[bsg fic] Elect
So! This is the fic that ate my brain - the Muse has not allowed me to work on anything else for the last two months. I wanted to write something short, snarky and bantery; instead, this came out dark and angsty and talkier than a Rohmer film. It's still a little rough but I wanted to get it out before the end of the year - call it my own fic amnesty day. Unbeta'ed (unless you count my loving spouse who is not very critical) - so feedback is much appreciated!
Title: Elect
Author: indigo419
Rating: R for implied sexual situations
Pairing: Lee/Kara
Spoilers: Some spoilers for second half of season 2, though mainly I’m making guesses about what will happen in the future. [written during the hiatus between S2.0 - Pegasus, September 2005, and S2.5 - Rez Ship, January 2006]
Summary: Lee has to make some decisions.
Disclaimer: Just playing in Ron Moore's 'verse.
Futurefic, set about a year and a half after S2. Definitely AU after 2.13. x-posted to beyond_insane
Subsequently posted to bsg2003fics
[bsg fic] Elect
Apollo: Ahh, Galactica, Apollo. Mission... accomplished. You can tell Dr. Baltar he was right on the money. It's one hell of a fireworks show. And there's plenty of ore for us back in the canyon, once this place is history.
Starbuck (to Roslin, after hugging her): Sorry, Madam President, I'm sorry.
Roslin: No need to apologize, Lieutenant. Thanks to you, we have enough fuel to last us a few years.
[] [] []
Lee leans back and tries to remember what he’d hoped to become, before the world came to an end. It certainly wasn’t chief babysitter for deep-space refueling operations. The mission’s simple enough, but after the debacle with Birch, the Commander is not inclined to take any more chances with such a precious resource. Still, it’s a struggle to stay focused.
He sighs and falls back on a favorite pastime, thinking of names for the bar he’d wanted to open back on Caprica. Dionysia. Amphora. Caroline’s. Well, his elegant, proper mother surely would have hated having a bar named after her if she’d been alive - he’s not sure she’d appreciate it even in memoriam. Colonel Tigh’s Top Drawer. Tigh One On.
“- that right, Major?”
Frak. He’s worse than a nugget, spacing out while millions of tons of fuel flow past his head. “Affirmative, captain,” he replies to the tanker’s skipper, “we’re taking on less than last month.”
“Bad credit, eh? Or is the President rationing Galactica’s supply now?” The captain laughs at his own bad jokes. He’s a good sort, Apollo knows from innumerable resupplies.
“You know rationing’s a bad word, Tank.” He hopes his voice carries the right note of inside humor and hint of command. “Nah, Galactica’s just setting a good example. “
As he glides in after the mission Lee thinks about the fuel situation. Since he signs off on all combat fuel consumption reports he’s well aware of how low the reserves are - had figured out even before they left the remains of the Cylons’ mining operation that they would have to make some hard decisions at some point. But even a simple man like the tanker captain can do the math by now, and word gets around quickly.
His office - really a single-person bunkroom, with a desk crammed into it - is dark when he enters, but he knows where all the furniture is and crosses the room to his locker in exactly three strides. Having divested himself of his flight suit, he flips on the switch in the head to brush his teeth.
A growl from the bunk. “- the frakking light out.”
He laughs, props the door open wider with his foot. “Spoiled,” he says, around a mouthful of toothpaste. “To think you used to sleep in a room with ten bunkmates.” In the light that spills past him he can see she has a pillow on top of her head.
“Shut up. Sleeping,” she says through the pillow.
His ablutions completed, he snaps off the light again and pushes her over so he can get under the covers. Kara scoots over automatically, but lets out a muffled squawk when he grabs her waist with cold hands. “Didn’t you used to like it when I’d come in after CAP and sneak it into you?” he whispers lasciviously.
“You’re depraved,” she complains, but snuggles into him nevertheless.
“So nice and warm,” he murmurs, and slides his icy hand down her stomach, between her thighs.
“Frak, Lee!” But she turns over and settles her breasts more snugly against his chest, and doesn’t protest when he begins to move insistently against her.
[] [] []
“Thanks for tuning in to WCOL, your source for Colonial news around the clock. In today’s news: The Quorum of Twelve enters a second week of debate concerning the partition of the Fleet. Meanwhile, demonstrations are forming on both Cloud Nine and the Gideon, and prayer rallies have been announced for all ships. So far, none of the protests have turned violent, but aboard Cloud Nine the pro-Earth and the colonist groups have exchanged angry words. The Quorum has sought to defuse the situation…”
“We should just ditch the losers,” Kara says, still grumpy from a hangover. Lee shoots her a look.
“That’s what got us into this mess in the first place. The press misinterpreted remarks from a closed Quorum session, and now people think we’re trying to offload the undesirables.” Kara squeezes past him to the desk and he takes the opportunity to straighten her wayward jacket collar.
“No one’s forcing anyone to leave,” Kara grouses, and Lee corrects her.
“No one’s leaving - nothing’s been decided.”
“Yet.”
He sighs. “Yet.”
“It’s the only logical solution! We can’t extend our fuel forever, and half the people are ready to mutiny if we don’t find Earth by next week. I say leave them behind, and add their fuel to our reserves.”
“First of all, even if we did split the Fleet, we haven’t even identified a likely solar system. Second, whatever gets decided has to be by unanimous vote and getting to that will take all the way to Earth.” Lee busies himself digging through the overcrowded locker. The lockers were never designed to hold more than one person’s belongings, and as meager as their wardrobes are, there’s still not enough room to hang two sets of uniforms without wrinkling.
Behind him there is silence. Kara is almost never quiet, except maybe on recon. He straightens up against the pressure of her eyes on his back and turns to meet her gaze. “What?”
“’We haven’t identified a likely solar system.’ Which means you’ve been looking for one. So, really, nothing’s been decided yet?” She sets her booted foot on the chair and ties her laces swiftly, the snap of her movements becoming more pronounced as her temper rises. “Nice to know the President’s already made up his mind. When were you going to tell me, Lee? Or the rest of the Fleet, for that matter?”
“Kara, it’s not like that. We’re just thinking ahead - thinking through different scenarios,” he amends, as he sees her eyes narrow. “We just started discussing this option.”
“When, yesterday? Or last week?” Her lips tighten at his silence.
“Great. Democracy at work. Not to mention trust,” she snaps. “So when they split up the Fleet, are you staying behind with President Gray?”
Lee blinks - always, Starbuck is ahead of him, in this no less than in combat. “I - hadn’t thought about it,” he admits.
She eyes him for a beat, nodding to herself. Then she walks out.
“I was going to tell you,” Lee mutters, and kicks the locker door savagely.
[] [] []
Despite the alert tedium that being on security detail entails, Lee is happy to volunteer for this one, as long as it gets him off Galactica. Lee scans the ranks of the delegates for anything out of the ordinary. Sometimes he thinks he might like to be one of them - after all, being a representative for any one of the Colonies these days is closer to being mayor of a small town than the planet-wide responsibility it used to be. He could manage that, couldn’t he?
Tom Zarek is working the crowd as if he was student council president. Though Lee keeps a wary eye on Zarek, he is fascinated by his machinations. The man really is a master manipulator. For a man with a reputation as a rebel, he is remarkably urbane, at ease with hicks and socialites alike.
“Apollo, son of -“
“- son of Zeus,” Lee mutters in concert, as Zarek walks by.
Zarek nods towards the speaker at the front of the room. “You should be up there. Be a damn sight better than him.”
Lee nods noncommittally. He’s wary of Zarek’s flattery (the man foments plots within plots, just out of habit) but he has to admit the thought’s crossed his mind. The Aerilon delegate raises his shrill voice. Unfortunate that the pool of candidates from his colony was so small. Lee’s not the best public speaker - Kara likes the limelight more than he does - but he’s comfortable with command.
The assembly breaks up. On a whim, Lee ducks out and heads towards the living quarters. He hasn’t been on a civilian ship in a while and he misses the reminder that life is more than just military ops and endless shifts. He walks past a mess hall: empty. Gym: empty. As he rounds a corner he hears singing down another hall, and follows the sound to a room full of giggly preschoolers , bright as a flock of birds. Lee leans against the wall and watches the class until the children line up and troop off for recess.
[] [] []
When he gets back from the Quorum meeting Lee finds a message from the Commander waiting. “See me in my quarters,” is all it says.
The Commander’s door is ajar, per usual. Lee barely gets a knock in before he hears “Come in,” and that clairvoyance of his, too, is usual. His father is seated at his desk in front of a model ship. By now he’s probably taken to disassembling old models and putting them back together, given the dearth of craft stores in space.
