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15 February 2007 @ 11:55 am
FIC: The Sides of the Triangle (BSG, the Gen version)  
NOW available in new VANILLA flavor!

Title: The Sides of the Triangle
Characters: Helo, Cylons
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 5200
Beta: I want to thank Mr. Spellchecker, my best buddy, and emergency beta. Feel free to point out any stupidity I missed.
Spoilers: Rapture. Set in 3.5, but in some AU one step to the left in which Helo still flies Raptors. oops. my bad. *g*

Summary: Captured, Helo discovers the face of one of the Final Five and that he's not as alone as he thought.

A/N: The slashy crunchy, chocolatey decadent porn version is available HERE. There are differences between the two versions, besides the removal of porn. This one is NOT, in other words, just 'edited for television'.



Consciousness returned all at once, alarm speeding through Karl like a Viper at full.

He'd been on long-range CAP, and an entire squad of Raiders had jumped practically on top of him. He had no idea whether his message had gone out or they'd jammed it. The last thing he remembered were the Cylon Raider tracers heading right for him -- He shouldn't be alive

He sat up, eyes snapping open.

What the frak?

He saw gray metal walls, harsh white light in the ceiling and pulsing red and blue lights in stripes along the walls. The room itself was large, ten meters on a side, and mostly empty. The air seemed warmer than Galactica, and it was humid enough his forehead was sweating. And there was no comforting vibration of the drive engines or the whirr of the air circulation system; instead the primary noise seemed to be an odd low thumping sound.

There was also one doorway, which opened into a corridor that looked much the same.

He pushed aside the silky cream-colored sheets of the large bed he was sitting on, and his eyes flared wide, realizing he was naked.

Apprehension replaced confusion as a heavy weight in his gut.

This wasn't Galactica. This place wasn't human, at all. Only the bed and the small wooden table and chairs on the other side of the room looked human -- and completely incongruous.

Everything else was strange and sterile, but fit for a race who could make their surroundings appear to be wherever they wished...

He swallowed hard. This was bad.

He wasn't sure if it was a good thing that he didn't know if Galactica knew the Cylons had found him or not. He didn't want them to think he'd just vanished, and never know -- but nor did he want Sharon to get in her head to try to come find him.

Gods, please don't let Sharon do anything stupid, he prayed, hoping that the Lords of Kobol could hear him from the inside of a Cylon Basestar. Let her stay with Hera. I'll find my own way out.

Wrapping the sheet around his waist, he decided to try to find his way out. He wasn't in a cell and he should take advantage of it. Maybe they didn't know he was awake yet. If he could find the hangar and maybe a Raptor, just like the one Sharon and Caprica had stolen, he could get away...

The metallic grinding sound of servos silenced that train of thought, before two Centurions moved into view and planted themselves in the doorway.

So perhaps he was in a cell after all.

He glanced up at the sensor eyes of the Centurions, fingers twitching with the need for a gun. But of course he didn't have one. He had nothing. The only possible weapon he could see was to break off a table leg, and a Centurion would probably not even notice getting hit by that.

He backed off a few steps. The Centurions stayed where they were, blocking the way out.

Then he stopped, licked his lips and decided to do something crazy. All of the machines in the Cylon fleet were part biological: base ship, resurrection ship, Raiders, and Centurions. They were not the empty metal and wire machines they looked like, not entirely.

He raised his chin to address the Centurions. "I need the head." In case that bit of military slang wasn't part of their programming he clarified, "A place to relieve my bladder. Can you show me where that is?"

Sharon had to eat and do all the other messy things that came with being alive. Not as often as a human would, but it was still necessary. So then all the rest of the human-form Cylons did too. If the Centurion could bring him to the Cylon version of the head, at least he could see more of the ship and start to get an idea of the layout.

But the Centurions might as well have been statues.

