fic: signal fire (kara/lee) chapter 02
Title: Signal Fire
Rating: PG/PG-13 For some strong language and adult themes.
Spoilers: All Seasons, All Episodes.
Status: Complete (Prologue+11 Chapters+ Epilogue)
Summary: Kara and Lee get one last chance to be together. Begins the moment after Daybreak II, on the hill where Kara didn’t say goodbye.
Special thanks to my sister, placeofthunder, who I've decided is better than any beta.
Disclaimer: No copyright infringement intended. I own nothing.
Previously: Prologue, Chapter One
Chapter Two
The scrape of silverware, the clank of the hatch. Someone shouted out a friendly greeting, while another shoved abruptly away from their table. Idle mealtime chatter filled the air with a steady drone. A man let loose with a boisterous laugh, his entire table joining in.
In the midst of the crowd and the noise, Kara sat alone and silent two weeks later. She gazed down at her plate, absently wondering just how much more of the stuff she had now consumed than everyone else in the room. It was a pointless exercise, but it was nice to occupy her mind with something simple and mundane for a little while.
She slumped over in her chair a bit more, poking at the tasteless protein with the tine of her fork. Hopefully that didn’t make her seem crazy. She was so frakkin’ tired of trying. It seemed like the harder she worked to make them believe she wasn’t cracking up, the more people refused to believe it. It didn’t help that there were moments when even she wasn’t sure.
Maybe she had to prove herself if she were going to convince anyone of what she knew, but a large part of her was so tired of this dance. When would she finally be able to sit one out? To live without any worries concerning the frakking fate of the universe or the survival of mankind? How much more of that fight did she even have left in her?
Since her almost-suicide in the sky, Kara had heard the term “burnout” furtively whispered more than once in her wake. She’d been pretty much left to herself like so much damaged goods for most of the time she’d been back. Not that they know I ever left.
The worst part was, she didn’t know how to make them understand what she didn’t understand herself. So she let them believe whatever the frak they wanted.
She mashed her algae morsels with a crisscrossing motion and glanced to her left, where a couple of petty officers were discussing Baltar’s upcoming trial. It was all anyone was talking about these days. She couldn’t bring herself to give a frak about his fate one way or another. She had enough to think about. It felt like everything and everyone had become a factor in an equation that she had to solve.
She finally gave up on the algae and shoved it away with an unwarranted sense of relief. It was at least one less thing to worry about.
“You need your protein, Kara.”
She looked up through her bangs to see Sam helping himself to the seat catty-corner from her.
He settled in with an overly serious expression and a plate of algae of his own.
“Sam.”
He smiled a little, and pushed her plate back towards her, “You should eat.”
Her expression turned skeptical, “Who made you the nutrition police?” Sarcastic, but there was no real bite. Seeing Sam healthy and whole again was enough to knock some of the fight out of her.
“It’s an unofficial title ,” he replied around a mouthful, “but that doesn’t change the fact that you still should eat.” He pointed at her plate, while spearing some of his own portion with his fork.
Kara just rolled her eyes and leaned back to watch in amazement as he ate with relish.
“Don’t you have any taste buds?”
He kept eating, but shook his head, “Never use them anymore.”
She reached for her fork and played absently with the handle,” I haven’t seen a lot of you lately.”
He shrugged, “I thought you might want to be alone-the other pilots made it sound that way…”
Something about the way he said it caught her attention. “You talk to the other pilots a lot these days?”
“Yeah, I’m, uh, thinking about training-to become a viper jock. Like the wife,” he sounded uncomfortable, like he expected the news to upset her. “I didn’t want to tell you-what with you being grounded and all. Thought it might make you feel worse about things…”
“Don’t be stupid,” she leaned forward, “I think it’s a great idea, Sam.”
“You do?” he paused, then started eating again, clearly relieved, ”In that case, I already started some training this morning. Nothing major, just learning the little stuff-since their best instructor’s taking a little vacation,” he gave her a half-smile.
