Title: Family Ties
Characters Boxey and Original Character, Apollo and Starbuck by word of mouth
Warning Edited by myself, but no beta
Notes No Beta because this was originally just a tiny ficlet idea I ran with for my own amusement and posted in response to a comment from syble4's on this picture of Richard Hatch. In fact, it's only at her prompting that it gets it's own post (though again I did try and give it a once over now that it's not buried in some comments)
"Granpa B! Granpa B!"
Boxey started awake from his doze to find his youngest great, great grandchild looking up at him expectantly. Wasting no time on trivial things like letting his Grandpa B reorient himself, the small child climbed into Boxey’s lap and held something up to the old man's face.
"Who's this?" The young boy demanded.
Reaching beside him, Boxey put on his glasses and starred at the small rectangle inches from his nose with an expression that he hoped looked intent rather than confused. After a bit, his eyes focused on the image and he found himself looking at a smiling young man wearing the bare essentials of an unkempt dress uniform and leaning causally against a wall.
"That," Boxey rasped out "is your great, great, great grandfather, Apllo." He cleared is throat and waited for his grandson, question answered, to climb back down and find another pursuit. However, the boys stayed right were he was and Boxey instead fowned himself on the receiving end of a skeptical frown.
"Are you sure? I don't think it looks like him."
"Infant, your Grandpa B may not be able to remember that his glasses are on his head but he certainly recalls his own father." Boxey leaned forward and eyed they young boy with a sparkle in his eyes that show the reprimand hadn't been meant seriously, "especially since I'm the one who took that photo," he elaborated.
The little boy seemed suitably awed.
"You took it?"
Boxey nodded and took a moment to push his glasses back into place.
"Who I’m named after!"
"And rightly so, now don’t interrupt your elders," Boxey admonished, ruffling the boys brown hair. "As I was saying, Papa Starbuck gave me his camera for my 10th birthday. There was hardly any film left, cameras and film being causalities of the Destruction you understand, but I was so excited I had to take a picture right then. And that photo is what I shot."
The young boy nodded but remained skeptical. "It still doesn't look like Commander Apollo though. How come he doesn't look like this in my lesson book?"
Boxey wrinkled his nose in distaste. He knew exactly which photos the boy meant and he had to agree. The Apollo in those images did not look a thing like the Apollo in his photo, and the age difference between Captain Apollo and Commander Apollo was only the smallest part of the reason.
Boxey paused, wiped his glasses then stared for a moment at nothing behind the boy’s head working out how to explain. "It because that’s the real Apollo," he stated bluntly.
"You see, your lessons books aren’t interested in showing reality, so they went and found the most formal, stuffy, and un-father-like photo they could find of my father. People only want to remember "Commander Apollo" the hero who could single-handedly defeat whole Basestars, destroy an entire garrison, and save the fleet with just a laser pistol and his quick wit." Boxey snorted a small laugh at the hyperbole’s that had grown around his father’s name.
"Nobody wants to remember the father who would feed his son too many mushies, the friend who would play a game of triad with his friends and family anytime and then some duty allowed, or the lover and who would sit with Starbuck and tell stories when things got to scary for anyone to sleep at night."
Boxey disgustedly shook his head had enough to dishevel a few wisps of silver white hair.
"I suppose none of that is not heroic enough for most people, but you mark my words child," he pointed emphatically at the photo, "that’s the real Apollo, not that felgercarb they put in your books."
Folding his great, great grandson’s hands around the photo he gently pushed the boy down from his now sore lap, "Now, hop along and get the door, it must be your mother."
Ok so being asleep when you are supposed to be watching a small child isn’t the best of thing to be, but Boxey says wait until you are well over 250 and see how you do. And I have no clue how the Fandom in general works out Adama saying (paraphrase) “If I were 100 years younger” to Serina but I opted, in my head, to go with giving the colonial life spans more along the lines of what sometimes pop up in the Bible and such. I mean hey, if we are using these people to explain Pyramids and Olmec art, I can use it to explain the WTF ages in the bible, yes?
I liked that better than the only other explanation I saw, which was a websites saying that was proof that a Colonial Yaren was way shorter than an Earth year.
Xposted on my own journal