“Are you staying on Galactica, son?” At least he’s spared Lee a preamble.
As much practice as he’s had, Lee hates disappointing his father. This isn’t - disappointment, exactly, but still… “Probably,” he says.
The Old Man’s face doesn’t change, and that’s telling, too. Not for the first time Lee notes the similarities between Kara and his father. Neither of them ask for anything - it’s theirs by right or not at all. He fights the urge to shift from foot to foot. “I’ll let you know,” he offers. “Will that be all, sir?”
The Commander holds his gaze a moment longer. “Yes. Thank you.”
[] [] []
He hasn’t seen Kara since she stormed out of their quarters, and if he knows her at all she probably won’t turn up till well after he’s gone to bed. Best to give Kara time to be angry, she’s actually more civil after she’s had time to stomp around.
He’s not quite sure why she’s so angry - given his job, there are frequently things she isn’t privileged to know - but he senses this is the start of a freeze-out. It’s been a while since he’s gotten the silent treatment. When they have personal issues they tend to settle things quickly, with either fists or frakking. It’s when his civilian and military personas intersect that Kara gets pissy for days, and for reasons she keeps to herself, Kara hasn’t complained much about his advisory role since Laura’s passing.
Truth be told, lately he’s missed the tumultuous first phase of their relationship. He’s been known to goad Kara into fighting, purely to see her eyes flash.
Now, though, he just misses her, even though on any normal day they’d easily go this long without talking. He hates leaving things on a raw note. Plus, he likes to hear Kara mock the day’s events. It relaxes him. “How is the fatuous gasbag today?” So Lee goes in search of her, even though he knows she’ll probably ignore him or piss him off.
As he passes the rec room he hears voices - Triad, so early? - and then the sound forms into familiar laughter, hers and yes, Helo’s. He freezes, thinks about backing up and walking away: he doesn’t want to know, doesn’t want to see her smile at anyone else tonight.
Too late. He hears footsteps approaching the corridor, and looks up to see Helo grabbing her wrists, and pulling them away from his waist. “No, Kara, I’m not!”
Kara is facing Helo, hasn’t realized Lee is there. “C’mon, Helooo!” She pauses when Helo looks up at the newcomer, and then the shutter drops over her features. “Oh, hey.”
“Major.” Helo nods, releases Starbuck’s wrists.
“Lieutenant.”
“Uh.” Lee raises an eyebrow. “Dinner?” He looks at her, then at the Raptor pilot, who isn’t half so dumb.
“Thanks. Gotta run.” Helo bows out, ignoring Kara’s blazing look, and ducks through the hatchway.
He waits. She puts a hand on her hip. “Well? Made any decisions yet?”
Lee sets his jaw, holds his hands up to forestall the accusation in her gaze.
Her mouth twists. “Don’t wait up.”
He does, anyway, to no avail.
[] [] []
Papers. Papers rustling. Diagrams and whiteboards. Since when did a pilot’s life involve so much writing?
“I understand the basic premise, but what’s to keep the Cylons from swooping in as we finish offloading - or after we leave - and wiping the colonists out?” President Gray waves a hand at the board.
“Well, sir, we don’t exactly have any guarantees, but we know that they’ve been attacking less frequently as we get further away from home. Could be they’re finding it harder to support these long-range attacks, or they’re toying with us and they want us to survive. Either way, that gives us a bigger window of time to drop off the colonists and get away without them realizing what we’ve done. And if they are just playing with us, then the colonists have the same chances of survival the Fleet does. Possibly more, if you support the guerrilla strategy.”
Gray raises an eyebrow. “Explain the guerrilla strategy again.”
Lee politely reviews the scenario, reminding himself that Gray’s bureaucratic career never prepared him to become military commander-in-chief. “Sir. The idea is that the colony maintains a low profile - scattered communities blending into the terrain, minimal technology - to be as invisible and unappealing as possible to the Cylons. We’re so far away from their base of operations that they’re probably uninterested in taking over an insignificant human outpost.”
“And this way we split up the targets. Two chances to evade the Cylons, rather than one. “
“That’s correct. And the Fleet becomes more nimble, since we have more fuel and fewer ships to escort.”
The President looks thoughtful. “Have we decided whether to leave the colony with any tyllium?”
“Only enough to get to the surface. Once they arrive they’ll need to scuttle the ships to avoid being tracked via their power cores.”
“Ditch perfectly good ships. Hmm.”
“Yes, sir. Well, you could remove the cores, and use the ships for parts, but if the people cluster around the ships it will make them more conspicuous and less mobile.”
“It’ll take some convincing to get them to embrace this guerilla strategy of yours.”
Lee has to smile at that. “Not mine, sir. Just a basic military concept.”
Gray isn’t really listening to him, Lee realizes. “You went to War College, didn’t you, Major?”
“Yes, sir.”
“We could use some people with leadership skills, planetside.”
Lee blinks at this. Buys some time. “Does that mean you’re staying on with the colonists, Mr. President?”
A wry smile. “It looks like a little more than half the population want to stay, so that’s where my place is. Plus, I’d like to get off this tin can.”
“It’ll be a big change from the comforts of Colonial One.”
Gray laughs, brushes his suit dismissively. “Trappings of power notwithstanding, I used to love camping, when I was a kid.” Not to be distracted, he turns back to Lee. “How about it, Major? Fresh air, a chance to build your own legacy -“ shrewd glance, there - “and something other than the prospect of being shot down every fourteen hours.”
Suddenly Lee is very tired. Tired of other people presuming to understand everything between him and his father. He flashes back to Laura Roslin and the faint amusement in her eyes, even when she was manipulating you. Lee cracks his neck, not meeting Gray’s eyes. “Not much for civilization-building, myself - I’m just a pilot,” he says.
Gray is politician enough to know when he’s strayed too far. “Well, Major, I think we’re done for the moment. You should get some rest.”
Lee rises to his feet. “I’ll get the civilian escort schedule to you tomorrow, sir.”
[] [] []
Everyone is on edge, though they don’t admit it. Even though this has been debated for months, it’s always been a mirage in the distance, a day no one believed would come. Now they all have new roles to play, duties to divide, farewells to say, and it’s difficult to comprehend that this will be irrevocable. In a way it’s like getting a do-over on the end of the world, except the first time no one saw it coming and so there was no sense of dread. Now everyone knows what the stakes are.
[] [] []
They’ve been in orbit three days. Time to pull the trigger, if they’re to avoid attracting Cylon attention.
The Commander takes his glasses off and rubs the bridge of his nose. “The Quorum understands that this is irrevocable? No military support, except those who choose to stay. No off-world transport. No communication, once we leave. No second chances.”
President Gray nods. “People are restless. If we didn’t set down here, a lot of them would break away, anyway. Better to keep this controlled.” He sighs. “With Laura gone…” He spreads his hands, shrugs. “Not everyone has the faith -“ he catches Adama’s eye, changes what he was going to say - “or the fortitude to keep going.”
Adama grunts. “I’m not a religious man. But I’d rather be a moving target.”
The President looks at Lee. He has nothing to add, so they move on to logistics.
[] [] []
Kara is not in the bunkroom when Lee gets off duty. They haven’t talked much in the last week, since she asked him if he was staying on with the colonists. She hasn’t gone back to the pilots’ bunkroom, for which he’s grateful, but she’s switched shifts on him so they’re rarely in a room together.
There hasn’t been time, anyway - since they want to transfer the colonists before the Cylons catch wind of the plan, they are cramming the transition schedule into less than a week. So, no morning runs, no joint workouts. But the tension between them is just an added weight on his shoulders when he walks from one meeting to the next. An added strain, in the way he cocks his ear to hear her laughter as he passes the wardroom.
Right now he’s just tired - tired of fighting, of keeping up appearances - and he’s hopeful that maybe Kara will cut him a break. Isn’t that what friends do for each other? Friends. Friend. Girlfriend. It’s ironic, all this time frakking each other, bunking together, and they still can’t put a label to what they are to each other.
She isn’t in the rec room, or on the hangar deck, either. He heads for the gym, and is reassured to hear the steady thwap-thwap-thwap of the speed bag. He waits till she turns to face the door, so as not to interrupt her rhythm.
“Hey.”
“Hey.”
He nods. Tests the waters. “Will I see you tonight?”
She lets up on the bag, and what she sees in his face must persuade her that he’s desperate. Or something.
“Ten more minutes.”