"C'mon," Karl said, feeling totally insane for talking to a Chrome-job, as if it would talk back, but at least he was doing something and that made him feel slightly better. However, he was not crazy enough to go closer in case they misinterpreted what he was doing. "I'm sure you don't have the need, but I know there has to be a place. Just show me where it is. I don't want to piss all over the floor."

The left-hand Centurion lifted its right hand with its skeletal metal fingers, pointing at Karl. He stepped back, heart leaping in his chest, knowing how quickly the 'hand' could change into a weapon.

But the Centurion did nothing, just kept its hand out and Karl realized it was pointing. He turned his head and a soft hiss preceded a drawer sliding out of the wall.

He cautiously went to check it out, looking back over his shoulder at the Centurions nervously, a little creeped out. Had it actually answered him? Had the ship itself responded?

It was a toilet or maybe a sink, but it was filled with swirling water, and feeling extremely self-conscious he turned his back on the Centurions to relieve himself.

He was tucking the sheet around himself again when a voice broke the silence. "I thank you for addressing them directly."

Thinking that one of the Centurions was speaking, Karl whirled around to see one of the humanoid Cylons standing between the Centurions. It was the male one the Fleet knew as Leoben Conoy.

He was wearing brown pants and a short sleeved, button-front shirt in a pale salmon color that looked particular noxious in the bright lights and bold colors around them. It seemed to have a tiny print of multi-colored animals on it. Karl was no fashion expert, but he was pretty sure a shirt that bad must have been looted out of a Caprican thrift store.

Leoben patted the forearms of the Centurions and moved into the room. "You're the first human to ever speak to a Centurion as if it were alive. Which they are, of course, though they aren't people in the same way as you or I."

"You are not like me," Karl retorted, gritting his teeth. He knew that Kara had spent four months getting her mind frakked by one of these Leobens, perhaps this very one, and he wasn't going to start down the path of agreeing that they had anything in common.

Leoben lifted his brows and smiled, amused, "No? Well, perhaps not exactly like you. But close enough."

Karl curled his lip. "Karl C. Agathon. Captain. 1544930."

Leoben burst into laughter. "Oh, you are too much, Helo. Do you think I'm here to torture you for information?"

"I don't know what you're here for and I really don't give a frak," Karl answered back. "You're my enemy, and you get nothing from me."

Leoben shook his head, still chuckling, and he made a slow, wide circle around Karl, around to the other side of the bed. "I'm not your enemy."

It was Karl's turn to laugh at him. "Your kind blows away billions of humans and one of your model spent months mentally frakking over a friend of mine until she barely knows who she is. And I'm here, as your prisoner. What would you call it?"

Leoben hesitated and let out a short breath of irritation. "We're not all the same. After all this time with your Sharon, do you really not understand that? Or did you think you got that lucky that the one Cylon capable of individuality just happened to find you? No, Karl, you were not that lucky. You were foreseen."

Karl snorted skeptically, but inside, something quivered. Because no, he didn't believe Sharon was unique. Rare, certainly, but he was sure that her ability to turn away from her people had to be shared by the rest of them, if they had the opportunity and desire. That was why he had stopped the virus. But foreseen? As in prophecy? "That's ridiculous."

"No. It's the truth. Your part in the pattern was seen some years ago. It is why you were on Caprica, why you met Sharon, and why you're here now."

"Right. So everything was a plan." Karl sneered. "Foreseen by you, I presume?"

But Leoben shook his head, surprising Karl a little. "Not me. I see more than the others, but I'm only the messenger."

Karl frowned at that. "Messenger?"

But Leoben didn't clarify, leaving Karl to wonder what he'd meant. Messenger for whom or what? A different Leoben? One of the other Cylons? The Cylon God?

"You are a part of the plan," Leoben repeated. "You've taken one step along the path, and now I'm here to guide you the rest of the way."

Karl shook his head, now understanding why Kara had been so frakked up. Four months of this shit and he'd go crazy too.

