BSG Fic: Untitled (4/8)
Title: The One Where Lee... (4/8)
Author:
helen_c
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: The characters and the universe were created and are owned by Ronald D. Moore and Universal Television Studios to name but a few. No money is being made. No copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Chapter 3
Battlestar Galactica
38 days after leaving New Caprica's orbit
Bill fingered his glass of ambrosia, half-listening to Helo's report.
There wasn't much to hear; the Fleet was as good as it could be, under the circumstances. The Cylons were nowhere to be seen so far today-always a good thing.
The situation could be worse.
The situation had already been a lot worse in the past.
Helo stopped talking and waited for Bill to say something.
He looked tired. Everyone did these days.
Losing New Caprica, in some ways, was worse than losing the colonies had been. New Caprica was supposed to be a safe haven, a chance to live in peace.
Instead, they had turned and abandoned friends and comrades to their fate.
"Dare I ask how morale is?" Bill asked.
Helo sighed, leaning back on his seat and closing the folder he was carrying. "Not good, sir. Not worse than usual, but... Not good."
Bill nodded.
"We need to go back there," he said, mostly to himself.
"Yes, sir."
Some of the civilian captains were strongly opposed to the idea.
Gardner, the current Commander of the Pegasus, was dead set against it, and his crew followed his lead. The man had actually accused Bill of wanting to go back only to save his son.
But there were some people-on the Fleet, on the Pegasus, on the Galactica-who saw the situation as it was.
They were too few to keep running from the Cylons for very long.
There were so few of them left that finding a planet and settle there wouldn't make a difference; they would die out in a few generations.
There was no going around it; if they wanted to have a shot at saving humanity, they had to go back to New Caprica and help the settlers escape.
It wasn't only that his son was down there as well (though yes, knowing that once again, he had lost Lee, that once again, he had been unable to make him stay, was eating at him, little by little, like water hitting at rock wave after wave.)
"Let's talk about rescue plans again." Not that they hadn't had this discussion before, but maybe this time, they'd actually find a workable rescue plan.
There must be something we're not thinking about.
For all our sakes, there has to be something.
*
Battlestar Galactica
One month before the presidential election
Saul was done with his report and Bill took off his glasses, rubbing the bridge of his nose.
How long would these glasses remain accurate for his sight, and what would happen when they didn't fit him any more? Was there an optometrist on the Fleet?
Yet another thing to worry about, yet another thing he was powerless to change. If there wasn't one, then people would just have to start getting used to their eyesight deficiencies.
Such a small thing, a minute detail, but it could have an impact on morale amongst the civilians, and it could have long-lasting consequences if it took them long to find Earth.
Every small detail had become important, and Bill didn't feel as able as he once had been to keep his eye on each of the hundreds balls that were flying around.
"Admiral?" Saul asked.
He nodded at his friend though he could barely remember what he'd said. "Yes. Good."
"You okay?"
The direct question was unlike Saul; he must be very worried to ask it so bluntly.
"Of course, I am." I have my son back. Why wouldn't things be fine?
Things weren't so simple but Saul didn't need to know that.
Hell, Bill had never thought that things would be easy if, by some miracle, Lee was ever found.
He had considered all the possibilities-Lee miserable and mistreated somewhere, Lee cultivating his resentment far away from them all, Lee lonely and unable to come home, regretting his choice, Lee hurt and calling out for his parents and not getting a reply, Lee dead somewhere and buried without anyone grieving for him, or even knowing about it.
He had considered everything except for what actually happened.
Lee didn't remember his family, didn't remember him, and it hurt like hell. That Lee had left of his own accord, all those years ago, didn't help.
Bill had told himself, time and time again, that if he got his son back, he wouldn't screw up again, he would make things right, he would make sure that Lee knew he was loved, would know his place in his father's life.
He was trying.
Gods knew he was trying.
Lee didn't make things easy; that much hadn't changed. No matter how hard they both tried, the fact remained that, more than father and son, they were two strangers. Every discussion they had was stilted and awkward, every word carefully weighed so that they would skirt the sensitive issues.
It was inevitable that they ended up talking about nothing at all.
"I don't understand why you keep trying," Saul said. He had poured himself another glass of ambrosia, and was swinging it down like water. That probably wasn't a good sign, but Bill lacked the energy to do anything about it.
"Because he's my son," he replied. No matter what, that hadn't changed either.
Whether Lee remembered it or not, he was still the kid Bill had held in his arms moments after he was born, staring in wonder until a nurse took him away to give him a bath.
He was still his son.
"No, he's not. He's someone you don't know anymore."
