Chapter 21: Guardian
Title-The Guardian
Author: Starpollo78
Rating- T (for now)
Warnings- Mystery/Angst/Romance
Spoilers- Speculation on some storyline rumors for 2nd half S3
Pairing-L/D, L/K
Disclaimers-I don't own these characters, Ron Moore does
Summary: As Lee attempts to build Baltar's defense, he's pulled into a vortex of mystery surrounding the final five and the 'Guardian' foretold by the scriptures. Everything is about to change. LeeCentric, but full cast story, some LK.
Previous chapters can be found at the following archive or at my journal
Chapter 21
It never ceases to amaze him, how self involved and oblivious most human beings are. He’s hiding in plain sight, in a disguise so minimal it’s hardly deserving of the word. And yet the throngs pass him by, too preoccupied with the value of their own lives to comprehend the enormity of this day.
His antiquated brethren are scouring the ship and very soon they’ll deliver her to him. The anticipation is intoxicating.
In the meantime, he amuses himself by offering a helping hand to a young woman in the crowd who’s lost her footing. Her skin is gleaming with perspiration, her eyes dilated with fear, but there’s relief and even gratitude clear in her voice when she says, ‘Thank you.’ She walks away, never having looked at his face, never knowing that she entrusted her hand to the enemy.
She’s a minnow…one of the young fish in the mindless school of humanity, just following the current. But his Kara is a rare species. Always fighting the flow and seeking escape upstream, but never realizing…he is the water. As foretold, they exist for one another. He gives her purpose…to swim. She adds life to his world and soon they will create a new life, a new future…together.
He indulges in a rare smile and slips away to a more secluded location to await her arrival.
They encountered the first corpse’s two causeways before and they haven’t spoken a word since. When necessary, they communicate with their eyes or in brief touches and gestures. Kara understands, as he does, you don’t talk in a graveyard.
So far they’ve been lucky enough to avoid detection, but their current route seems to be increasing in carnage. Although Kara can hear gunfire in the distance, the men they’re passing were clearly dispatched by blades, not bullets. She’s still in the lead with Lee providing cover on their six, when she sees a familiar form writhing on the ground. She hesitates a moment before tapping Lee on the shoulder.
Lee doesn’t remember breaking formation or kneeling down beside her. It doesn’t matter that she’s his ex-wife and even less that she’s a cylon. The only thing his mind registers is the impossible amount of blood surrounding her limp form. “Dee?” Her eyes are glazed over, but they flare with recognition at his prompting.
Kara tries to focus on monitoring both ends of the hallway, but the tragedy unfolding at her feet won’t be dismissed. She cannot block out the heavy gurgling that accompanies each of Dee’s breathes, nor the sadness of Lee’s voice as he calls Dee by her proper name.
“Anna.” He pulls her into his lap, “Anna look at me.” She obeys, but moans in protest when he applies pressure to the gaping wound in her stomach. Lee can feel wet warmth seeping into his cargo pants, confirming his suspicion that she was speared straight through. There’s nothing he can do but hold her while she dies.
Kara wants to tell him that they don’t have time for this…that Dee wouldn’t have wanted him to risk his life to watch her death…but she can’t. Surprisingly, the only words she manages to produce form a whispered prayer for the young woman’s soul.
“Lee?”
Her voice sounds fragile as glass, “Yeah, I’m here Anna. I’m here. You’re going to be okay.” He doesn’t know why he’s bothering to lie; she always knows when he’s lying.
Her head shakes in refusal, arching back, making her voice sound gravelly, “Can you see them?”
Lee shakes his head, tears biting behind his eyes, “No,” he strokes his thumb over her cheek, “See what? Dee…Dee?” She’s fading quickly, but a part of him believes that if she just keeps talking it will somehow stem the flow and fill the void.
Her grip turns painful on his wrist as her head lolls back, eyes focused above, her voice urgent and resolute, “I can see them.”
