BSG fic: "Eleven Plans" (1/1)

I love plotbunnies. Many thanks to ingridmatthews for this one (though perhaps not quite what she'd expected.)

Title: "Eleven Plans"
Rating: R for language
Timeline: through 2.20; vaguely AU
Characters: Sam, Kara, Gaeta
Summary: "Eight weeks into the plan, and time's running out. He doesn't want to think about failure."

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Eleven Plans
by wisteria

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Sam likes building things, smashing shit up with a hammer, pounding nails into a mismatched collection of sticks. There's something almost trancelike about just standing there in the chill. Repetitive motion, nothing else to focus on but the work. Doing what his body was designed to do. Not that he's a deep thinker or anything – that's everyone else's job – but yeah. There it is.

Today's job is to reinforce some scaffolding for the new clinic. He positions the nails and counts each metal-on-metal slam. When he reaches eleven, he always stops and smirks.

It's a hell of a life. Nothing to do but work, eat, sleep, frak. He kind of likes it. Too bad it's all temporary.


+++++


"Shit, here comes the Fuzz."

Sam laughs at the typical bitchiness in his coworker's voice. "If the bureaucrats didn't show up and give you idiots a kick in the ass, you'd never get anything done."

The other guys prove his point by suddenly perking up and working hard, like a little robot army. Yup, idiots through and through. Sam drops his hammer and walks over to Felix Gaeta. "I'd say it's good to see you here again, but I'd be lying."

Gaeta rolls his eyes; they've got the whole routine down pat. "Why do they keep calling me 'Fuzz', anyway?"

"I told 'em what you looked like last time you tried to grow a beard."

"God, you're an asshole."

"What – you didn't know that already?" He shrugs. "I don't know what the hell they're talking about half the time. Probably better off that way."

They stand there for a few minutes, ignoring the get-back-to-work glare the foreman shoots in their direction. Doesn't make any difference, anyway; the President's assistant can talk to whomever he damn well pleases.

Gaeta follows him over to the water break area, where things are quieter. "Midnight, usual location. Come alone." He skulks away, leaving Sam laughing in his wake. Bastard loved playing spy games. As if Sam would even think about bringing someone else along. He knew better than that.


+++++


Kara's great. Best damn wife he could've asked for – not that he'd demanded her or anything. Her decision, of course. If she were the sentimental type, she'd call it "destiny" or some crap like that. Yeah, there was destiny involved, just not in the way she thought.

They spend the evening on the makeshift pyramid court. Half-drunk pickup games with the guys, then just telling the same old stories they've told a hundred times before. She laughs and kicks ass and charms the hell out of everyone, just like she always does. He likes watching her like this; even without the mitigating factors, he probably would've chosen her anyway.

A little before midnight, they stumble home. She collapses on the bed while he keeps busy straightening up the tent, so she won't notice that he's not planning to sleep anytime soon.

As she drifts off to sleep, she mutters, "Love you, Sam."

He tells her the same. Most of the time, he means it.


+++++


He likes watching the colony put itself to sleep. The tents cast interesting shadows in the moons' light, like a peaked shooting gallery.

Four's waiting for him in the reeds by the river, his usual clipboard in hand. "They want you to start now," he says by way of greeting.

Eleven nods. "She just said she loves me. Shouldn't be a problem."

"Good."


+++++


A few days later, Four brings him the first set of supplies, sealed in a brown envelope marked "blueprints". When the foreman isn't looking, Eleven rolls it up and shoves it in the back of his waistband. Even if the others had noticed, they wouldn't have said anything. The humans have perfected the art of selective memory.

He gets home before Kara does. Sets the kettle on the flame and waits for it to boil as he carefully measures the crumbled leaves. Too much could knock her into a coma. Too little would screw up the plans for another month. They don't have enough time to take chances.

"Hey, Sam," she calls out behind him, and he turns to see her grinning. Excellent. Get her in a good mood, and anything's possible. This might even turn out to be fun.

She bounds over to him. "Gods, that smells incredible. Where the frak did you get it?"

"Found it in the market this morning." He pours two cups, grateful that it looks like regular tea. He winks and says, "The woman who sold it to me said it's an herbal aphrodisiac."

Kara takes a sip and moans. "Yup. I'm tempted to have sex with this tea."

He finishes off his own in record time, concentrating hard as the warmth spreads through his body. As he watches her drink, he catalogues the effects. With him, the tea just creates a great little buzz. She's the one he's really concerned about.