He’s still in his dress grays when she walks in, staring at the mountain of release forms on his desk. Every name is that of a friend, someone else to say goodbye to.
Kara takes him in at a glance. She crosses the room to him and pushes him down into his chair; undoes his jacket as if he were a child. Kneels and unlaces his boots. Hands him his sweats and he takes them mechanically, gratefully accepting her direction.
She turns the light out and pulls him towards the narrow bunk. For a moment he’s content just to hold her. But then she runs her hand down his arm and something snaps, he lets go and allows himself to take the comfort she’s offering. He’s quick and not nice and all the while she holds him, never stops making wordless oddly soothing sounds in his ear and when he comes, shuddering and wracked, she runs her fingers through his hair for long minutes, never mentioning the salt damp on her shoulder that isn’t her sweat at all.
When their breathing has slowed she gently disentangles her limbs from his, dresses, and leaves without turning the light back on. He tells himself he should go after her, but he’s too exhausted to move. He is asleep before her footsteps fade in the corridor.
[] [] []
At the end of another CAP Lee looks over and sees the nuggets come in for a landing. He hails Galactica. “Dee, I’m taking one more pass.”
“Copy that, Apollo. Everything look OK out there?”
“All clear. Just - something I wanted to check on.” He switches the feed, ship-to-ship. “Starbuck, fly with me.”
“Roger that, Apollo.” She sounds sullen; he’d put her back on the schedule with him, without explanation.
He pulls back, swings away from Galactica so they are on the side away from the observation deck - not that anyone would be up there at this hour - and heads for the perimeter of the fleet.
“What’s up?”
“Oh - following my instincts.” With that, he swings out into a wide pass, to make sure she has her eye on him, then dives into the heart of the fleet. Over the comm he hears her exasperated huff; then she puts on speed and catches up to him.
Lee dips behind a freighter, taking her on a cat-and-mouse chase between the ships. They sweep through the ranks as if they were running the Fanari canyons. They fly wordlessly, putting each other through their paces, and when they reach the far edge of the fleet she pulls ahead and yanks her Viper into a dizzying, flawless spiral above Galactica. He recognizes the maneuver and aims his ship through the ascending circles she is describing. One bat-tle-star, two bat-tle-star… He counts the seconds till he hits the top, levels out and then, as he drifts down, he hears her low, pleased chuckle.
“I was wondering if you’d remember that,” she says, and he can hear her smile.
“Yeah, took me a second,” he admits.
“Comin’ up on bingo fuel,” she says, and he silences a sigh. It wasn’t really a waste of fuel, he tells himself - pilots need to keep their skills sharp. At least Tigh’s not on duty; he’s the only one likely to call them on it.
Starbuck interrupts his thoughts. “We haven’t done that in a while.”
He laughs. “You’re welcome.”
When they land Tyrol gives him a look but doesn’t say anything. Lee finishes his post-flight check and descends to find Kara leaning against the foot of the ladder. He raises an eyebrow. She straightens, takes his arm, and they walk back to quarters in silence.
[] [] []
Racetrack.
Kelly.
Dee.
Lee wonders if there shouldn’t be some mark you wear to signify whether you’re staying or going, a green circle or a blue stripe. But he doesn’t know where the materials would come from for making the new insignia, nor who would volunteer to put them together, when they’re all so busy sorting through the tedious and utterly necessary details of dividing the fleet into two. So he keeps the list in his head, ticking off names as he reconciles his guesses with people’s answers or evasive glances. As long as he occupies himself with keeping accurate count then he won’t have to think about who he’ll miss most.
He reviews the reasons for splitting up - he came up with most of them, after all. It makes total sense, they can extend the distance they can cover with the fuel they have left, leave the malcontents behind and limit the number of ships they have to cover on patrol - but even though intellectually he understands the rationale, still he feels a tiny sense of betrayal, the feeling that Galactica committed to protecting all the survivors, not just the ones who want to see Earth.
He’s tired and cranky, but he shakes it off - this isn’t anywhere near as bad as the Cylon attacks every 33 minutes - and refocuses on the task at hand, that of loading of yet another shipment of supplies for the new colony. In addition to being CAG, this week he’s also head of security, chief requisitions officer, and civilian liaison. When he looks in the mirror he feels like he’s aged ten years in the last month. Kara likes to tease him about the asymmetrical wrinkle he gets between his eyes when he’s worried, but he hates that it’s gotten deeper, wonders in his vainer moments if he’ll end up looking like the Commander after all.
He hears footsteps behind him and finds Tyrol waiting to speak to him. “Chief.”
“Major.”
The man looks vaguely uneasy, Lee notes. “Everything all right, Chief?”
“- Sir.” He looks down, taps his bunched fingers together in a nervous gesture. “Well. I’m not sure how to start this, so. - I just wanted to let you know that I’ve decided to stay on with the colony.”
Lee respects the Chief enough not to hide his reaction. “Wow. Congratulations, Chief. You’ll be missed here.” He eyes him curiously - checking for doubt, maybe, or apprehension. “Is that final? No second thoughts or convincing we can do?”
“No, sir. Cally… I’ve taught her everything I know.” Tyrol actually scuffs his feet and looks over at the loading activity. “I love my work - it’s all I’ve had since - “he spreads his hands. “But now I have a chance to do what I do best in a new place, with no reminders.” He looks back at Lee, smiles. “Vipers, tractors… it’s all the same.”
Lee is a little awed by the excitement in the Chief’s eyes. Tyrol’s departure will raise a lot of logistical issues, but somehow it’s not the time to go over those. “Thanks for everything, Chief.” He shifts his paperwork to his left hand and honors the NCO with a precise salute.
Something bubbles up inside him as he watches the Chief walk away. He lets the unfamiliar feeling come into focus. Before he can scare it away with over-analysis he gets on his feet. You never let your instincts take over. “Well, this time I am,” he tells the echo of his father in his head.
He’s on his way to find her when - wham, she crashes into him in the hall as if he had conjured her. He takes her by the arm more roughly than he’d intended, and tells her, “We need to talk.”
“Let go, Lee.”
“Sorry,” he mutters, releasing her, and she pushes past him into a storeroom.
“What, here?” he says, and she rounds on him, barely waiting for the hatch to close.
“Spit it out. You’re leaving,” she says, and it isn’t a question.
“What? No,” and he can’t believe how inane he sounds, all “wha?” and “huh?”
“I get it, Lee. The farewell frak, the long looks, the fancy flying. ‘Goodbye, Starbuck. Goodbye, Galactica.’ Well, let me put you out of your misery - no teary scenes with this girl. Thanks for flying with me, Lee - have a nice life.” She charges past him. He has just enough sense left to put an arm out and grab her.
“Whoa. What the frak? Slow down, Kara.”
She switches tactics, but the anger still cuts through her voice. “Look, go find a nice girl, settle down on your little farm and have lots of babies, okay? Name one after me.”
“You know, I am sick and tired of other people knowing what I want before I do! I don’t want another girl, Kara, I have you. Or at least I hope I do.”
“I can’t be your girl, Lee - I don’t want to be a politician’s wife, and I don’t want kids. You should go. You should go down to the planet and be with someone who wants all those things.”
“Kara-“ Lee’s head hurts. He wants to shake her, or hit something. “Kara - what have we been doing for the last year and a half? All the other stuff - that’s all hypothetical. I’m not going into politics. I don’t want ki-“ He stops.
“Yeah,” she says bitterly, at the same moment that he says, “- I don’t know if I want kids.”
“Look, I came to tell you that I’ve made up my mind. I’m sticking with Galactica. I’m staying with you, Kara.”
“Thanks, but don’t stay on my account.”
“Kara, it’s all on your acc-“
“It doesn’t work, Lee. Just go,” she repeats, and when he tries and fails to find something to say to her that will convince her, she takes her own advice and flees.
[] [] []
He would like nothing better than to chase her down and pin her to his bunk, make her understand without words what his choice is and why, but she would probably lash out like a wounded animal. Gods, he’s made such a hash of this.
He’s still got a call to make to Gray, to go over the escort schedule he drew up.
“… and , Major? Did you think about the offer I made? I meant it when I said I could use someone with operational experience.”
“Yes, sir. And no, sir.” He says it before he thinks about his answer, and when he hears his own words, he doesn’t want to take them back.
“Does that mean-“
“I’m staying with Galactica, sir.” He’s always known the answer, he just wanted to flirt with other possibilities. Lee, you rogue. Is this as exciting as your life gets these days? Getting everyone you love mad at you, just because you can? Well, hopefully, he’ll have time to persuade Kara of his sincerity. If she doesn’t go planetside just to spite him.
