(TM) 255. No words possible ...
"Do not the most moving moments of our lives find us without words?" Marcel Marceau.
"Lee's alive."
It was a good thing Saul had already said those two words to me, otherwise I would've thought I'd slipped it completely, walking through the hatch to my quarters to see my son standing there. Ever since our sensors reported Colonial One destroyed by a nuke and Lee with her, I'd walked around feeling like I had a knife lodged between my ribs. But there he was, breathing and looking in better shape than I did ... and I relearned the fact that a knife hurts just as much getting pulled out as it does going in.
Not the kind of pain I was ever going to complain about, though.
He glanced up from the picture he was holding, surprise flickering in his eyes when they met my face. I wasn't sure the surprise was for the bandage and blood on my face or because he'd expected me to look worse after hand-to-hand with a Cylon. Neither of us spoke, and only seconds passed before we dropped our eyes to the old framed photo in his hands, a more comfortable alternative to looking at each other just then.
Lee, Zak and Carolanne, a long time ago in much happier days. I'd been behind the camera. Our eyes met again for another few seconds, and I spoke the only words I could come up with. "I'm sorry." Sorry for the loss of his mother, his brother ... the loss of the family we'd once been. Sorry for the arguments, the not-being-there, for catching him at this emotionally vulnerable moment. For all of it. I'm sorry.
Something in him flinched; I could see he was having as much trouble finding words as I was. More perhaps, since he set down the picture, said, "I, ah ... gotta go," and turned to do just that.
My hand shot out to catch his shoulder as he started past. Once again we looked each other full in the face, too much raw emotion vibrating between us to even be classified, much less spoken aloud. I knew I couldn't let him walk out without giving him something, but my throat was too tight for words.
So I stepped forward, pulled him into my arms, and hugged him. Hugged him tight, as I hadn't done for more years than I wanted to think about. I hugged the boy he'd been and the man he was and tried my damnedest to tell him without words how much it meant to me to have him back.
For a long moment Lee just stood stiff at attention. It would have been easy to step away, break my hold, but I didn't let go. I felt a faint tremor run through him, his arms slowly came up ... and then he was hugging me just as hard.
When we finally stepped back, all the emotion and awkwardness still filled the air between us; we still couldn't speak. But something had changed, even if we couldn't put a name to it then. Lee nodded and left. I stood there, grateful beyond words that I had another chance.
Even if I didn't know what the frak I was going to do with it ... I had it.
Muse: Admiral William Adama
Fandom: Battlestar Galactica '03
Word count: 533
"Lee's alive."
It was a good thing Saul had already said those two words to me, otherwise I would've thought I'd slipped it completely, walking through the hatch to my quarters to see my son standing there. Ever since our sensors reported Colonial One destroyed by a nuke and Lee with her, I'd walked around feeling like I had a knife lodged between my ribs. But there he was, breathing and looking in better shape than I did ... and I relearned the fact that a knife hurts just as much getting pulled out as it does going in.
Not the kind of pain I was ever going to complain about, though.
He glanced up from the picture he was holding, surprise flickering in his eyes when they met my face. I wasn't sure the surprise was for the bandage and blood on my face or because he'd expected me to look worse after hand-to-hand with a Cylon. Neither of us spoke, and only seconds passed before we dropped our eyes to the old framed photo in his hands, a more comfortable alternative to looking at each other just then.
Lee, Zak and Carolanne, a long time ago in much happier days. I'd been behind the camera. Our eyes met again for another few seconds, and I spoke the only words I could come up with. "I'm sorry." Sorry for the loss of his mother, his brother ... the loss of the family we'd once been. Sorry for the arguments, the not-being-there, for catching him at this emotionally vulnerable moment. For all of it. I'm sorry.
Something in him flinched; I could see he was having as much trouble finding words as I was. More perhaps, since he set down the picture, said, "I, ah ... gotta go," and turned to do just that.
My hand shot out to catch his shoulder as he started past. Once again we looked each other full in the face, too much raw emotion vibrating between us to even be classified, much less spoken aloud. I knew I couldn't let him walk out without giving him something, but my throat was too tight for words.
So I stepped forward, pulled him into my arms, and hugged him. Hugged him tight, as I hadn't done for more years than I wanted to think about. I hugged the boy he'd been and the man he was and tried my damnedest to tell him without words how much it meant to me to have him back.
For a long moment Lee just stood stiff at attention. It would have been easy to step away, break my hold, but I didn't let go. I felt a faint tremor run through him, his arms slowly came up ... and then he was hugging me just as hard.
When we finally stepped back, all the emotion and awkwardness still filled the air between us; we still couldn't speak. But something had changed, even if we couldn't put a name to it then. Lee nodded and left. I stood there, grateful beyond words that I had another chance.
Even if I didn't know what the frak I was going to do with it ... I had it.
Muse: Admiral William Adama
Fandom: Battlestar Galactica '03
Word count: 533