He sat down on bed, with his back to Leoben. His naked skin twitched, expecting a blow, but he said flatly, "I'm not XO anymore; I don't have any codes for Galactica. I don't know anything important to the defense of the fleet, and anything I did know has all been changed anyway. But I know you don't believe me, so let's just get on with it."

"Oh, Karl," Leoben murmured in pity. "This has nothing to do with Galactica and the Fleet. We don't want to destroy it. If we did, it would be gone. This has everything to do with you and your destiny."

"My daughter, you mean." He shook his head, and his lips twisted in a grimace of despair. "It all comes back to Hera, doesn't it?" He ran his hand across the smooth sheets and realized what this was about with a sudden cold pit opening up in his stomach. "That's why I'm alive, isn't it? That's the plan. You want more."

He glanced at the doorway, expecting to see another Sharon there. But only the two Centurions stood there, exactly where they had been, keeping an eye on everything.

"We want more from you," Leoben answered. "But not the way you think."

Karl stood up again and turned around to face Leoben, finding him uncomfortably close. How the hell had he managed to get around the end of the bed without Karl noticing? Startled, he took a step back, then cursed himself for showing the weakness. He folded his arms and stared down at Leoben. "Well, you're not going to get more. Not without using a lot more force."

"This isn't about using force," Leoben said. "We don't need to do anything against your will. I only need you to listen."

Karl sneered at him, "So far you haven't said anything worth listening to."

He was pleased that the Cylon looked frustrated. Did they actually expect that because he loved Sharon that he would be friendly to their plans?

He chuckled bitterly, "You're just as bad as Tigh and them, you know? You think because I sleep with a Cylon that I'm a traitor. Well, frak you, I'm not. I won't help you."

Karl was pretty sure he got the last word when Leoben didn't answer. But then he realized something else was happening, when Leoben's gaze lifted to see over his shoulder to the doorway. And then Leoben lowered his gaze in respect and backed away from Karl.

Someone behind him spoke then, sounding dryly amused. "Karl Agathon. Almost all of Karl Agathon. No wonder she was so impressed with you."

The voice was familiar but for a moment, his brain refused to identify who was speaking. Karl turned, with a sense of dread settling into a cold stone in his belly.

Sam Anders passed between the Centurions and into the room.

Oh Gods. Frak. Frak.

Karl stared in shock. Because it was Sam Anders, former captain of the Bucs, but also very definitely not. He looked the same, from tousled hair and sleeveless shirt down to his ratty sneakers.

But Sam's arm was bare, missing the marriage tattoo. The familiar smile slipped right off his face, and his gaze had an eerie weight to it, as though he was looking at a ghost that no one else could see. It was certainly not an expression that Karl had ever seen on Anders' face. That added up to only one thing: Starbuck's husband, Cylon killer and resistance fighter, was himself a Cylon.

But it got worse. Because if Sam Anders was a Cylon, then Sharon had always known and never told anyone.

"Oh, please, Karl," Sam said, "don't look so betrayed. She doesn't know."

How the hell did he -- Then Karl figured it didn't matter how Sam guessed what he was thinking, and jerked his head up to confront him. "Don't lie to me. How could she not know?"

Sam cocked his head to one side. "Because none of them know. Except for my friend there," he gestured with a vague hand toward Leoben. "He knows. But he's my bridge, so he has to know. But the others are oblivious. They each see me as someone different, unless I will otherwise. Your precious Sharon has no more idea than you did that Samuel Anders is one of her own kind."

"But why?" Karl shook his head in confusion. "Keeping it a secret from your own people? It doesn't make any sense."

"It does and it will, Karl. But this isn't the time." Sam walked closer, now within touching distance. He didn't appear concerned that Karl could have attacked him. Not that Karl was going to, but it seemed ominous that Sam was so certain of his safety that he came this close. Karl's heart started to pound. "I revealed myself to you because you're one of the chosen. The father of the next generation."

Karl glanced at Leoben and back to Sam as several scattered pieces seemed to coalesce into a picture. "You - the other you - and Kara..."