“Well, Major Adama, it will be the colony’s loss and Galactica’s gain.”
“Thank you, sir. I - don’t deny it would be satisfying to help set up the colony, but if we ever get to where we’re going they’ll need help there too.”
“Too true, Major. Gods speed you on your way… we all want to find home, wherever that may be.”
[] [] []
Lee hits the bag hard, but he’s so tired that he misses a step and the bag slams into him, knocks him to his knees. Rather than get up he sits down on the ground, holding his head between his gloved hands and hoping that the world will magically right itself when he looks up.
He feels rather than hears footsteps beside him. She doesn’t say anything, but there isn’t anyone else who would sit shoulder to shoulder with him.
“Everything okay?” she says, finally.
He lets out a despairing snort. “My best friend’s mad at me and wants me to go away and never come back.”
“Maybe she thinks you’ll be better off without her.”
“We tried that already - she left, I left; we saw other people; I went to another ship; I tried dying…” she touches his arm, briefly, “-but I can’t seem to be happy without her.”
He sneaks a peek over his shoulder when she doesn’t respond right away. She’s twisting her fingers and her brow is furrowed like she’s struggling to figure something out.
“What about kids, Lee?”
“What about them?”
“I don’t want them. You know that.”
“I don’t know if I’ll want them, Kara. I don’t even know if I’ll be around tomorrow! And for all I know, someone’s already repopulating the Fleet with my genes, thanks to the gene bank - so if all I want is to pass my bone structure and eye color along to the next generation, that’s taken care of.”
“You forgot to mention your towering stature and mad Triad skills.”
“Ha ha.” He shakes his head, glances at her again as he strips his gloves off. “What about me? Do you want me, Kara? Or is it just that you have a thing for Adamas?"
She’s not so far gone that she can’t see past the jibe to the real question. “You’re not a replacement for Zak.”
“No? ”
“He made me laugh, Lee. He loved me and I… Frak! We were other people then. Why do we have to go through all this now?” She stands up and starts pacing, pushing the bag so it swings perilously close to Lee’s head.
“We’d never get to it otherwise. Haven’t, in a year and a half,” he points out.
She closes her eyes in exasperation. “Zak is not the point. Do you really want to give up a shot at building the world, just for endless CAP rotations?”
“Kara, it’s too hard to think about this as the rest of my life. I just - I just want to be around next week when Gaeta wins his socks back from you. I want to figure out how to beat my father at sparring. I want to wake up next to you in the morning.”
She looks away, bites her lip. “Frakkin’ idiot,” she swears under her breath, and he isn’t sure if she’s talking to him or to herself. She hits the bag a few times and seems to make up her mind. For a moment she is hidden behind the apparatus and when she reappears she thrusts her fist at him. “Marry me,” she dares him.
Lee doesn’t need to open her palm to know what she’s handing him. He looks at her, sees her waiting to be hurt again. Dontfrakthisupdontfrakthisup. “Any day. “ He lets out a slow exhale. “But you know I don’t need this from you.”
“We need to move forward, Lee. You’re right, we’ve done this dance too many times. I don’t want Zak coming between us and you - you should know where I stand. So take it, stupid,” she hisses, shaking her fist again.
Lee gets up, never taking his eyes off her. “He gave it to you,” he says, closing the gap between them, closing his hand over hers. “What’s a piece of metal going to tell me, that I haven’t already figured out?”
She won’t look at him, turns her head as he grazes her jaw with a kiss. “You should have something,” she mutters.
“To what? Make up for choosing you?” he cajoles, pulling her stiff body against him. “Idiot. I did get something. I win,” he says, kissing her forehead. “And you can’t pay me for staying, it’s a gift.”
“Lee Adama, the gods’ gift to women,” she grumbles, but he feels rather than sees the dampness on her cheekbone, the smile she tucks away.
“Just one woman.”
“Damn you, Lee. I never wanted to give you this choice.”
“Not yours to give.” He reaches up to cup her cheek.
“Are you going to resent me when we’re three star systems away from here and the Cylons are kicking your a-“
“Shhhh.”
“I was going to knock you out and throw you on a Raptor and take you down myself.”
“Actually, I thought you might pull a stunt like that, so I had every last knuckledragger bribed to page me the moment you set foot on the hangar deck.”
“So that’s why Cally was so helpful. I almost decked her.”
“Temper, temper. Aren’t you saving it for the superior assholes any more?”
Her mood changes like mercury. “Running out of superiors,” she says, and her eyes are endless depths.
He smiles, to coax her back to the lighter mood. “’S’why I’m staying,” he tells her.
“Okay, fine. But I want this to be official, dammit,” she insists, sticking her chin out. “Incense and everything.”
“Gods. Fine. What is so godsdamned important about going through the motions, anyway? Not like you’ve ever cared about what other people think before. ”
“Is that a yes?”
“Frak yes.”
[] [] []
The lamplight is soft on their faces, warm on Galactica’s cold metal walls and floor. Lee pauses to look, really look at her. He wants to memorize every detail. She is Aphrodite: hair glimmering, eyes unfathomable, promising trouble or tenderness, he’s never sure. But she is also Artemis, his heart’s twin, the huntress, and impatient to get on with the chase. So he reaches out to touch her face, meet her wicked grin - ah, that tongue tip caught in the corner of her mouth - and gives her a kiss for the ages.
The applause startles him, even though there are just three people in attendance. They turn to greet their witnesses - only his father, Helo, and the priest, as Kara wanted - and glance back at each other with disbelieving eyes. His father hugs him - one of the few times he’s sure he’s pleased him - and then reaches out an arm to draw Kara in as well.
Lee grabs the bottle of ambrosia as they walk out of his father’s quarters. He’s not really sure where they’re headed but is happy to float along in everyone’s wake. They emerge onto the bridge above the hangar bay and he is still trying to process that they are actually married, when a wave of sound stops him in his tracks.
Practically the entire crew of Galactica is below them, clapping, whistling, and stomping their feet. It takes him a moment to understand the rhythmic chant and when he turns to Kara he sees the same dazed joy that must be on his face. He pulls her to him and dips her in a stage-worthy move, giving the cheering crowd what they’re clamoring for.
[] [] []
She is on the observation deck drinking in the view of the gleaming orb above them. The portal dwarfs her, as if she were a child looking up at an aquarium. He comes up behind her and leans into her back, hands on either side of the window ledge.
`
“Hey.” He rests his cheek on her hair and breathes her in. They are both in their dress uniforms; the leave-taking ceremony ended an hour ago.
“Hey.” They admire the scene , recalling the contours of a faraway planet. Lee traces a peninsula on the glass. “That bit looks like the coast off Delphi.”
“Mmmm. They have some pretty spectacular beaches down there.”
“Planning a career as a beach bum?”
Kara laughs, shakes her head. “I was just thinking what fun it was to swim again.” She closes her eyes and tilts her head back briefly, recalling the posture of sun worship. “I’m too pale to spend that much time planetside.”
“That you are.” He presses his lips to the faint constellation of moles that interrupt her fair skin, at cheek and jaw and throat. “I’m sure they’ll invent sunscreen pretty quickly.”
Around them, the observation deck is starting to fill up. Lee skims his hand down her arm and brushes over the inky circle on her third finger. She turns to face him, curling her fingers in protectively.
“Stings?” he says, catching her hand up again and pressing a kiss on the new tattoo. For a moment he recalls when she got it, listening to her crack jokes over the buzz of the pen. Somehow that seems like their real wedding ceremony, more so than the formal ritual in his father’s quarters.
“Just a little raw.”
“Seems all I’m good for is inflicting pain on you,” he teases, and finds his smile trapped against her palm.
“Shhh,” she chides him. “I still mean to make my mark on you someday,” she smirks, “ ‘Property of Starbuck,’ right here,” tracing a line across his forehead.
“You’ve got several hundred light-years to try, anyway,” he informs her. “And then you get to be a politician’s wife.”
“Oh yeah? Who says you’re not the trophy wife? You’re prettier than I am.”
“Damn straight,” he laughs, his admiring gaze belying his words. “So beautiful,” he says as he kisses her temple.
“Shut up, wife,” she commands. “We’ve got things to do before we can blow this station.” She takes his hand and sets a course through the crowds gawking at the new world. Lee follows: content, for now, to fly in her wake.