Bill didn't react to the words. Saul was his best friend, but he didn't understand, couldn't understand. He didn't have children of his own.
Even if Lee had grown into a man, a stranger, in the years he had spent away, it didn't change the fact that he was Bill's blood.
"You think things are going to go back to what they were," Saul went on, almost accusingly. "But in case you forgot, he left then, and didn't contact you for years."
And that hurt, Bill couldn't deny it. He wished he could know what had gone through Lee's mind, but now, it looked like that would never happen. Lee claimed he didn't remember, and Bill believed him; his son was many things, but a liar wasn't one of them.
Saul put his glass back on the smooth surface of the table. "I just don't understand how you can forgive him."
"I know you don't," Bill said.
"Children are a liability," Saul said. "And he made his feelings clear when he left." He left on that note, leaving Bill alone with his thoughts.
Lee may have made his feeling clear when he left home-without a note, without a goodbye, without a warning sign that Bill could remember-but clearly, things had changed.
His son, no matter how difficult things were, didn't show any sign that he wanted to leave again without turning back.
Yes, it was a small progress, but after ten years spent wondering if his son was even alive, Bill would take all he could get.
*
Battlestar Galactica
25 days after the fall of the colonies
Lee looked like he was ready to run out at any moment, yet he remained where he was. It seemed like a struggle, but he stayed, and Bill felt some hope that this might turn out all right in the end.
"How can you be sure?" Lee asked. He was looking at his clasped hands, at the floor, at the books on the shelves-anywhere but in Bill's direction.
Still, he stayed there, waiting.
Wordlessly, Bill went to retrieve a thick photo album from the lower drawer of his desk.
He hadn't looked at these pictures for years-since Zak's funeral, perhaps. Hadn't wanted to be reminded of happier times he couldn't get back.
He opened it so the last picture he had of his whole family would show-Zak, Lee and himself in the garden behind their house on Caprica. He handed it over to Lee, noticing the way his son hesitated before taking the album, steeling himself before looking down at it, a small breath escaping him as he came face to face with himself.
Bill saw him go white and asked, "Are you all right?"
Lee ignored him, transfixed by the picture. He raised his head and said in a tight voice, "I'm going to be sick."
Bill pointed in the direction of the bathroom and Lee hurried out, shoving the album at him.
"Sorry," he said when he came back, a few minutes later. He was still very pale, and his hair was sticking to his forehead, but he looked composed again.
Bill waved off the apology. "You okay?"
Lee nodded jerkily. "Yeah." He extended his hand. It was shaking, Bill noticed.
Bill gave him the album. Lee sat back on the couch without a word and started flipping backwards through the pages, going back in time, studying each picture with a stony face that gave nothing away.
Bill tried not to look at his son, knowing it would only make him more uncomfortable than he already was.
It took Lee fifteen minutes to reach the first pictures of the album. He looked absolutely drained when he set it aside. Bill tried to find something to say that wouldn't be a platitude or "I'm sorry," couldn't find anything, and waited for Lee to say something.
"They both died in the attacks?" Lee asked eventually.
Bill shook his head but Lee still wasn't looking at him so he forced the words out. "Your mother did. Your brother died in a Viper accident, two years ago."
Lee took in the news with a sigh, still looking away. "What was his name?"
"Zak. Your mother was Carolanne. I'm William, by the way."
Lee looked up then, almost smiling. "I know. And I was Lee."
It wasn't phrased as a question, but Bill said, "Yes."
There were a thousand things Bill wanted to tell his son-that he had always loved him, even if he had been bad at showing it. That he had looked for him, had never stopped looking for him, even when he had lost all hope of ever seeing him again. That he had missed him.
He wanted to wrap Lee in a hug and not let go until he was sure he got the message.
It was too soon, though. If he did any of that, Lee would retreat and then… Well, Bill wasn't sure what would happen then.
He wasn't sure what was going to happen now.
What were they supposed to say? How have you been doing?
"You said your son-I-disappeared," Lee said. He looked up at last, meeting Bill's startled gaze. "What happened?"
Bill cleared his throat. "You ran away when you were sixteen." He tried to keep his tone neutral, but he knew some of the hurt must have gone through.
Lee took in the news, thinking it over before asking, "Why?"
"I don't know. I always hoped one day, I'd find you and you'd tell me." There was no letter, no clue. No one saw it coming; not your mother, not your friends or your teachers, not even your brother, and the two of you were close. You just skipped your afternoon classes one day, and by the time anyone noticed, you were long gone.
