "I've been writing a bit."

You smile at that, watching her open her journal. "Is it any good?"

HG rolls her eyes and smiles a little before taking a measured breath. "The thing the Time Traveller held in his hand was a glittering metallic framework, scarcely larger than a small clock, and very delicately made. There was ivory in it, and some transparent crystalline substance. And now I must be explicit, for this that follows-unless his explanation is to be accepted-is an absolutely unaccountable thing…"