The Wild Rose
By Wendell Berry
Sometimes hidden from me
in daily custom and in trust,
so that I live by you unaware
as by the beating of my heart,
Suddenly you flare in my sight,
a wild rose blooming at the edge
of thicket, grace and light
where yesterday was only shade,
and once again I am blessed, choosing
again what I chose before.
~ fin~
Title: Elect
Author: indigo419
Rating: R for implied sexual situations
Pairing: Lee/Kara
Spoilers: Some spoilers for second half of season 2, though mainly I’m making guesses about what will happen in the future. [written during the hiatus between S2.0 - Pegasus, September 2005, and S2.5 - Rez Ship, January 2006]
Summary: Lee has to make some decisions.
Disclaimer: Just playing in Ron Moore's 'verse.
Futurefic, set about a year and a half after S2. Definitely AU after 2.13. x-posted to beyond_insane
Subsequently posted to bsg2003fics
[bsg fic] Elect
Apollo: Ahh, Galactica, Apollo. Mission... accomplished. You can tell Dr. Baltar he was right on the money. It's one hell of a fireworks show. And there's plenty of ore for us back in the canyon, once this place is history.
Starbuck (to Roslin, after hugging her): Sorry, Madam President, I'm sorry.
Roslin: No need to apologize, Lieutenant. Thanks to you, we have enough fuel to last us a few years.
[] [] []
Lee leans back and tries to remember what he’d hoped to become, before the world came to an end. It certainly wasn’t chief babysitter for deep-space refueling operations. The mission’s simple enough, but after the debacle with Birch, the Commander is not inclined to take any more chances with such a precious resource. Still, it’s a struggle to stay focused.
He sighs and falls back on a favorite pastime, thinking of names for the bar he’d wanted to open back on Caprica. Dionysia. Amphora. Caroline’s. Well, his elegant, proper mother surely would have hated having a bar named after her if she’d been alive - he’s not sure she’d appreciate it even in memoriam. Colonel Tigh’s Top Drawer. Tigh One On.
“- that right, Major?”
Frak. He’s worse than a nugget, spacing out while millions of tons of fuel flow past his head. “Affirmative, captain,” he replies to the tanker’s skipper, “we’re taking on less than last month.”
“Bad credit, eh? Or is the President rationing Galactica’s supply now?” The captain laughs at his own bad jokes. He’s a good sort, Apollo knows from innumerable resupplies.
“You know rationing’s a bad word, Tank.” He hopes his voice carries the right note of inside humor and hint of command. “Nah, Galactica’s just setting a good example. “
As he glides in after the mission Lee thinks about the fuel situation. Since he signs off on all combat fuel consumption reports he’s well aware of how low the reserves are - had figured out even before they left the remains of the Cylons’ mining operation that they would have to make some hard decisions at some point. But even a simple man like the tanker captain can do the math by now, and word gets around quickly.
His office - really a single-person bunkroom, with a desk crammed into it - is dark when he enters, but he knows where all the furniture is and crosses the room to his locker in exactly three strides. Having divested himself of his flight suit, he flips on the switch in the head to brush his teeth.
A growl from the bunk. “- the frakking light out.”
He laughs, props the door open wider with his foot. “Spoiled,” he says, around a mouthful of toothpaste. “To think you used to sleep in a room with ten bunkmates.” In the light that spills past him he can see she has a pillow on top of her head.
“Shut up. Sleeping,” she says through the pillow.
His ablutions completed, he snaps off the light again and pushes her over so he can get under the covers. Kara scoots over automatically, but lets out a muffled squawk when he grabs her waist with cold hands. “Didn’t you used to like it when I’d come in after CAP and sneak it into you?” he whispers lasciviously.
“You’re depraved,” she complains, but snuggles into him nevertheless.
“So nice and warm,” he murmurs, and slides his icy hand down her stomach, between her thighs.
“Frak, Lee!” But she turns over and settles her breasts more snugly against his chest, and doesn’t protest when he begins to move insistently against her.
[] [] []
“Thanks for tuning in to WCOL, your source for Colonial news around the clock. In today’s news: The Quorum of Twelve enters a second week of debate concerning the partition of the Fleet. Meanwhile, demonstrations are forming on both Cloud Nine and the Gideon, and prayer rallies have been announced for all ships. So far, none of the protests have turned violent, but aboard Cloud Nine the pro-Earth and the colonist groups have exchanged angry words. The Quorum has sought to defuse the situation…”
“We should just ditch the losers,” Kara says, still grumpy from a hangover. Lee shoots her a look.
“That’s what got us into this mess in the first place. The press misinterpreted remarks from a closed Quorum session, and now people think we’re trying to offload the undesirables.” Kara squeezes past him to the desk and he takes the opportunity to straighten her wayward jacket collar.
“No one’s forcing anyone to leave,” Kara grouses, and Lee corrects her.
“No one’s leaving - nothing’s been decided.”
“Yet.”
He sighs. “Yet.”
“It’s the only logical solution! We can’t extend our fuel forever, and half the people are ready to mutiny if we don’t find Earth by next week. I say leave them behind, and add their fuel to our reserves.”
“First of all, even if we did split the Fleet, we haven’t even identified a likely solar system. Second, whatever gets decided has to be by unanimous vote and getting to that will take all the way to Earth.” Lee busies himself digging through the overcrowded locker. The lockers were never designed to hold more than one person’s belongings, and as meager as their wardrobes are, there’s still not enough room to hang two sets of uniforms without wrinkling.
Behind him there is silence. Kara is almost never quiet, except maybe on recon. He straightens up against the pressure of her eyes on his back and turns to meet her gaze. “What?”
“’We haven’t identified a likely solar system.’ Which means you’ve been looking for one. So, really, nothing’s been decided yet?” She sets her booted foot on the chair and ties her laces swiftly, the snap of her movements becoming more pronounced as her temper rises. “Nice to know the President’s already made up his mind. When were you going to tell me, Lee? Or the rest of the Fleet, for that matter?”
“Kara, it’s not like that. We’re just thinking ahead - thinking through different scenarios,” he amends, as he sees her eyes narrow. “We just started discussing this option.”
“When, yesterday? Or last week?” Her lips tighten at his silence.
“Great. Democracy at work. Not to mention trust,” she snaps. “So when they split up the Fleet, are you staying behind with President Gray?”
Lee blinks - always, Starbuck is ahead of him, in this no less than in combat. “I - hadn’t thought about it,” he admits.
She eyes him for a beat, nodding to herself. Then she walks out.
“I was going to tell you,” Lee mutters, and kicks the locker door savagely.
[] [] []
Despite the alert tedium that being on security detail entails, Lee is happy to volunteer for this one, as long as it gets him off Galactica. Lee scans the ranks of the delegates for anything out of the ordinary. Sometimes he thinks he might like to be one of them - after all, being a representative for any one of the Colonies these days is closer to being mayor of a small town than the planet-wide responsibility it used to be. He could manage that, couldn’t he?
Tom Zarek is working the crowd as if he was student council president. Though Lee keeps a wary eye on Zarek, he is fascinated by his machinations. The man really is a master manipulator. For a man with a reputation as a rebel, he is remarkably urbane, at ease with hicks and socialites alike.
“Apollo, son of -“
“- son of Zeus,” Lee mutters in concert, as Zarek walks by.
Zarek nods towards the speaker at the front of the room. “You should be up there. Be a damn sight better than him.”
Lee nods noncommittally. He’s wary of Zarek’s flattery (the man foments plots within plots, just out of habit) but he has to admit the thought’s crossed his mind. The Aerilon delegate raises his shrill voice. Unfortunate that the pool of candidates from his colony was so small. Lee’s not the best public speaker - Kara likes the limelight more than he does - but he’s comfortable with command.
The assembly breaks up. On a whim, Lee ducks out and heads towards the living quarters. He hasn’t been on a civilian ship in a while and he misses the reminder that life is more than just military ops and endless shifts. He walks past a mess hall: empty. Gym: empty. As he rounds a corner he hears singing down another hall, and follows the sound to a room full of giggly preschoolers , bright as a flock of birds. Lee leans against the wall and watches the class until the children line up and troop off for recess.
[] [] []
When he gets back from the Quorum meeting Lee finds a message from the Commander waiting. “See me in my quarters,” is all it says.
The Commander’s door is ajar, per usual. Lee barely gets a knock in before he hears “Come in,” and that clairvoyance of his, too, is usual. His father is seated at his desk in front of a model ship. By now he’s probably taken to disassembling old models and putting them back together, given the dearth of craft stores in space.
“Are you staying on Galactica, son?” At least he’s spared Lee a preamble.
