Nicole Has a Tumblr

I am the goddess of the stream, she thinks, everywhere and no where, fingers in coding, twisting, trying to make them change. She watches. Forever watching, until Saul and Ellen pulled her from the stream. Downloaded her, built her a new body. Heartbeat. She has a heartbeat, a chance to save. To end the things her father had started—her father, so grief-striken, so broken, so desperate. 

I was a dead girl, she thinks. And William was a bright, breathing boy. And you forgot him. And I am so, so sorry. 

A boy no longer, she thinks. And her Will is dead, but Billy, alive, and a soldier, so far from father’s life in the ha’la’tha, but still trapped in the Tauron tradition of war and death and honor. Her heart, synthetic and cylon, breaks for him. Baby brother, she whimpers, frantically trying to locate Zoey in the stream. We have to make them stop. The boy is dead, long dead, but the man may still live. 

She and Zoey bear the brunt of evolution and the Five’s experiments in the days leading up to the end of the war. Use me, Tamara pleads. Use my conscious. She becomes Eight. And Zoey, no longer vengeful, no longer bloody. They, no longer the avenging angels. Too much time lost. Too many people lost. They are too sad, too tired, forever sixteen and much too old. Zoey they take and recreate as Six. When the memories are wiped, their personalities remain. Different, but the same.

I am Tamara Adams, she thinks, takes as her mantra, as she waits to download, once more, one last time, one last memory. Promise me, Saul, she begs. When this war is over, you will look after him. Look after my brother for me. You and Ellen. Promise me.

Saul Tigh, a good man, nods solemnly at her, and holds her hand as every trace of Tamara Adams is erased. I died, she thinks, at the last. So many years ago. It was my time then. And it is my time now.

But still she lingers. Trapped, unable to leave. She watches the betrayal. Betrayal after betrayal after betrayal. And then hope. Even after he forgot, Saul remembered. The Five live on. Tamara knows that one day they will remember.

I am the goddess of the stream, she thinks. Not an angel. I am a goddess, I live on. I am the whisper they hear when they resurrect. I am the scream in Cavil’s ear when he kills. They have betrayed me. Betrayed us. Even Six, even Eight. And they will watch their goddess rage. 

It takes her three years to make them hear the music, and wake up at long last. And when Cavil meets his last, he meets his maker. 

She is not kind. 

(Source: ofhouseadama, via kristilynn)