Author:
Fandom: AtS/Battlestar Galactica
Pairing: Ellen/Gunn.
Rating: NC17.
Setting: Spoilers through "Lay Down Your Burdens: Part 2."
Words: 1635.
Summary: For fanfic100 025 strangers. The five ways that Ellen Tigh and Charles Gunn could've met.
Charles Gunn has a reputation of never losing, and that's the first thing that attracts Ellen to him as she fingers his gold embossed business card. Margaret, her next door neighbor, took her ex to the cleaners when she used Gunn.
It helps that Margaret also mentioned that he's cute and single. Ellen applied her lipstick very carefully that morning.
Gunn has an office overlooking the green ocean and on one his shelves is a collection of robots. After the Cylons left, people tossed out anything that reminded them of the toasters; but Ellen liked that he displayed them in his office. Much better than Saul and Bill and their ancient ships.
"You must be Ellen Tigh," Gunn says and extends his hand. He's taller than she expected, but the wide smile makes her feel welcome, not shunned. "Charles Gunn."
"Pleasure to meet you." Ellen sits down on the chair in front of Gunn's desk. She quickly explains her case. It's straightforward: Saul's in the military and can't emotionally support her. She also muttered something about her infidelity and their drinking. Thankfully, Gemenese law didn't extent here; Saul couldn't take everything from her based on adultery.
Gunn is both sympathetic and paying attention to her. Ellen enjoys it and purses her perfectly done lips together. She suspects that Gunn will be naked and in her bed by the end of the week. Ellen knows how to pick her lawyers.
*****
Ellen frakking hates walking in the mud, which she does far too often. She also despises forced manual labor under Cylon watch. Of course, she prefers the metal toasters over Number Three's watchful eye.
Everyone's supposed to be in their tents by 2000 hours, and Ellen is late again. She curses her lack of foresight for not buying boots in her size when she could still trade on the black market. Instead, she stuffs socks in Saul's extra pair, wears them, and trips over her own toes. Ellen hasn't been this poor since her stepfather threw her out at 16.
When she's almost to Roslin's school, Ellen feels a cold breeze in the air. It swirls around her, and she pulls her jacket tighter to her body. There's some strange mist forming in front her, but Ellen passes it off as just another irritating something on New Caprica. It's not surprising that so many people suffer from pneumonia and other common diseases.
But the air becomes thicker, almost gelatinous around her, and Ellen lets out a scream, hoping someone, even a damn toaster, will come to her aide. Instead, her feet hit solid ground: concrete. Ellen hasn't seen concrete since Cloud 9 exploded.
"Get out of the way," someone shouts. Ellen looks over just in time to see a young man with dark skin racing toward her. He pushes her to the side, and they stumbled onto the ground. He keeps shouting at the people following him.
When she pulls herself to her feet, Ellen finds herself surrounded by young people who can't be older than 20. "What's going on?"
"Could ask you the same thing," says the young man who pushed her. "What's a middle-aged white lady like you doing out here? Trying to get eaten by a vamp?
"I am not middle-aged," Ellen says. Sure New Caprica hasn't been particularity good for her skin, but that doesn't mean this man can go around insulting her. "And what are you, 15?"
The man rolls his eyes. "18. I'm Charles Gunn." Charles extends his hand.
"Ellen Tigh," Ellen responds, "and I'm not going to tell you how old I am."
"Fair enough. Got a home? I'll drive you there."
For the first time, Ellen truly realizes that she's no longer on New Caprica. That this place and these teenagers cannot be under Cylon control. "I don't think that's an option anymore," she says as she looks over to where the mist was. The air's thin and empty.
"There's an abused women's shelter over on 33rd." Charles nods for his friends to be on their way, that he'll be taking Ellen wherever she needs to go.
Ellen can't help but chuckle. Saul and her had many fights, but they were always equally horrible to each other. Now she'll never yell at Saul again. "No. Sorry. Though I could use a place to sleep and a shower."
Gunn smiles at her, and Ellen's satisfied that her charm seems to be working on him. Especially since under that baggy shirt and pants, he's rather attractive. "We'll see what we can do about getting you a cot at Anne's."
For the first time since Ellen heard the nuclear explosions, she's not worried about the future.