As much practice as he’s had, Lee hates disappointing his father. This isn’t - disappointment, exactly, but still… “Probably,” he says.
The Old Man’s face doesn’t change, and that’s telling, too. Not for the first time Lee notes the similarities between Kara and his father. Neither of them ask for anything - it’s theirs by right or not at all. He fights the urge to shift from foot to foot. “I’ll let you know,” he offers. “Will that be all, sir?”
The Commander holds his gaze a moment longer. “Yes. Thank you.”
[] [] []
He hasn’t seen Kara since she stormed out of their quarters, and if he knows her at all she probably won’t turn up till well after he’s gone to bed. Best to give Kara time to be angry, she’s actually more civil after she’s had time to stomp around.
He’s not quite sure why she’s so angry - given his job, there are frequently things she isn’t privileged to know - but he senses this is the start of a freeze-out. It’s been a while since he’s gotten the silent treatment. When they have personal issues they tend to settle things quickly, with either fists or frakking. It’s when his civilian and military personas intersect that Kara gets pissy for days, and for reasons she keeps to herself, Kara hasn’t complained much about his advisory role since Laura’s passing.
Truth be told, lately he’s missed the tumultuous first phase of their relationship. He’s been known to goad Kara into fighting, purely to see her eyes flash.
Now, though, he just misses her, even though on any normal day they’d easily go this long without talking. He hates leaving things on a raw note. Plus, he likes to hear Kara mock the day’s events. It relaxes him. “How is the fatuous gasbag today?” So Lee goes in search of her, even though he knows she’ll probably ignore him or piss him off.
As he passes the rec room he hears voices - Triad, so early? - and then the sound forms into familiar laughter, hers and yes, Helo’s. He freezes, thinks about backing up and walking away: he doesn’t want to know, doesn’t want to see her smile at anyone else tonight.
Too late. He hears footsteps approaching the corridor, and looks up to see Helo grabbing her wrists, and pulling them away from his waist. “No, Kara, I’m not!”
Kara is facing Helo, hasn’t realized Lee is there. “C’mon, Helooo!” She pauses when Helo looks up at the newcomer, and then the shutter drops over her features. “Oh, hey.”
“Major.” Helo nods, releases Starbuck’s wrists.
“Lieutenant.”
“Uh.” Lee raises an eyebrow. “Dinner?” He looks at her, then at the Raptor pilot, who isn’t half so dumb.
“Thanks. Gotta run.” Helo bows out, ignoring Kara’s blazing look, and ducks through the hatchway.
He waits. She puts a hand on her hip. “Well? Made any decisions yet?”
Lee sets his jaw, holds his hands up to forestall the accusation in her gaze.
Her mouth twists. “Don’t wait up.”
He does, anyway, to no avail.
[] [] []
Papers. Papers rustling. Diagrams and whiteboards. Since when did a pilot’s life involve so much writing?
“I understand the basic premise, but what’s to keep the Cylons from swooping in as we finish offloading - or after we leave - and wiping the colonists out?” President Gray waves a hand at the board.
“Well, sir, we don’t exactly have any guarantees, but we know that they’ve been attacking less frequently as we get further away from home. Could be they’re finding it harder to support these long-range attacks, or they’re toying with us and they want us to survive. Either way, that gives us a bigger window of time to drop off the colonists and get away without them realizing what we’ve done. And if they are just playing with us, then the colonists have the same chances of survival the Fleet does. Possibly more, if you support the guerrilla strategy.”
Gray raises an eyebrow. “Explain the guerrilla strategy again.”
Lee politely reviews the scenario, reminding himself that Gray’s bureaucratic career never prepared him to become military commander-in-chief. “Sir. The idea is that the colony maintains a low profile - scattered communities blending into the terrain, minimal technology - to be as invisible and unappealing as possible to the Cylons. We’re so far away from their base of operations that they’re probably uninterested in taking over an insignificant human outpost.”
“And this way we split up the targets. Two chances to evade the Cylons, rather than one. “
“That’s correct. And the Fleet becomes more nimble, since we have more fuel and fewer ships to escort.”
The President looks thoughtful. “Have we decided whether to leave the colony with any tyllium?”
“Only enough to get to the surface. Once they arrive they’ll need to scuttle the ships to avoid being tracked via their power cores.”
“Ditch perfectly good ships. Hmm.”
“Yes, sir. Well, you could remove the cores, and use the ships for parts, but if the people cluster around the ships it will make them more conspicuous and less mobile.”
“It’ll take some convincing to get them to embrace this guerilla strategy of yours.”
Lee has to smile at that. “Not mine, sir. Just a basic military concept.”
Gray isn’t really listening to him, Lee realizes. “You went to War College, didn’t you, Major?”
“Yes, sir.”
“We could use some people with leadership skills, planetside.”
Lee blinks at this. Buys some time. “Does that mean you’re staying on with the colonists, Mr. President?”
A wry smile. “It looks like a little more than half the population want to stay, so that’s where my place is. Plus, I’d like to get off this tin can.”
“It’ll be a big change from the comforts of Colonial One.”
Gray laughs, brushes his suit dismissively. “Trappings of power notwithstanding, I used to love camping, when I was a kid.” Not to be distracted, he turns back to Lee. “How about it, Major? Fresh air, a chance to build your own legacy -“ shrewd glance, there - “and something other than the prospect of being shot down every fourteen hours.”
Suddenly Lee is very tired. Tired of other people presuming to understand everything between him and his father. He flashes back to Laura Roslin and the faint amusement in her eyes, even when she was manipulating you. Lee cracks his neck, not meeting Gray’s eyes. “Not much for civilization-building, myself - I’m just a pilot,” he says.
Gray is politician enough to know when he’s strayed too far. “Well, Major, I think we’re done for the moment. You should get some rest.”
Lee rises to his feet. “I’ll get the civilian escort schedule to you tomorrow, sir.”
[] [] []
Everyone is on edge, though they don’t admit it. Even though this has been debated for months, it’s always been a mirage in the distance, a day no one believed would come. Now they all have new roles to play, duties to divide, farewells to say, and it’s difficult to comprehend that this will be irrevocable. In a way it’s like getting a do-over on the end of the world, except the first time no one saw it coming and so there was no sense of dread. Now everyone knows what the stakes are.
[] [] []
They’ve been in orbit three days. Time to pull the trigger, if they’re to avoid attracting Cylon attention.
The Commander takes his glasses off and rubs the bridge of his nose. “The Quorum understands that this is irrevocable? No military support, except those who choose to stay. No off-world transport. No communication, once we leave. No second chances.”
President Gray nods. “People are restless. If we didn’t set down here, a lot of them would break away, anyway. Better to keep this controlled.” He sighs. “With Laura gone…” He spreads his hands, shrugs. “Not everyone has the faith -“ he catches Adama’s eye, changes what he was going to say - “or the fortitude to keep going.”
Adama grunts. “I’m not a religious man. But I’d rather be a moving target.”
The President looks at Lee. He has nothing to add, so they move on to logistics.
[] [] []
Kara is not in the bunkroom when Lee gets off duty. They haven’t talked much in the last week, since she asked him if he was staying on with the colonists. She hasn’t gone back to the pilots’ bunkroom, for which he’s grateful, but she’s switched shifts on him so they’re rarely in a room together.
There hasn’t been time, anyway - since they want to transfer the colonists before the Cylons catch wind of the plan, they are cramming the transition schedule into less than a week. So, no morning runs, no joint workouts. But the tension between them is just an added weight on his shoulders when he walks from one meeting to the next. An added strain, in the way he cocks his ear to hear her laughter as he passes the wardroom.
Right now he’s just tired - tired of fighting, of keeping up appearances - and he’s hopeful that maybe Kara will cut him a break. Isn’t that what friends do for each other? Friends. Friend. Girlfriend. It’s ironic, all this time frakking each other, bunking together, and they still can’t put a label to what they are to each other.
She isn’t in the rec room, or on the hangar deck, either. He heads for the gym, and is reassured to hear the steady thwap-thwap-thwap of the speed bag. He waits till she turns to face the door, so as not to interrupt her rhythm.
“Hey.”
“Hey.”
He nods. Tests the waters. “Will I see you tonight?”
She lets up on the bag, and what she sees in his face must persuade her that he’s desperate. Or something.
“Ten more minutes.”
He’s still in his dress grays when she walks in, staring at the mountain of release forms on his desk. Every name is that of a friend, someone else to say goodbye to.