The tension leaves her body, but even in death her eyes are still wide and unrelenting. Her small frame feels heavy in his arms as he gently places her on the floor. He feels Kara grips his shoulder and he shudders against the flurry of emotions her touch unleashes. It’s only after she cautiously extends two fingers to brush the tears away that Lee realizes he’s crying.
Kara’s self loathing reaches a new pinnacle when she forces the next words from her mouth, “Lee…Lee we have to go.”
He leans forward away from Kara’s warmth until his hand hovers over Dee’s lifeless gaze. His hand trembles on her forehead, but he forces himself to look in her eyes one last time before closing them forever. There’s something more than death reflected there, a crimson undercurrent skitters across those glassy orbs. Lee cranes his head upward, following Dee’s last line of vision. With eyes unfocused, he looks beyond Kara’s concerned countenance, until he sees the near imperceptible shift in the hull above them. “MOVE!!!”
Kara has only an instant to process the word he’s screamed or the fact that Lee’s on his feet and pulling her toward the bulkhead, when a searing pain slices across her backside. She twists away stumbling into the crook of Lee’s left arm as he raises his right and fires a shot into the head of a metal toaster that’s dangling from the ceiling.
The centurion falls heavily to the ground, one talon full of twisted metal from Galactica’s hull and the other slathered in red; rubies stolen from the women he loves. Kara has already found her footing and although it must be killing her shoulders, she’s got her weapon trained on the ceiling. He can see her target, a second toaster nestled in the rafters, camouflaged by Galactica’s dull grey sheen.
Kara holds two fingers up and points toward the nearest access corridor. An unsettling voice tells her that their second friend isn’t planning to engage or follow them. There’s no reason to believe it, except that she knows it’s true. She can feel Lee’s back against hers and she keeps pace, matching her retreat to his forward steps until they’ve dogged the hatchway behind them. When she lowers her weapon she can feel the lashes on her back stretch open anew. She hisses a curse under her breathe when Lee assesses the damage.
“You’re going to need stitches, the frakker got you good.”
An attempted smile dissolves into a grimace, “Well then, I guess it’s a good thing we’re bound for Cottle’s Kingdom.”
If Kara’s dour sense of humor is her coping mechanism, then Lee’s compartmentalizing. Right now, he can’t allow himself to think about Dee’s death or how close he came to repeating that scene with Kara in his arms. Instead he locks those thoughts away, clutches her hand tightly and presses forward, “Let’s move out.”
“Galactica Actual, this is Showboat do you read?”
“Actual here, sit rep?”
“Sir, we’re down to six raiders and with the alert fighters incoming now. Still no sign of a base ship or any vessel larger than the heavies that punched through.”
“Can you see the impact sites?”
“Yes, sir. The two holes in the hull are going to prevent us from retracting the flight pod, but at least there’s no evidence of fire damage.”
“Copy that Lieutenant. Continue weapons free and then bring them back to the barn. Actual out.”
Tigh watches his old friend carefully, “What are you thinking, Bill?”
“We’re missing something.” He can tell by Saul’s expression that they’re on the same page. “We’ve got marine teams taking down centurions at all corners of the ship, but none near aft damage or auxiliary fire control.”
“Which is a bad thing because…”
“Because I don’t like it.” He can see a small grin flick across his XO’s face, “They seem unorganized, and if there’s one thing we both know, it’s that the Cylons don’t do anything without a plan and a reason.” Bill’s thoughts stray for a moment to their new allies and he wonders if they made a mistake in trusting the Final Five.
“Admiral, the President is on the line for you.”
As he picks up the receiver, Bill marvels whether, just maybe, Laura’s chamala extract imbues her with psychic powers. “Put her through.”
Laura turns from the headset and into a cloud of offending smoke. She coughs pointedly, before addressing Cottle, “Is there something I can do for you Major?”
“Yeah!” Cottle jerks his head toward the exit, “What the hell is going on out there?” When the President merely raises an eyebrow in question, he clarifies, “Should I be expecting any major traumas and does it even frakking matter?”