"It's her destiny," Leoben said, and it sounded like agreement.

Sam smiled, and the affection in it made Karl's skin crawl. "Of course, she fights it at every opportunity. But she'll realize there's no choice in this. For any of us." His gaze flickered, with sadness or resignation, before the amiable mask returned.

"But what about me?" Karl asked. "Why are you here? When am I going to get a parade of Eights, frakking me in hopes of getting pregnant?"

"I could do that. But they won't be Sharon, will they?" Sam asked. "And none of them will love you, which is more important. So it seems like a waste of everyone's time."

Karl stared at him, unnerved by the calm, reasonable words. He'd thought the Cylons were all about the breeding program.

"So then, why? If you don't want me to breed more hybrids, then what the frak am I doing here?" Karl demanded. Even if he was afraid of the answer, he had to know. Because one thing was for sure, he wasn't getting out of here alive. Sam was a Cylon, some kind of special secret Cylon, and Karl was never going to get a chance to tell the fleet.

"Because you need to learn something," Sam explained. "You're not listening to Leoben, so I had to come myself. When we're done, I'll send you back to Galactica."

Karl didn't like the sound of that. They were going to make him into a sleeper agent, turn him against the fleet. "I'm not going to betray my people!" he declared. "No matter what you do."

Sam's smile fell away in disappointment. "You don't understand, Karl. I'm not your enemy. And I'm not going to turn you against the fleet. Why should I? I want the Fleet to exist; I want them to find Earth."

"So you can destroy all the humans all at once?" Karl snarled. "I'm not helping you."

Sam gave a sigh and exchanged a glance at Leoben as though Karl were a small child being especially dense. "You sound like Roslin," he murmured. Karl stiffened, offended that anyone would lump him in the same category as Roslin.

Sam continued, "I understand that you're afraid. But Karl, use your mind. Listen. Sharon is one of mine -- you have her because of me. Think about what that means. Neither Humans nor Cylons will survive if we don't join together."

"What more do you want from me?" Karl burst out. "I married one of you. I have a child. I'm hated by most of my own kind. There's nothing else I can do."

Sam's hands framed his face. His touch was gentle but strong -- Karl couldn't have pulled free if he wanted to. He could only meet the deep eyes - there was something there, some awareness that made Karl's insides clench. Sam whispered, "I want you to believe."

Then he leaned forward and his mouth touched Karl's. Like his touch, it was gentle and yet irresistible, and it sent a wave of warmth all through him. In its wake, as Sam pulled back, Karl realized that his anxiety had evaporated.

Sam let him go, and for a moment Karl felt as though he might fall, as if the touch had been holding him up and now it was gone.

The moment of disorientation passed and Karl watched Sam regard him for another long moment in silence.

"You need time," he said finally. "Leoben will stay with you and answer your questions."

Karl couldn't find his voice in the time it took to watch Sam cross the floor, pass between the two guarding Centurions, and disappear.

"What the frak was that?" he muttered, shaking himself to try to get rid of the odd feelings still lingering in him.

Leoben didn't move from where he was leaning up against the wall. "You have been blessed, Karl Agathon."

"Blessed?" Karl repeated, trying to sound scornful. "He's a Cylon, just like you."

Leoben shook his head, paying no attention to the attempted insult. "Not like me." He pushed himself from the wall and started back to Karl. "Not like Sharon. The Final Five are the hand of God, Karl; they are not like you and I."

"They're just machines," Karl insisted and then shut his mouth, hearing the echo of Roslin and Apollo and feeling ashamed that he was saying it. So he changed what he was saying hastily, "There is no single god. There are the Lords of Kobol, and they're certainly not using Cylons as their messengers."

"Why not?" Leoben challenged, but quietly, as if he really wanted to hear the answer. "We exist, just as you do. If the Lords of Kobol exist as well, then why would they not use us, too?"