Kara takes him in at a glance. She crosses the room to him and pushes him down into his chair; undoes his jacket as if he were a child. Kneels and unlaces his boots. Hands him his sweats and he takes them mechanically, gratefully accepting her direction.
She turns the light out and pulls him towards the narrow bunk. For a moment he’s content just to hold her. But then she runs her hand down his arm and something snaps, he lets go and allows himself to take the comfort she’s offering. He’s quick and not nice and all the while she holds him, never stops making wordless oddly soothing sounds in his ear and when he comes, shuddering and wracked, she runs her fingers through his hair for long minutes, never mentioning the salt damp on her shoulder that isn’t her sweat at all.
When their breathing has slowed she gently disentangles her limbs from his, dresses, and leaves without turning the light back on. He tells himself he should go after her, but he’s too exhausted to move. He is asleep before her footsteps fade in the corridor.
[] [] []
At the end of another CAP Lee looks over and sees the nuggets come in for a landing. He hails Galactica. “Dee, I’m taking one more pass.”
“Copy that, Apollo. Everything look OK out there?”
“All clear. Just - something I wanted to check on.” He switches the feed, ship-to-ship. “Starbuck, fly with me.”
“Roger that, Apollo.” She sounds sullen; he’d put her back on the schedule with him, without explanation.
He pulls back, swings away from Galactica so they are on the side away from the observation deck - not that anyone would be up there at this hour - and heads for the perimeter of the fleet.
“What’s up?”
“Oh - following my instincts.” With that, he swings out into a wide pass, to make sure she has her eye on him, then dives into the heart of the fleet. Over the comm he hears her exasperated huff; then she puts on speed and catches up to him.
Lee dips behind a freighter, taking her on a cat-and-mouse chase between the ships. They sweep through the ranks as if they were running the Fanari canyons. They fly wordlessly, putting each other through their paces, and when they reach the far edge of the fleet she pulls ahead and yanks her Viper into a dizzying, flawless spiral above Galactica. He recognizes the maneuver and aims his ship through the ascending circles she is describing. One bat-tle-star, two bat-tle-star… He counts the seconds till he hits the top, levels out and then, as he drifts down, he hears her low, pleased chuckle.
“I was wondering if you’d remember that,” she says, and he can hear her smile.
“Yeah, took me a second,” he admits.
“Comin’ up on bingo fuel,” she says, and he silences a sigh. It wasn’t really a waste of fuel, he tells himself - pilots need to keep their skills sharp. At least Tigh’s not on duty; he’s the only one likely to call them on it.
Starbuck interrupts his thoughts. “We haven’t done that in a while.”
He laughs. “You’re welcome.”
When they land Tyrol gives him a look but doesn’t say anything. Lee finishes his post-flight check and descends to find Kara leaning against the foot of the ladder. He raises an eyebrow. She straightens, takes his arm, and they walk back to quarters in silence.
[] [] []
Racetrack.
Kelly.
Dee.
Lee wonders if there shouldn’t be some mark you wear to signify whether you’re staying or going, a green circle or a blue stripe. But he doesn’t know where the materials would come from for making the new insignia, nor who would volunteer to put them together, when they’re all so busy sorting through the tedious and utterly necessary details of dividing the fleet into two. So he keeps the list in his head, ticking off names as he reconciles his guesses with people’s answers or evasive glances. As long as he occupies himself with keeping accurate count then he won’t have to think about who he’ll miss most.
He reviews the reasons for splitting up - he came up with most of them, after all. It makes total sense, they can extend the distance they can cover with the fuel they have left, leave the malcontents behind and limit the number of ships they have to cover on patrol - but even though intellectually he understands the rationale, still he feels a tiny sense of betrayal, the feeling that Galactica committed to protecting all the survivors, not just the ones who want to see Earth.
He’s tired and cranky, but he shakes it off - this isn’t anywhere near as bad as the Cylon attacks every 33 minutes - and refocuses on the task at hand, that of loading of yet another shipment of supplies for the new colony. In addition to being CAG, this week he’s also head of security, chief requisitions officer, and civilian liaison. When he looks in the mirror he feels like he’s aged ten years in the last month. Kara likes to tease him about the asymmetrical wrinkle he gets between his eyes when he’s worried, but he hates that it’s gotten deeper, wonders in his vainer moments if he’ll end up looking like the Commander after all.
He hears footsteps behind him and finds Tyrol waiting to speak to him. “Chief.”
“Major.”
The man looks vaguely uneasy, Lee notes. “Everything all right, Chief?”
“- Sir.” He looks down, taps his bunched fingers together in a nervous gesture. “Well. I’m not sure how to start this, so. - I just wanted to let you know that I’ve decided to stay on with the colony.”
Lee respects the Chief enough not to hide his reaction. “Wow. Congratulations, Chief. You’ll be missed here.” He eyes him curiously - checking for doubt, maybe, or apprehension. “Is that final? No second thoughts or convincing we can do?”
“No, sir. Cally… I’ve taught her everything I know.” Tyrol actually scuffs his feet and looks over at the loading activity. “I love my work - it’s all I’ve had since - “he spreads his hands. “But now I have a chance to do what I do best in a new place, with no reminders.” He looks back at Lee, smiles. “Vipers, tractors… it’s all the same.”
Lee is a little awed by the excitement in the Chief’s eyes. Tyrol’s departure will raise a lot of logistical issues, but somehow it’s not the time to go over those. “Thanks for everything, Chief.” He shifts his paperwork to his left hand and honors the NCO with a precise salute.
Something bubbles up inside him as he watches the Chief walk away. He lets the unfamiliar feeling come into focus. Before he can scare it away with over-analysis he gets on his feet. You never let your instincts take over. “Well, this time I am,” he tells the echo of his father in his head.
He’s on his way to find her when - wham, she crashes into him in the hall as if he had conjured her. He takes her by the arm more roughly than he’d intended, and tells her, “We need to talk.”
“Let go, Lee.”
“Sorry,” he mutters, releasing her, and she pushes past him into a storeroom.
“What, here?” he says, and she rounds on him, barely waiting for the hatch to close.
“Spit it out. You’re leaving,” she says, and it isn’t a question.
“What? No,” and he can’t believe how inane he sounds, all “wha?” and “huh?”
“I get it, Lee. The farewell frak, the long looks, the fancy flying. ‘Goodbye, Starbuck. Goodbye, Galactica.’ Well, let me put you out of your misery - no teary scenes with this girl. Thanks for flying with me, Lee - have a nice life.” She charges past him. He has just enough sense left to put an arm out and grab her.
“Whoa. What the frak? Slow down, Kara.”
She switches tactics, but the anger still cuts through her voice. “Look, go find a nice girl, settle down on your little farm and have lots of babies, okay? Name one after me.”
“You know, I am sick and tired of other people knowing what I want before I do! I don’t want another girl, Kara, I have you. Or at least I hope I do.”
“I can’t be your girl, Lee - I don’t want to be a politician’s wife, and I don’t want kids. You should go. You should go down to the planet and be with someone who wants all those things.”
“Kara-“ Lee’s head hurts. He wants to shake her, or hit something. “Kara - what have we been doing for the last year and a half? All the other stuff - that’s all hypothetical. I’m not going into politics. I don’t want ki-“ He stops.
“Yeah,” she says bitterly, at the same moment that he says, “- I don’t know if I want kids.”
“Look, I came to tell you that I’ve made up my mind. I’m sticking with Galactica. I’m staying with you, Kara.”
“Thanks, but don’t stay on my account.”
“Kara, it’s all on your acc-“
“It doesn’t work, Lee. Just go,” she repeats, and when he tries and fails to find something to say to her that will convince her, she takes her own advice and flees.
[] [] []
He would like nothing better than to chase her down and pin her to his bunk, make her understand without words what his choice is and why, but she would probably lash out like a wounded animal. Gods, he’s made such a hash of this.
He’s still got a call to make to Gray, to go over the escort schedule he drew up.
“… and , Major? Did you think about the offer I made? I meant it when I said I could use someone with operational experience.”
“Yes, sir. And no, sir.” He says it before he thinks about his answer, and when he hears his own words, he doesn’t want to take them back.
“Does that mean-“
“I’m staying with Galactica, sir.” He’s always known the answer, he just wanted to flirt with other possibilities. Lee, you rogue. Is this as exciting as your life gets these days? Getting everyone you love mad at you, just because you can? Well, hopefully, he’ll have time to persuade Kara of his sincerity. If she doesn’t go planetside just to spite him.
“Well, Major Adama, it will be the colony’s loss and Galactica’s gain.”