And when she tackles him onto the bed, yanking at their clothes, he knows it's working. He kisses her long and hard, then gets to work.


+++++


Those years playing pyramid were the best damn cover the Elders could've come up with. When he slips and says something "off", the humans laugh and chalk it up to celebrity eccentricity. Everyone wants to talk to him, and he plays the notoriety like a game. They all know Gaeta's the worst famewhore of them all, so it's no big deal for them to be seen knocking back drinks next to the pyramid court one night.

"How's the tea?"

Sam laughs. "You'd think it was frakkin' top-shelf ambrosia, the way she drinks it."

"It goes great with honey and rice." Off his incredulous look, Four just blinks and mutters, "What? It does."

They sit there and get progressively drunker. Four gives him the latest news before turning the conversation back to the main topic. "Is everything going according to plan?"

He shrugs. "We've had sex nine times in the past two weeks. Judging from her moodiness, though, I think she's about to cycle."

"Shit."

"Yeah. So much for the medication, huh? I'll give it another month and see what happens."

"Three months, and then we shift to the alternate plan." Four's voice is darker now, reminding Sam that he can be a ruthless bastard when he wants to be.

"What about the backup?"

"Success." Except Four shakes his head. "But you know how unreliable Ten is under the best conditions, much less as a sleeper agent. Nobody's going to breathe easily until that child is born."

Sam finishes off the bottle and tosses it aside. "I know Kara. She's not going to want kids."

A long pause, then Four stands up. "Make her want them."

Something like fear sparks in his gut as he watches Gaeta walk away.


+++++


Kara keens, shudders, and collapses onto him. He breathes her in, wraps his arms around her sweaty back. When she tries to pull away, he holds her closer. Wants to press his hand between her legs and seal himself inside. Eight weeks into the plan, and time's running out. He doesn't want to think about failure.

She kisses his shoulder and smiles. "Good thing I picked a husband who can keep me satisfied, huh?"

"Now I get it – you only love me for my dick."

"Oh, please. Your hands and tongue are awful nice, too."

They laugh a little, like usual. He wishes he could just relax and enjoy all the sex he's been getting these days, but each time makes him more and more nervous. He hates being nervous. He hates uncertainty and failure and all that crap. He wants this to work. She'll hate this, but the alternative is worse.

So he pushes back her hair and smirks. "Our kids are going to be gorgeous."

She freezes. "Sam, you know I don't want kids. You know that."

He can feel the anger coiling in the muscles of her back. "C'mon, it'd be great. We'd be great. Can't you just see us raising a whole damn pyramid team?"

That gets her out of the bed, and she just stands there, damn near shaking. "No."

"Kara, I want –"

"NO!" She yanks on her clothes and stalks out of the tent.

Frak.


+++++


"We're very disappointed in you, Eleven."

Sam whips around to see Four standing there, hands in pockets, eyes narrowed to slits. He tosses his tools to the ground and scans the perimeter, checking that nobody is close enough to hear, then growls, "She's on birth control. She doesn't want kids. I can't get a woman pregnant who doesn't want to be."

"That's your problem, not ours."

"What the hell do you want me to do? Go find me some other woman who wants kids. Hell, why don't you go get one knocked up, you bastard?"

Four doesn't move a muscle, and that calm face reminds Sam that they're all just robots, after all. He drones, "Kara Thrace is the key component of our plan. You've known that since the beginning, Eleven."

"She's a woman, not a goddamned component!"

"Do your job."

Sam can actually feel something snap inside him, and when he slams his fist into Four's face, that same snap reverberates through him. Doesn't make him feel any better, though.

Four wipes his bloody nose, nods, and walks away.

Sam swallows the urge to scream, then he goes back to work.


+++++


Eventually, Kara forgives him. She never says so, but she stops flinching when he touches her. Soon, they're back to frakking, making love, whatever. And soon she's smiling at him again, telling him she loves him over their morning tea, during lunch breaks, when they play pyramid after work.

As long as he doesn't mention children, everything's fine.

But the weeks wear on, and her monthly cycle comes like clockwork. But then, they're all just machines in the end, him more than others. He tries not to dread her period, and sometimes he even prays to God to make her pregnant anyway, no matter what she thinks. She'd hate the child, but the alternative would break her.

At night, he wraps himself around her and listens to her breathe. In and out, like nothing's wrong. Like they're a normal couple. He just stares at the shadows behind the tent walls, one hand curled around her belly, the other on his gun in case they come to take her away.


+++++


END (1/1)