"Because..." Karl stopped, biting his lower lip, trying to figure out the answer. It was just wrong, that was why. He exclaimed, "This is pointless. I don't discuss religion with Sharon and I sure as hell am not going to debate it with you. Believe in your lonely god, if you want. And if you really think Sam is some kind of "hand of God", be my guest, but don't expect me to buy into your Cylon mysticism."

Leoben smiled and asked, "How many sides does a triangle have?"

Karl frowned at him, confused by the bizarre question. He answered, knowing it was a trick question of some kind, "Three."

Leoben corrected, "Six. Three on the inside and three on the outside. When you open your eyes, you will see the truth that everything has more sides than you think."

Karl didn't quite know what to say to that and decided to ignore it as just an attempt at frakking with his mind. "The truth is that you're my enemy, and that's all there is to it."

Leoben moved backward, toward the doorway. "You're a part of his plan, Karl. You always have been."

Karl watched him go. The Centurions moved out of his direct sight, too, though Karl could hear that they hadn't gone far. Enough to give him the illusion of privacy, that was all.

He sat down heavily on the bed, thoughts whirling in confusion.

Sam Anders was a Cylon. And he had some sort of plan for Karl.

The worst part was that Karl wasn't sure he knew how to resist something he didn't understand.

* * *

The only break in the monotony of the cell was a Centurion bringing him a tray with a bowl full of soup and a cup of water. Karl lifted one spoonful of the tan goo, smelled it, and put it back. Barely processed pure protein. It probably contained all the necessary nutrients, but he needed to be a lot hungrier before he could choke it down. He left the tray on the table.

He did some push-ups and abdomen curls for exercise and to give himself something to do. Eventually he stretched out on the bed and tried to sleep. He dozed off eventually, but woke with the sound of the Centurions at the door. He sat up, gathering the sheet around him again.

Cylon Sam again entered the room, with Leoben at his heels.

"Did you think about what I told you?" Sam asked without a greeting.

"Not much else to do in here," Karl answered with a shrug. "If you're telling me that some Cylons can make their own decisions, yeah, I get that. I'm probably the only human who does."

"I need you to understand one step beyond that," Sam answered. He came close again, standing in front of where Karl was sitting on the bed. Karl found it slightly odd to have to tilt his head back so far to look up at him. He was used to everyone else being shorter than he was and it was unnerving to realize there were Cylons just as tall.

Sam looked down at him, and the bright light of ceiling lights dazzled Karl's eyes, enough so all he could see was Sam's face. "I have one question -- be honest. Do you believe that if we continue on as we have been that both the Humans and the Cylons will survive?"

Karl thought back to the virus, and how easily the president and everyone around her had decided to wipe out the Cylons. Then he thought about the occupation of New Caprica and watching the Pegasus explode and the bombing of the Colonies. And he had to shake his head. "No."

"That's right. There are many futures, Karl. I see them." Sam moved across the floor to the table, picked up the spoon from his abandoned lunch and wrinkled his nose at the smell. "In many, the Humans all die. In others, the Cylons all die. In some, no one survives at all." He laid the spoon back into the bowl without a clink and he turned back around. "There is only one I can see where we both live in peace. I have been trying for several years to move both of our people to that path."

Karl watched him, wondering. After a pause when it seemed like he should say something, he asked, "You really believe you can see the future, don't you?"

Sam turned back to him with a sudden laugh so reminiscent of Anders' it made Karl flinch. "You sound skeptical. I suppose I can't really blame you for that. I can share with you what I can see, Karl."

"You can? How?"

"I have shared with Leoben here several times, and I believe the same thing will work with a human. You will have to be willing. Your mind will have to be quiet and open."

Karl swallowed, "What do I have to do?"

Sam quirked a small wry smile. "Pray."

Pray to the Cylon God? Karl wondered. How was he supposed to do that?

"You can pray to your gods, it doesn't matter," Sam added. "It's the state of mind that matters."