Zak had taken Lee's leaving the hardest, blaming Bill for not being there enough, for not being able to prevent it. They were barely speaking to each other by the time of his death. Yet another sign that he was a failure as a father-as if his oldest son running away hadn't been proof enough.
Lee was staring off into the distance, smiling bitterly. "I wanted to know who I was, all these years." He met Bill's eyes, gesturing at the photo album. "And obviously, once upon a time, I didn't want anything to do with-" He looked away.
"With me?" There was an uncomfortable silence. Bill dreaded the answer, but he forced himself to ask, "Do you want to go away now and pretend this discussion never happened?"
He ignored the tactician in him that was yelling at him for giving ideas to his son that he might actually follow.
Bill needed to ask it, and Lee needed to be asked. He needed to feel like he had a choice, he needed to be given a choice, and Bill could at the very least give him that much.
"Would you let me?" Lee asked bluntly.
For a heart stopping moment, Bill thought that this was it, that he had lost him again.
Then, Lee swore softly. "I'm sorry. I… I have no idea." He got to his feet stiffly. "I should head back." He didn't give Bill any time to talk. "I'm the pilot of the Carina. You can contact me there."
"I will," Bill said.
Lee looked equally worried and relieved.
Bill added, "We don't need to have a heavy discussion, or anything. Maybe we could just grab something to eat. If that's okay with you." This was about as awkward as asking his first girlfriend out, he thought. And about a hundred times as nerve-wracking.
Lee nodded, said, "Okay. Fine," then left hurriedly, probably needing space after all that had been dumped on him.
Bill sank back on his seat, breathing deeply.
A second chance.
He had been given a second chance.
This time, he wasn't going to waste it.
*
Battlestar Galactica
One month before the presidential election
Except it turned out that he was wasting that miraculous second chance.
He had always thought that he would find his sixteen-year-old son and they would pick up things where they had left them.
That wasn't going to happen, though-and maybe it was for the best, maybe Saul was right on that at least. After all, when Lee was sixteen, things were bad enough that he ran away.
Maybe it was good that things had changed.
It was just a matter of finding some common footing, of learning to know each other again.
If they could both be patient enough.
If they could both rein in their anger long enough.
If, if, if.
But it was worth it, no matter what Saul said.
He could remember a time when his son was happy, a time when his smiles reached his eyes and made him look impossibly young and carefree.
He wanted to see his son happy again.
Surely, that wasn't too much to ask, was it?
Chapter 4
Author:
helen_c
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: The characters and the universe were created and are owned by Ronald D. Moore and Universal Television Studios to name but a few. No money is being made. No copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Chapter 3
Battlestar Galactica
38 days after leaving New Caprica's orbit
Bill fingered his glass of ambrosia, half-listening to Helo's report.
There wasn't much to hear; the Fleet was as good as it could be, under the circumstances. The Cylons were nowhere to be seen so far today-always a good thing.
The situation could be worse.
The situation had already been a lot worse in the past.
Helo stopped talking and waited for Bill to say something.
He looked tired. Everyone did these days.
Losing New Caprica, in some ways, was worse than losing the colonies had been. New Caprica was supposed to be a safe haven, a chance to live in peace.
Instead, they had turned and abandoned friends and comrades to their fate.
"Dare I ask how morale is?" Bill asked.
Helo sighed, leaning back on his seat and closing the folder he was carrying. "Not good, sir. Not worse than usual, but... Not good."
Bill nodded.
"We need to go back there," he said, mostly to himself.
"Yes, sir."
Some of the civilian captains were strongly opposed to the idea.
Gardner, the current Commander of the Pegasus, was dead set against it, and his crew followed his lead. The man had actually accused Bill of wanting to go back only to save his son.
But there were some people-on the Fleet, on the Pegasus, on the Galactica-who saw the situation as it was.
They were too few to keep running from the Cylons for very long.
There were so few of them left that finding a planet and settle there wouldn't make a difference; they would die out in a few generations.
There was no going around it; if they wanted to have a shot at saving humanity, they had to go back to New Caprica and help the settlers escape.
It wasn't only that his son was down there as well (though yes, knowing that once again, he had lost Lee, that once again, he had been unable to make him stay, was eating at him, little by little, like water hitting at rock wave after wave.)
"Let's talk about rescue plans again." Not that they hadn't had this discussion before, but maybe this time, they'd actually find a workable rescue plan.
There must be something we're not thinking about.
For all our sakes, there has to be something.
*
Battlestar Galactica
One month before the presidential election
Saul was done with his report and Bill took off his glasses, rubbing the bridge of his nose.
How long would these glasses remain accurate for his sight, and what would happen when they didn't fit him any more? Was there an optometrist on the Fleet?
