Title: Seen and unseen
Word Count: 4,116
Category: Challenge response: Supernatural, Colonel Tigh
Warnings: none... maybe a little angsty
Summary: Tigh contemplates all he's seen and left unsaid...
For the record: I do not own, nor do I claim ownership of characters or concepts from Battlestar Galactica
Tigh grimaced, glaring with deep longing at the bottle of amber liquid that had been his only comfort, his only balm for so long.
The only thing that deadened the images that flowed night after night with startling clarity, images of every Colony burning, glowing clouds of atomic heat rising spectre like from the ground, faint images of a laughing, darkly malevolent creature with pointed horns and a long pointed tale within the burning balls of rising hellfire.
Images he saw for the first time twenty years before Caprica fell.
Images he saw every sleeping moment, getting more and more clear, more and more vivid as the Day Of Judgement approached, not that the knew that was what was happening, or about to happen of course.
He was a realist, unlike her he had never believed in premonition, in farseeing or clairvoyance.
That was what drove them apart in the end, the sheer irony of it.
She believed and saw nothing, yet a confirmed sceptic like himself saw everything. Tigh sighed, well he believed now, not that she was around to apologise to. She had spent so long trying to persuade him that what he saw was a genuine premonition and not a fake that no time was spent as a married couple.
In her determination to make him see, she drove him away destroyed their mutual respect. God, he loved her still, still wanted her with every fiber of his being but he didn't respect her. No, she had unintentionally killed that and a marriage without respect… well; it wasn't much of a marriage.
That was why he had ended it. He knew one day he would end up really hurting her and as bitter as he had become by then, he couldn't do that, he wouldn't do that, become a wife-beating monster like his father.
He glanced at the amber liquid again. Course, that stuff hadn't helped. Well, it hadn't helped their marriage, it had eroded her respect for him, it had made control more difficult as the respect faded, made it harder to stop himself lashing out. Made it harder to stop himself shutting her up when she started one of her rants, permanently.
But Kobol help him, did it stop the visions!
One day he got drunk at a party, at… Kara's party, Christ that long ago? The one to celebrate her making the academy… yes that was the one. The old man had invited him and at that point he was like an Uncle to Kara so she had been happy to see him there, but he had slept well that night, the alcohol killing the visions.
One good nights sleep for the first time in years and he had never looked back.
Angrily, Tigh grabbed the bottle, shaking it, hatred lining his face as he glared at it. That was why Kara had so little respect for him, why she hated him so. She had looked up to him once, and now she was betrayed by the faint, alcoholic weak shadow of a man he had become.
Hatred, betrayal… that was all he saw in her eyes now. God, he had loved those eyes, the awe, amazement and love all contained within. God he had loved being her Uncle Tigh, even if they had no blood relation but he had killed that… hell, the visions had killed that.
So, what did he say now?
How did he tell them his latest vision?
How did he tell them that one of theirs, and not just anyone but one of their most respected pilots was a cylon?
How did he tell them he knew Boomer was a Cylon, because he saw her in a vision? How did he tell them that Baltar was compromised and for that matter was responsible for the destruction of the colonies?
The stopper on the bottle was wrenched off, Kobol help him, that he had never seen before, not till last night.
The great, all mighty, all knowing Baltar was a man led around by his dick, a weakness that was directly responsible for the colonies destruction.
Tigh smirked, and how did he tell them that he had seen Earth?
The smirk vanished.
And that they were headed in the wrong direction.
And that Earth was a divided world, torn by hatred fear and bigotry.
How did he tell them that he saw?
Tigh glared at the open bottle and decisively, he put the stopped on, sealing it tight closed, and dropped the bottle in his bottom drawer.
He turned to face the heavy wood of his desk, buried as it was under mounds of paperwork and forgotten meals. He reached across and quickly, efficiently tidied the mess away, taking a full half hour to ensure the desk was perfectly tidy and organised then he moved onto the room, loading up four full disposal sacks as he moved, his posture straightening as he moved, his manner shifting.
He knew what he must do, but he needed to plan, to prepare.
When Tyrol came to the room four hours later, forced to ask Tigh for assistance, he saw not an old, dried up Exec, but the lean mean man, slated for early Command that Tigh once was.
Tyrol almost smiled, almost. It seemed something had reminded Tigh of what he once was.
He hoped he stayed reminded, for Galactica with too such men at the helm as Adama and the old Tigh… well, that was a Galactica to fear.
But still if he was ever to slip… well, Tyrol wasn't one to forgive, wasn't one to forget.
And he had a long memory