“We’re holding our own, but I expect you’ll be seeing more of the same.” Laura moves off to the side, to make room for a marine who’s dragging his comrade toward an open bed. The injured man seems too limp to merely be unconscious and Laura forces herself to return her attention to Cottle, “Is there any way I can help?”
“Yes, get back in bed and stay there.” He can tell he’s enraged and insulted her, but he truly admires this woman and whether she knows it or not, her body needs rest. “Look, unless you can suture open wounds, you’re useless to me.” He lowers his voice to that rare timber that bestows his utmost respect, “The best thing you can do for this fleet and yourself, is to take it easy.”
Laura sighs deeply, two seconds shy of relenting when Lee Adama bursts through the doors of Life Station with his Guardian in tow, looking decidedly drawn and pale.
Lee grabs the sleeve of the first white coat he sees, “Where’s Cottle?”
Kara spurns Lee’s steadying hand, “I’m fine Lee.” The dangerous sway of the room around her suggests otherwise, but her pride simply won’t allow her to lean on Lee for another minute. He practically dragged her the last quarter mile, but she stubbornly refuses to acknowledge the pain, insisting, “It’s just a scratch.”
Cottle closes the distance with the President on his heel; so much for getting her to relax. “Thrace I haven’t got time for a debate, so either step behind a curtain and let me take a look at the damage or Adama Junior here’s going hold you in place and these fine folks are about to get a show.”
What little blood isn’t clotted against her backside is now racing toward her face, but Kara pulls up enough indignation to huff out a “Whatever” before following Cottle to a cubicle in the back. A quick glance over her shoulder halts Lee in his pursuit.
His slight irritation at Kara’s attitude is quickly outweighed by the knowledge that it means she’s going to be fine. Laura’s hand on his shoulder surprises him, but not nearly as much as the open concern in her eyes.
“Are you alright?” Lee appears unharmed but there’s so much blood soaked across his arms and clothes that she’s struck with an alarming sense of déjà vu. She half expects to see the bars of Galactica’s brig surrounding them, rather than the sterile walls of Life Station. “What happened?”
“Ambush…the centurions were using wounded crew as bait.” Lee swallows back the rancid flavor of bile, “Dee’s dead.”
Laura considers pointing out that Dee may have had a chance to download, but her gut commands her to stay silent. Their understanding of the Final Five’s resurrection capabilities is sketchy at best and instilling a false sense of hope could ultimately cause more damage. Instead she offers up a sincere, “I’m sorry.”
Lee nods numbly as all those dark thoughts, banished in the heat of battle, begin to resurface.
Laura squeezes his shoulder, “I’ll let the Admiral know that the two you made it here safely.”
With the floodgate opened, he begins reliving the sequence of events in his head. The more he thinks about it the more their escape bothers him. Those Cylons had them…at the very least, they had Kara dead to rights, but they only wounded her. And the second centurion didn’t make a single move to stop them. Why?
Cottle’s reappearance draws Lee from his revelry, “How is she?”
“The cuts are just deep enough to be painful and bleed like all get out, but nothing life threatening. I’ve irrigated the wound, put a dressing on, and Ishay will be around in about an hour to sew her up.”
“An hour?”
“There are twenty-seven ladies in line for sutures before her.” Cottle lights up a cigarette, “It’s nice that the Cylons are sending me more cuts than gunshot wounds, but at this rate my staff will be blind by the end of the day from stitch work alone.”
A chill runs down Lee’s spine as the pieces clicks into place.
Why would machines designed for war injure rather than kill? Because that’s what they were programmed to do…injure the target. Why permit escape? Because the refuge for the infirm is the extraction point…there is no escape.
With each step he takes toward Kara’s curtain, he hears her warning echo in his mind, ‘They’re here to capture, not kill.’
But they’re not here for me.
Author's Note: Hey guys! This was a really hard chapter for me to write...action sequences are not my strength, so any feedback is appreciated. As always hugs to readers and sloppy kisses for reviews.