Karl frowned, realizing how many times Sam had responded to something he hadn't spoken. The anxiety stirred up in his belly again. "How did you -- ? Are you hearing my thoughts?"

Sam nodded once. "Yes. But for you to hear me is much more difficult. We'll need to be very close. And you need to be receptive."

Karl swallowed hard, still nervous, but prayer ... prayer couldn't hurt anything. He sat cross-legged on the bed and Sam and Leoben both joined him there, their knees all touching to form a triangle.

"Close your eyes," Sam murmured. His eyes shut and his hands rested loosely on his knees. Leoben copied him, and Karl followed more slowly, but when he saw the two Cylons seemed to be relaxed, breathing evenly and in sync with each other, he closed his eyes as well and tried to relax.

Lords of Kobol, Aphrodite and Artemis, Great Zeus, hear me. Protect my wife and child from the hatred of those around them. Guide the Fleet to safety, save my friends. Give me guidance so I know what's right and show me the path that lies ahead of me. Help me understand what these Cylons want from me, and give me strength to resist if they mean harm to me or my people. Thank you, Lords for watching over me, and my family. So say we all.

Across from him, and yet so soft, it sounded like a great distance away, he heard Sam say, "Yes. Now."

Karl felt Sam's fingers on his face again, but the touch was light and didn't disturb his peace...

... until the darkness behind his eyelids flickererd with bright images:

Dying Cylons, lying on the floor, gasping for breath...

Colonial One exploding in a fireball...

A planet from space, a blue and green and white marble, turning brown right before his eyes...

Galactica, alone in space, and the Cylon Cavil in CIC and the last remnants of humanity floating out the airlock...

Basestars writhing and twitching like dying spiders...

Humans and Centurions firing on each other...

Red blood ... so much red blood all over a black floor that could have been the floor of a basestar or the floor of the Galactica...

So much blood and death. It was all he could see.

And yet, no. That wasn't all. There...

An older Hera, with Sharon holding her. And a brown haired little boy rolling around a pyramid ball while Kara and Sam grinned at him and each other...

... and more children and more faces - some Cylon - too many for Karl to see.


It stopped.

Karl was gasping for breath again, shaking, feeling as though he had been drowning. His mind still flooded with the images, he stared at Sam in amazement and just a little awe. "Oh my gods," he whispered. "It's true. You really do see it."

Sam inhaled a deep breath and nodded once. "Yes. I do. Even more that I didn't share with you. So many paths lead to so much death..." He shut his eyes and his shoulders slumped, so he looked unbearably weary. "There is only one chance for both our peoples to survive. Some of mine don't want that, just as some humans don't want that. I do. I want us to unite and be at peace. I have a few who follow me, pieces I've tried to put in place to bring us to the path... but not many."

He trailed off and Leoben, who still sat next to them, murmured, "A stone can change the course of the stream, but if the stream grows to a river, it's too late."

"Yes," Sam agreed with a sigh. "I see patterns, I see futures unfolding moment by moment as they shift, but not everything. I have power, but I'm not God, Karl. This destiny we want is a fragile thing, and so many things can go wrong."

Karl felt like he was standing on the edge of some great abyss - it was terrifying and yet exhilarating all at once. From this there would be no turning back. But he had no choice, not after seeing what Sam could see. He believed. He cleared his throat and asked, "What do you want me to do?"

Sam glanced up, seeming relieved by Karl's offer. "Mostly to keep doing what you do," Sam said. He reached out to lay both hands on Karl's shoulders. "And try to keep the other me -- the other Sam -- safe. Don't tell anyone what you know about him, him least of all. It's not time yet." He smiled, wry humor lifting his lips and crinkling his eyes, "And if you and Sharon should have another child, that would be ... helpful."

Karl chuckled. "I'm sure." He had the amusing thought that Sam was still running a Cylon resistance, only this time from within. But the impulse to humor died away as he looked into Sam's eyes and for just one instant, he could feel the echo of the terrible weight of the burden that he carried. He knew he could never carry it. He wasn't sure any human could.