Kara shook her head, “I’m just sorry I wasn’t there for all your first-day frak ups. So many opportunities to give you hell…wasted.“
He acknowledged that with a brief chuckle, then ate in silence for a while. Kara watched the people of Galactica come and go. How many would make it to the end this time? What would the end even be?
“So how are you, Kara, really?” She looked back at him. He was watching her now, plate empty in front of him.
She sighed roughly, a look of disgust crossing her features. “Not you too, Sam. It was one incident.” She recited wearily, “I thought I saw a raider in the clouds but I was wrong. End of story. It doesn’t mean I’m losing my frakking mind, despite what everyone seems to believe.”
“I really don’t give a frak what ‘everyone’ thinks. I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”
“I just have a lot on my mind, Sam.”
“I can see that. The question is, what are you so preoccupied with all of a sudden?”
She stretched out her right leg a little, rocking the empty chair across from Sam with her foot. She watched the chair’s motion absently-side to side, side to side.
”What do you mean?”
“You say you’re okay, but you’re…different.”
She turned back to him, alert now, “Different how?”
He shrugged again, looking thoughtful, “Hard to say. I just know something’s changed.”
A part of her wanted to laugh at the understatement. He had no idea. Then the concern in his eyes got through to her and she felt a stab of sympathy. Things looked so differently when you’ve already lived through them. Sam was at a disadvantage. She looked at him for a moment, remembering.
“I’ve been the worst kind of wife to you,” she didn’t even know she was going to say it until the words were already out.
He looked surprised , but rolled with the change of subject admirably, “ Maybe,” he paused, searching for the right words, “But maybe I don’t care.”
She smiled a soft, sad smile, looking away, “Maybe you should, Sammy.”
There was a very long silence.
“It’s over isn’t it?” His expression was a curious combination of resignation and resentment.
She went back to rocking the chair with her foot, “Hasn’t it been?”
“You tell me, Kara. I’m not the one who calls you whenever I need a-“
“Sam,” she interrupted before they made this into something ugly when it didn’t have to be, “I love you. I really frakkin’ do.” She saw him visibly calm, focus on her words. “You have no idea…” A bullet to the head, a promise by her hand… you are my Sam…”How much.”
“Then why-“ he began. But she knew what he was going to say.
“Because. It’s both too much and not enough, Sam,” she interrupted.
He shook his head,” That makes no frakkin’ sense, Kara.”
“It does to me.” She stared at him, willing him to understand, “I love you. Enough to know you deserve more than I have to give.”
It was a hard thing to say but it didn’t change her gut feeling that it was the right thing as well. And if there was one thing she wanted after losing him in the way that she had, it was to do the right thing by him.
His expression sharpened, “Because you’re in love with someone else.”
She turned away, annoyed, “I’ve never said that.”
“You’ve never had to,” he made as if to leave, but seemed to change his mind. He leaned back and crossed his arms, “You know what the worst part is, Kara?”
She looked up at him, spoke quietly, “What, Sam?”
“I can’t even hate you for it,” he shook his head, “You just won’t let me.”
The corner of her lips pulled up, her eyes stung, “Yeah…I can be a real bitch like that.” She drew a circle on the table with the tip of her finger.
He breathed a laugh and rubbed his face with his hands. Several moments passed, only the surrounding din of the crowd filled their silence. Then he laughed again in earnest. The sound startled her.
Her brows lowered, “What’s so funny?”
He chuckled a bit more, then got out, “These tattoos…they’re so frakking big.”
She turned away quickly, choking on her sudden desire to laugh along with him.
She composed herself and turned back, “Guess we should have gone with jewelry after all.”
They stared at each other for a beat and then they both choked on a laugh, wiping their eyes. It seemed wildly inappropriate, considering, but Kara figured sometimes you just had to laugh or you’d cry. She was pretty sure they were doing both, though neither would own to it.
Her quiet laughter died out as she caught sight of a familiar figure entering from across the room. She casually dropped her gaze back to the table.