“Thank you, sir. I - don’t deny it would be satisfying to help set up the colony, but if we ever get to where we’re going they’ll need help there too.”
“Too true, Major. Gods speed you on your way… we all want to find home, wherever that may be.”
[] [] []
Lee hits the bag hard, but he’s so tired that he misses a step and the bag slams into him, knocks him to his knees. Rather than get up he sits down on the ground, holding his head between his gloved hands and hoping that the world will magically right itself when he looks up.
He feels rather than hears footsteps beside him. She doesn’t say anything, but there isn’t anyone else who would sit shoulder to shoulder with him.
“Everything okay?” she says, finally.
He lets out a despairing snort. “My best friend’s mad at me and wants me to go away and never come back.”
“Maybe she thinks you’ll be better off without her.”
“We tried that already - she left, I left; we saw other people; I went to another ship; I tried dying…” she touches his arm, briefly, “-but I can’t seem to be happy without her.”
He sneaks a peek over his shoulder when she doesn’t respond right away. She’s twisting her fingers and her brow is furrowed like she’s struggling to figure something out.
“What about kids, Lee?”
“What about them?”
“I don’t want them. You know that.”
“I don’t know if I’ll want them, Kara. I don’t even know if I’ll be around tomorrow! And for all I know, someone’s already repopulating the Fleet with my genes, thanks to the gene bank - so if all I want is to pass my bone structure and eye color along to the next generation, that’s taken care of.”
“You forgot to mention your towering stature and mad Triad skills.”
“Ha ha.” He shakes his head, glances at her again as he strips his gloves off. “What about me? Do you want me, Kara? Or is it just that you have a thing for Adamas?"
She’s not so far gone that she can’t see past the jibe to the real question. “You’re not a replacement for Zak.”
“No? ”
“He made me laugh, Lee. He loved me and I… Frak! We were other people then. Why do we have to go through all this now?” She stands up and starts pacing, pushing the bag so it swings perilously close to Lee’s head.
“We’d never get to it otherwise. Haven’t, in a year and a half,” he points out.
She closes her eyes in exasperation. “Zak is not the point. Do you really want to give up a shot at building the world, just for endless CAP rotations?”
“Kara, it’s too hard to think about this as the rest of my life. I just - I just want to be around next week when Gaeta wins his socks back from you. I want to figure out how to beat my father at sparring. I want to wake up next to you in the morning.”
She looks away, bites her lip. “Frakkin’ idiot,” she swears under her breath, and he isn’t sure if she’s talking to him or to herself. She hits the bag a few times and seems to make up her mind. For a moment she is hidden behind the apparatus and when she reappears she thrusts her fist at him. “Marry me,” she dares him.
Lee doesn’t need to open her palm to know what she’s handing him. He looks at her, sees her waiting to be hurt again. Dontfrakthisupdontfrakthisup. “Any day. “ He lets out a slow exhale. “But you know I don’t need this from you.”
“We need to move forward, Lee. You’re right, we’ve done this dance too many times. I don’t want Zak coming between us and you - you should know where I stand. So take it, stupid,” she hisses, shaking her fist again.
Lee gets up, never taking his eyes off her. “He gave it to you,” he says, closing the gap between them, closing his hand over hers. “What’s a piece of metal going to tell me, that I haven’t already figured out?”
She won’t look at him, turns her head as he grazes her jaw with a kiss. “You should have something,” she mutters.
“To what? Make up for choosing you?” he cajoles, pulling her stiff body against him. “Idiot. I did get something. I win,” he says, kissing her forehead. “And you can’t pay me for staying, it’s a gift.”
“Lee Adama, the gods’ gift to women,” she grumbles, but he feels rather than sees the dampness on her cheekbone, the smile she tucks away.
“Just one woman.”
“Damn you, Lee. I never wanted to give you this choice.”
“Not yours to give.” He reaches up to cup her cheek.
“Are you going to resent me when we’re three star systems away from here and the Cylons are kicking your a-“
“Shhhh.”
“I was going to knock you out and throw you on a Raptor and take you down myself.”
“Actually, I thought you might pull a stunt like that, so I had every last knuckledragger bribed to page me the moment you set foot on the hangar deck.”
“So that’s why Cally was so helpful. I almost decked her.”
“Temper, temper. Aren’t you saving it for the superior assholes any more?”
Her mood changes like mercury. “Running out of superiors,” she says, and her eyes are endless depths.
He smiles, to coax her back to the lighter mood. “’S’why I’m staying,” he tells her.
“Okay, fine. But I want this to be official, dammit,” she insists, sticking her chin out. “Incense and everything.”
“Gods. Fine. What is so godsdamned important about going through the motions, anyway? Not like you’ve ever cared about what other people think before. ”
“Is that a yes?”
“Frak yes.”
[] [] []
The lamplight is soft on their faces, warm on Galactica’s cold metal walls and floor. Lee pauses to look, really look at her. He wants to memorize every detail. She is Aphrodite: hair glimmering, eyes unfathomable, promising trouble or tenderness, he’s never sure. But she is also Artemis, his heart’s twin, the huntress, and impatient to get on with the chase. So he reaches out to touch her face, meet her wicked grin - ah, that tongue tip caught in the corner of her mouth - and gives her a kiss for the ages.
The applause startles him, even though there are just three people in attendance. They turn to greet their witnesses - only his father, Helo, and the priest, as Kara wanted - and glance back at each other with disbelieving eyes. His father hugs him - one of the few times he’s sure he’s pleased him - and then reaches out an arm to draw Kara in as well.
Lee grabs the bottle of ambrosia as they walk out of his father’s quarters. He’s not really sure where they’re headed but is happy to float along in everyone’s wake. They emerge onto the bridge above the hangar bay and he is still trying to process that they are actually married, when a wave of sound stops him in his tracks.
Practically the entire crew of Galactica is below them, clapping, whistling, and stomping their feet. It takes him a moment to understand the rhythmic chant and when he turns to Kara he sees the same dazed joy that must be on his face. He pulls her to him and dips her in a stage-worthy move, giving the cheering crowd what they’re clamoring for.
[] [] []
She is on the observation deck drinking in the view of the gleaming orb above them. The portal dwarfs her, as if she were a child looking up at an aquarium. He comes up behind her and leans into her back, hands on either side of the window ledge.
`
“Hey.” He rests his cheek on her hair and breathes her in. They are both in their dress uniforms; the leave-taking ceremony ended an hour ago.
“Hey.” They admire the scene , recalling the contours of a faraway planet. Lee traces a peninsula on the glass. “That bit looks like the coast off Delphi.”
“Mmmm. They have some pretty spectacular beaches down there.”
“Planning a career as a beach bum?”
Kara laughs, shakes her head. “I was just thinking what fun it was to swim again.” She closes her eyes and tilts her head back briefly, recalling the posture of sun worship. “I’m too pale to spend that much time planetside.”
“That you are.” He presses his lips to the faint constellation of moles that interrupt her fair skin, at cheek and jaw and throat. “I’m sure they’ll invent sunscreen pretty quickly.”
Around them, the observation deck is starting to fill up. Lee skims his hand down her arm and brushes over the inky circle on her third finger. She turns to face him, curling her fingers in protectively.
“Stings?” he says, catching her hand up again and pressing a kiss on the new tattoo. For a moment he recalls when she got it, listening to her crack jokes over the buzz of the pen. Somehow that seems like their real wedding ceremony, more so than the formal ritual in his father’s quarters.
“Just a little raw.”
“Seems all I’m good for is inflicting pain on you,” he teases, and finds his smile trapped against her palm.
“Shhh,” she chides him. “I still mean to make my mark on you someday,” she smirks, “ ‘Property of Starbuck,’ right here,” tracing a line across his forehead.
“You’ve got several hundred light-years to try, anyway,” he informs her. “And then you get to be a politician’s wife.”
“Oh yeah? Who says you’re not the trophy wife? You’re prettier than I am.”
“Damn straight,” he laughs, his admiring gaze belying his words. “So beautiful,” he says as he kisses her temple.
“Shut up, wife,” she commands. “We’ve got things to do before we can blow this station.” She takes his hand and sets a course through the crowds gawking at the new world. Lee follows: content, for now, to fly in her wake.
The Wild Rose
By Wendell Berry
Sometimes hidden from me
in daily custom and in trust,
so that I live by you unaware
as by the beating of my heart,
Suddenly you flare in my sight,
a wild rose blooming at the edge
of thicket, grace and light
where yesterday was only shade,
and once again I am blessed, choosing
again what I chose before.
~ fin~