Yet another thing to worry about, yet another thing he was powerless to change. If there wasn't one, then people would just have to start getting used to their eyesight deficiencies.
Such a small thing, a minute detail, but it could have an impact on morale amongst the civilians, and it could have long-lasting consequences if it took them long to find Earth.
Every small detail had become important, and Bill didn't feel as able as he once had been to keep his eye on each of the hundreds balls that were flying around.
"Admiral?" Saul asked.
He nodded at his friend though he could barely remember what he'd said. "Yes. Good."
"You okay?"
The direct question was unlike Saul; he must be very worried to ask it so bluntly.
"Of course, I am." I have my son back. Why wouldn't things be fine?
Things weren't so simple but Saul didn't need to know that.
Hell, Bill had never thought that things would be easy if, by some miracle, Lee was ever found.
He had considered all the possibilities-Lee miserable and mistreated somewhere, Lee cultivating his resentment far away from them all, Lee lonely and unable to come home, regretting his choice, Lee hurt and calling out for his parents and not getting a reply, Lee dead somewhere and buried without anyone grieving for him, or even knowing about it.
He had considered everything except for what actually happened.
Lee didn't remember his family, didn't remember him, and it hurt like hell. That Lee had left of his own accord, all those years ago, didn't help.
Bill had told himself, time and time again, that if he got his son back, he wouldn't screw up again, he would make things right, he would make sure that Lee knew he was loved, would know his place in his father's life.
He was trying.
Gods knew he was trying.
Lee didn't make things easy; that much hadn't changed. No matter how hard they both tried, the fact remained that, more than father and son, they were two strangers. Every discussion they had was stilted and awkward, every word carefully weighed so that they would skirt the sensitive issues.
It was inevitable that they ended up talking about nothing at all.
"I don't understand why you keep trying," Saul said. He had poured himself another glass of ambrosia, and was swinging it down like water. That probably wasn't a good sign, but Bill lacked the energy to do anything about it.
"Because he's my son," he replied. No matter what, that hadn't changed either.
Whether Lee remembered it or not, he was still the kid Bill had held in his arms moments after he was born, staring in wonder until a nurse took him away to give him a bath.
He was still his son.
"No, he's not. He's someone you don't know anymore."
Bill didn't react to the words. Saul was his best friend, but he didn't understand, couldn't understand. He didn't have children of his own.
Even if Lee had grown into a man, a stranger, in the years he had spent away, it didn't change the fact that he was Bill's blood.
"You think things are going to go back to what they were," Saul went on, almost accusingly. "But in case you forgot, he left then, and didn't contact you for years."
And that hurt, Bill couldn't deny it. He wished he could know what had gone through Lee's mind, but now, it looked like that would never happen. Lee claimed he didn't remember, and Bill believed him; his son was many things, but a liar wasn't one of them.
Saul put his glass back on the smooth surface of the table. "I just don't understand how you can forgive him."
"I know you don't," Bill said.
"Children are a liability," Saul said. "And he made his feelings clear when he left." He left on that note, leaving Bill alone with his thoughts.
Lee may have made his feeling clear when he left home-without a note, without a goodbye, without a warning sign that Bill could remember-but clearly, things had changed.
His son, no matter how difficult things were, didn't show any sign that he wanted to leave again without turning back.
Yes, it was a small progress, but after ten years spent wondering if his son was even alive, Bill would take all he could get.
*
Battlestar Galactica
25 days after the fall of the colonies
Lee looked like he was ready to run out at any moment, yet he remained where he was. It seemed like a struggle, but he stayed, and Bill felt some hope that this might turn out all right in the end.
"How can you be sure?" Lee asked. He was looking at his clasped hands, at the floor, at the books on the shelves-anywhere but in Bill's direction.
Still, he stayed there, waiting.
Wordlessly, Bill went to retrieve a thick photo album from the lower drawer of his desk.
He hadn't looked at these pictures for years-since Zak's funeral, perhaps. Hadn't wanted to be reminded of happier times he couldn't get back.
He opened it so the last picture he had of his whole family would show-Zak, Lee and himself in the garden behind their house on Caprica. He handed it over to Lee, noticing the way his son hesitated before taking the album, steeling himself before looking down at it, a small breath escaping him as he came face to face with himself.
Bill saw him go white and asked, "Are you all right?"
Lee ignored him, transfixed by the picture. He raised his head and said in a tight voice, "I'm going to be sick."
Bill pointed in the direction of the bathroom and Lee hurried out, shoving the album at him.
"Sorry," he said when he came back, a few minutes later. He was still very pale, and his hair was sticking to his forehead, but he looked composed again.