But then, the Sam in front of him wasn't human, was he? He wasn't really a Cylon either. Something else. Something Karl didn't quite understand, but he knew enough.

"But most of all, Karl," Sam continued, "just know that you are not alone. You and Sharon are not the only ones who believe in a future together."

Karl nodded slowly. "That helps."

"Good," Sam flashed a smile, but his gaze flickered as though he caught a glimpse of something behind Karl. His hands lifted away, and Karl felt suddenly chilled at the loss. "We can't linger. Your clothes are under the bed. There's a Raptor in the hangar deck and we need to get you to it quickly."

He didn't explain why, but Karl obeyed.

At the base of the Raptor ramp, Sam said, "I trust in your good sense. There's no harm in telling Adama that there are other Cylons who believe in peace and let you go. You don't need to lie about everything, just me."

"Will I see you again?" Karl asked then laughed at himself. "I mean, I know I'll see Anders again. But you?"

Sam shrugged. "There are many futures, Karl. Some yes, some no. But I think yes -- as we approach the destiny we both seek, we'll meet again."

"Good. I'll see you then. Be careful," Karl said, meaning it, and punched the button to lift the ramp.

By the time he reached the front and sat in the pilot's seat, the hangar was empty.

* * *

Later it was difficult to look at his friend across the makeshift pyramid court and say nothing. But keeping the secret was a lot easier when he held his daughter and remembered that glimpse of another hybrid child.

If the price of future peace was his silence, it was one he would gladly pay.


fin



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weissmanweissman on February 15th, 2007 11:54 pm (UTC)
I actually like this version better I think the slash detracts from the impact of the story.

This is my third time reading it and it just gets better abd better


Bob
lizardbeth: Helo-Sharon fanficlizardbeth_j on February 16th, 2007 02:51 am (UTC)
*laugh* I'm glad I did it then!

I must admit I'm liking Prophet!Sam more and more, too. With the other one I was trying to get away from the concept that the Five are really the 'angels' like D'Anna thought of them as, and more real and earthy (albeit secret). But maybe it does work better with Sam as Something Else.
Jeff: Helo - Blue Herorepr0b8 on February 20th, 2007 11:47 pm (UTC)
I should have left feedback after the first time I read this, and then again after the second time, but I enjoyed it just as much after this third reading, so I won't feel so bad. :)

You actually made Sam being a Cylon a brilliant idea, which I never thought could be done. But the way you open the working of Helo's thoughts is what makes this story for me. His knowledge of Sharon, his desire for peace, his loyalty to humanity...it all plays together seamlessly to build an incredibly believable evolution of thought.

Kudos Liz, great job.
lizardbeth: Helolizardbeth_j on February 21st, 2007 05:07 am (UTC)
aww, you're so sweet! Thank you!

re: Cylon!Sam, I knew I had to do my version, in case it turns into canon. I'm still wishy-washy on whether I think the show's going there or not, but I KNOW I'm afraid of it being badly done.

Getting Helo to that end point of keeping the secret was quite a thought experiment, so I'm glad it worked.
Jeffrepr0b8 on February 21st, 2007 02:01 pm (UTC)
:)

As an aside, I was wondering if I might post this over at Kindreds? Of course I'll link back to the original post and make sure everyone knows exactly where it comes from. If you would prefer I didn't, I won't take any offense, but I would be grateful if you would let me archive a copy there.
lizardbeth: Helolizardbeth_j on February 23rd, 2007 05:29 am (UTC)
hey (sorry, new fic ate my brain).

Sure, no problem. I was going to do it myself, but go ahead, if you like.
Jeffrepr0b8 on February 23rd, 2007 05:58 pm (UTC)
Heh, I know how that is. I was just a little worried because I wrote my reply while trying to feed my boy, and worried that I might have come across rudely. *g*

Thanks for letting me post it, I've gone ahead and upped it there. :)