Sam glanced back over his shoulder to see what had caught her attention. He looked back at her.
“Oh.”
She shook her head, reached to take a drink of her water, “It’s not what you think, Sam.”
She’d wanted to approach him for days but something held her back. Fear? Confusion? Maybe a little bit of both.
But underneath all that was another feeling-one she recognized. It was the same feeling she’d had after finding her charred corpse in that blackened shell of a cockpit on Earth. If anyone would understand, if anyone would know what to do, if anyone would accept her…it would be him.
“I have to ask him a favor. And it’s…kind of a big favor.”
“Like asking him to leave his wife? That kind of big?” Sam’s cynicism was back, laughter forgotten.
No, Sam. Like believing this frakked up story I have of coming back from the dead… and then coming back again… I’m going to ask him to help me convince everyone that I can take what’s left of humanity home…Because I’ve already done it. That kind of big.
It seemed even crazier when she thought it through like that. She should have just stuck with the gut feeling.
She’d been silent for too long. Sam’s tone took on a slight edge as he spoke, “Why don’t you ask him right now, Kara? Want me to flag him down for you?”
Kara threw Sam a look out of the corner of her eyes, refusing to dignify that
with a response. She turned back and calmly took another drink of water, staring stonily ahead.
He sighed raggedly after a time, suddenly repentant, “Whatever it is? Just ask him Kara. The answer is yes.” He rose from the table, leaving his empty plate behind. He pushed in his chair.
She turned her head slowly to look at him, acknowledging his unnecessary apology.
“How can you be so sure?”
“He can’t deny you anything. He’s literally incapable of it.” Sam stared at her. There was still anger in his eyes, but there was a touch of acceptance there too, “I know the feeling.”
She watched silently as he walked away.
The guilt tore at her gut, and she clenched her jaw as she whispered, “I’ll make it up to you, Sam.” You’ll get your happy ending. That bullet doesn’t stand a chance.
___________________________________________
Another two weeks later, Kara stood alone in the dimly lit weight room. Her left arm snapped out to its straightened length. Jab. Recoil.
If there was one thing she hated, it was feeling helpless, useless. No amount of physical exertion was going to eliminate her frustration, but it beat the hell out of staying in her bunk, staring at the rack above her.
She’d gone for more than a few runs in the past twelve days, to clear her head, think it all through. She’d spent some time at the firing range. Yesterday, she’d finally joined some other pilots in a few hands of triad, folded on every one. Her heart wasn’t in it.
Her right fist flew diagonally across her midsection, sinking into the layers of leather, foam, and sand with a satisfying thud she could feel down to the balls of her feet. Her shoulder ached in protest; she ignored it. Left hook. Exhale.
Mostly her thoughts centered on Earth- the new one. The planet she should still know the way to, if anyone would give her the chance to try. For what felt like the millionth time, she cursed the fate that had thought it was a good idea to give her an instinct, a vague notion of where their new home inhabited space. So much easier to simply scribble out some frakking coordinates and hand them to the Admiral on a slip of paper.
Kara lifted her weight to her right foot, balanced; threw out her left leg. Her shin met the leather with a snap of contact. It hurt like hell. She began the entire sequence again, counting out the rhythm.
Of course, knowing her luck, there was a chance he would look down at the solid proof and still not believe her.
Yeah, she figured she was probably frakked either way. She guessed it was a good thing she was used to playing with those odds.
The hatch wheel turned, the sound of heavy metal unhinging from heavy metal startling her from her troubled thoughts.
Distracted now, she threw a punch that should have been a jab, lost the rhythm.
She looked up, steadying the swaying punching bag with both gloved hands.
He stepped over the threshold, his gaze fell on her, unsurprised to find her here. He’d been looking.
He was in uniform, pressed and tucked and polished. Sharp.
Kara swept her arm across her forehead, slick with sweat, breathing hard.
“Lee.”
He had a sheaf of papers and a clipboard under one arm. His eyes looked tired.