Bill waved off the apology. "You okay?"
Lee nodded jerkily. "Yeah." He extended his hand. It was shaking, Bill noticed.
Bill gave him the album. Lee sat back on the couch without a word and started flipping backwards through the pages, going back in time, studying each picture with a stony face that gave nothing away.
Bill tried not to look at his son, knowing it would only make him more uncomfortable than he already was.
It took Lee fifteen minutes to reach the first pictures of the album. He looked absolutely drained when he set it aside. Bill tried to find something to say that wouldn't be a platitude or "I'm sorry," couldn't find anything, and waited for Lee to say something.
"They both died in the attacks?" Lee asked eventually.
Bill shook his head but Lee still wasn't looking at him so he forced the words out. "Your mother did. Your brother died in a Viper accident, two years ago."
Lee took in the news with a sigh, still looking away. "What was his name?"
"Zak. Your mother was Carolanne. I'm William, by the way."
Lee looked up then, almost smiling. "I know. And I was Lee."
It wasn't phrased as a question, but Bill said, "Yes."
There were a thousand things Bill wanted to tell his son-that he had always loved him, even if he had been bad at showing it. That he had looked for him, had never stopped looking for him, even when he had lost all hope of ever seeing him again. That he had missed him.
He wanted to wrap Lee in a hug and not let go until he was sure he got the message.
It was too soon, though. If he did any of that, Lee would retreat and then… Well, Bill wasn't sure what would happen then.
He wasn't sure what was going to happen now.
What were they supposed to say? How have you been doing?
"You said your son-I-disappeared," Lee said. He looked up at last, meeting Bill's startled gaze. "What happened?"
Bill cleared his throat. "You ran away when you were sixteen." He tried to keep his tone neutral, but he knew some of the hurt must have gone through.
Lee took in the news, thinking it over before asking, "Why?"
"I don't know. I always hoped one day, I'd find you and you'd tell me." There was no letter, no clue. No one saw it coming; not your mother, not your friends or your teachers, not even your brother, and the two of you were close. You just skipped your afternoon classes one day, and by the time anyone noticed, you were long gone.
Zak had taken Lee's leaving the hardest, blaming Bill for not being there enough, for not being able to prevent it. They were barely speaking to each other by the time of his death. Yet another sign that he was a failure as a father-as if his oldest son running away hadn't been proof enough.
Lee was staring off into the distance, smiling bitterly. "I wanted to know who I was, all these years." He met Bill's eyes, gesturing at the photo album. "And obviously, once upon a time, I didn't want anything to do with-" He looked away.
"With me?" There was an uncomfortable silence. Bill dreaded the answer, but he forced himself to ask, "Do you want to go away now and pretend this discussion never happened?"
He ignored the tactician in him that was yelling at him for giving ideas to his son that he might actually follow.
Bill needed to ask it, and Lee needed to be asked. He needed to feel like he had a choice, he needed to be given a choice, and Bill could at the very least give him that much.
"Would you let me?" Lee asked bluntly.
For a heart stopping moment, Bill thought that this was it, that he had lost him again.
Then, Lee swore softly. "I'm sorry. I… I have no idea." He got to his feet stiffly. "I should head back." He didn't give Bill any time to talk. "I'm the pilot of the Carina. You can contact me there."
"I will," Bill said.
Lee looked equally worried and relieved.
Bill added, "We don't need to have a heavy discussion, or anything. Maybe we could just grab something to eat. If that's okay with you." This was about as awkward as asking his first girlfriend out, he thought. And about a hundred times as nerve-wracking.
Lee nodded, said, "Okay. Fine," then left hurriedly, probably needing space after all that had been dumped on him.
Bill sank back on his seat, breathing deeply.
A second chance.
He had been given a second chance.
This time, he wasn't going to waste it.
*
Battlestar Galactica
One month before the presidential election
Except it turned out that he was wasting that miraculous second chance.
He had always thought that he would find his sixteen-year-old son and they would pick up things where they had left them.
That wasn't going to happen, though-and maybe it was for the best, maybe Saul was right on that at least. After all, when Lee was sixteen, things were bad enough that he ran away.
Maybe it was good that things had changed.
It was just a matter of finding some common footing, of learning to know each other again.
If they could both be patient enough.
If they could both rein in their anger long enough.
If, if, if.
But it was worth it, no matter what Saul said.
He could remember a time when his son was happy, a time when his smiles reached his eyes and made him look impossibly young and carefree.
He wanted to see his son happy again.
Surely, that wasn't too much to ask, was it?
Chapter 4