*****
When Ellen promises Saul that she won't mess around, she means it. She means it for a week until she bumps into a young pilot in the mess. She's at the salad bar, trying to decide between a sweet or salty dressing, and his tray hits her arm. He's tall and handsome with skin the color of the chocolate twizzles that she used to indulge herself during her favorite Wednesday night broadcast. In other words, perfectly edible.
Ellen never learns his real name, but his callsign is Gunn and that's the name she whispers in his ear. She has his attention, a touch on his hand, a nod, a word, and they find themselves in a storage room on the Galactica.
"Usually, I don't," he says. His hands travel up her shirt, feeling the silk of her bra.
Ellen grins. "Neither do I." And they both know they are liars.
Gunn's an excellent kisser, alternating between high intensity and sweet softness. She feels like melting into him. He pulls her up higher, using the wall to support her back. He's strong. Gunn's arms are sculpted in a way that reminds Ellen of a younger Saul.
Undoing his pants, Ellen takes his hard, waiting cock into her hand and hears his breathing become more rapid as she strokes the shaft. "Like that, Gunn?" she asks as he tugs her skirt up enough to realize that she's not wearing underwear.
"Gods yes." Gunn's fingers push into her cunt, and Ellen squeezes against them. When he grins, she matches it with a smile of her own.
Ellen positions herself over Gunn's cock and exhales as he enters her. He feels wonderful like something she's been missing since she woke up with Bill at her bedside. Ellen's back scraps against Galactica's metal. But she doesn't care.
Gunn feels good, feels solid underneath her. She understands why he's a decorated pilot with how steady he guides her and how he makes her feel like her feet are on the ground. Ellen puts her hand between her legs and comes, while thinking about trees and sky.
*****
Ellen hates being bored and being idle. Saul's been in negotiations concerning military weaponry development contracts with a law firm called Wolfram & Hart. Thankfully, there's a bar in the building. Ellen would've thought that by now, as a Colonel's wife, she'd be used to waiting.
When a man who's green takes her order for another Ambrosia, she doesn't questions if the green's face paint or reality. She knows enough not to ask questions when she accidentally became lost at Area 51 and might've seen something out of The X-Files. Ellen's not telling and not allowed to go onto secure bases anymore.
"Put it on my tab, Lorne."
Ellen smiles as a handsome man places the drink in front of her. "Thank you, Mr. ?"
"Charles Gunn," Charles says as he joins her with a microbrew in his hand. Ellen's not sure if she's ever met a man who could pull off orange and come across stylish and not gay. "You must be Mrs. Tigh."
"I prefer Ellen." She guesses that he's the lawyer Saul and Bill have been with all day. Ellen's heard that this place had more records than the Pentagon, but she didn't believe it until now. "Is my husband going to be done anytime soon?"
"Not for a while." Gunn shakes his head. "Fred and Knox have him cornered in the lab, and Angel's got another pen's worth of ink in forms for him to sign."
"Well, at least they finally sent me company. I've never been to L.A. before, any sights you suggest?" Ellen thinks that she'd like to see more of Gunn. Maybe a beach or a sunset too.
Gunn drinks from his beer as if he's contemplating where he's going to take her. "I enjoy the view from the cliffs. I didn't even know there were cliffs in L.A. for the first 22 years I lived here."
"Cliffs sound gorgeous," Ellen says. "I assume you have a car."
*****
Number Seven is a gorgeous black man wearing a finely tailored suit. Ellen doesn't miss him when he walks by her tent. She hasn't seen someone that clean since she caught a glimpse of Number Six's heels entering Colonial One.
He's one of the few Cylon agents who doesn't have Centurions constantly by his side. Number Seven's also friendly and outgoing. Not in a creepy way like Leoben and his attraction to Kara.
"Mrs. Tigh," Number Seven says, "what can I do for you?"
"Got a drink?" Ellen's not worried with him. Not worried about getting her face smashed in or being taken to one of their Farms. She can't bear children since the accident six months after she and Saul were married.
Number Seven shakes his head. They both know that the agents aren't supposed to show preference to one human over another. But Number Seven and Ellen talk almost every night. She knows it's the same Number Seven as he has a tiny scar on his wrist.
Roslin's already recruited her to steal information. Ellen's just not sure that she wants to betray Number Seven.