She stripped off her gloves while he sat down on the edge of the weight bench, watching her.
“Hotdog said I could probably find you here.”
Kara just shrugged, smoothing back the damp strands of hair at her temple with the top of her shoulder. It didn’t take a genius. There weren’t a lot of places for her to go.
She began unwrapping her hands with concise, practiced movements, “Haven’t seen a lot of you lately, Major.”
He looked up at her steadily, “I saw you in the mess hall a couple of weeks ago. It looked like your were in deep conversation with Sam, though. I didn’t want to interrupt.”
She nodded, though she wasn’t convinced.
“I came by your quarters the other day, “ he continued, “They said you had gone for a run three hours before and hadn’t been back.”
“Is that a big frakking deal? What else am I supposed to do right now? I can’t fly my viper, can’t do my job-“
“Have you been to see that psychologist, Kara?” She could see how much he’d hated to ask her that.
Kara shook her head, spoke bluntly, “No.”
“Kara-“
“Lee, even if he examines me and thinks I’m crazy, what’s the point? He would have thought the same thing on the day you first met me. Hell, on the day I was born.”
A reluctant smile pulled at his lips. She had him there.
“Kara, I know you’re going through a tough time right now-“
“And how would you know that?” she broke in. “You haven’t even seen me for almost a month.”
His expression fell, “Kara, President Roslin has requested that I head the preliminaries for Baltar’s trial…”
Kara tossed the discarded bandaging strips in a little pile with her gloves and looked askance at him.
He continued more briskly, “On top of that, the trial itself has increased the need for security, transport.” His expression took on a look of distaste, “Baltar’s keeping everyone pretty busy.”
It would suit Kara just fine if security got decreased instead. Quite frankly, the memory of Gaius Baltar outing her as some sort of angel on the crowded hangar deck didn’t really inspire the warm fuzzies.
He mistook her silence for something else, ”I’m sorry, Kara.”
She shook her head. She hadn’t expected him to baby-sit her.
“It’s fine, Lee.”
He stood, sighing roughly, “No, it isn’t. It’s just that I’m spread a little thin right now-”
“So let me help.”
She wasn’t sure why she’d said it. She certainly wasn’t in the mood to argue with him about her flight status. But damn if she wasn’t tired of having other people tell her what she was and wasn’t. Couldn’t she be allowed to control this one small thing?
Lee turned aside, studying something off to her left, wearing that stubborn expression she knew all too well.
“Kara, you know I can’t do that. I’m not putting you up in the sky until you’re ready.”
She placed her hands on her hips, “I’m ready.”
“We don’t know that. And I’m not risking your life to find out.”
“You need pilots, Lee, you just said so. And guess what?” she leaned forward for emphasis, “I’m a pilot.”
He turned suddenly to face her again, “Kara, last time you went out, you said you couldn’t do it, but I pushed you. I convinced you that you could do it. And look at what happened...”
Kara rolled her eyes to the side of the room, frustrated. “That wasn’t your fault, Lee. And even if it was-you just said yourself that I knew I wasn’t ready. So trust me, trust my instincts. I’m ready.”
“Kara,” he took a deep breath, “I can’t-“
Kara’s already frayed nerves pulled tighter. If she couldn’t even convince Lee she was capable of flying a viper, how would she convince anyone that she knew the way to Earth? It was a frakking nightmare.
She cut him off, “Dammit, Lee- I’m sick to death of everyone telling me what I am and am not capable of!” Her shoulders rose and fell in time with her heated breaths, “When I climbed into that cockpit, I was…working through some things. I don’t have to work through them anymore. It’s…different now.” Because now I have a whole new set of problems.
But she didn’t think he needed to know that just yet.
His eyes and voice took on a stronger edge, “I’m sorry, Kara. But I’m the CAG, and this is still my decision. When the trial is over, I’ll have the time to take you out myself. If you still feel good, we’ll reinstate you. But not now. I’m not going to just throw you into the frakking cockpit and hope for the best.”
She was just this side of shouting at him before she knew it. She just couldn’t stop herself. Damn her stubborn streak.
“The trial is just a stupid frakking excuse, Lee! I am sick to death of sitting around on my ass all day just because you’re afraid- “
His composure finally snapped, he shouted over her, “I am not going to risk losing you just because Gaius Baltar’s lawyer needs his six covered!”
His voice echoed loudly in the isolated room. They stared at each other for a beat too long. He seemed as surprised by his passionate outburst as she was.
He broke eye contact first, glancing down, then back again, “I have to get to the hangar deck.” He made to go around her.
Something broke in her as well. Her hand shot out and grasped his arm, effectively pulling him to a halt.
He looked down at the hand on his arm, then glanced up to meet her eyes.
“You are not going to lose me, Lee,” she gritted. She took a calming breath and spoke more quietly, “Not this time.”
Not if I can help it. She was so tired of saying goodbye.
His ensuing expression was hard to read: fear, doubt, confusion, perhaps hope. There was a little anger there as well. He stared at her for what seemed like forever.
“What does that mean, Kara?” He stepped closer to her. Her breath came shallow, there was a strange ache in her chest, like a pull.
“What do those words mean to you?”
She didn’t know what to say; what he wanted from her.
He waited in vain, then backed away from her, expression almost pained. He shook his head and turned.
Kara watched him go silently. The hatch sealed shut in the stillness.
She couldn’t be certain, but she was pretty sure he’d won every aspect of that entire frakking argument.
She turned back to the punching bag with a grim expression.
______________________________________
Two more endless weeks passed and Kara stood leaning against the bulkhead, arms crossed and staring at the hatch to the Admiral’s quarters. She’d started out just going for another late-night jog, which had turned into yet another time of introspection and before she’d known it, she’d found herself headed in this direction.
If this were truly happening all over again-and she was becoming increasingly sure that it was- than she was uncertain what her role should be within it. Was this more of a spectator sport, or was she supposed to actively change something she’d done wrong before? She’d been taught that song when she was a little girl, so she’d always known the way. She just hadn’t been aware. She was plenty aware now, but who was ever going to believe her? Especially now when everyone believed she had cracked up and burnt out.
Kara was unsure of a lot of things right now, but she knew this: sitting around on her six and doing nothing was not working for her.
Maybe Adama wouldn’t believe her one way or the other, but she had to try. They would soon be approaching the Ionian Nebula and Kara knew there had been hundreds of lives lost there the time before.
If the cylons had turned back the first time because of the Final Five, they might do it again. But as near as she could tell from the feelers she’d put out, Sam and the others were still just as in the dark as ever. Maybe they had to get closer to it?
She didn’t know what that meant or didn’t mean and frankly, she was tired of caring. Forget the cylons, why not just jump the fleet to Earth and be done with it? Maybe she’d been wrong about a higher power wanting the fleet to get to Earth with the cylons all along. Perhaps that was why she had to do it again; to fix that mistake.
There, she’d talked herself into it. She pushed off the wall.
_______________________________________
“Come in, Starbuck.”
Kara carefully closed the hatch behind her and walked forward to stand in front of the Admiral’s desk and salute. A part of her still wished Lee was standing by her side. For several reasons, but mostly because she felt she would have had a better chance of convincing the Admiral with Lee’s support. Well, it was too late now.
Kara stood patiently while he leafed through some papers, adding a signature to a few. She gratefully took in the sight of the closest thing she’d ever known for a father. Her heart broke a little at the thought of her last moments with him on Earth. Of the sight of him carrying his love away to die. He too, like Lee, had deserved more in the end. Why did life demand so much and give so little in return?
The Admiral looked up and smiled a little and she returned it.
“What do you hear, Starbuck?”
“Nothing but the rain, sir,” she replied around the lump in her throat.
“Then grab your gun and bring in the cat,” he finished, somewhat absently. He looked down, and began rifling again through some papers sitting before him.
She just kept standing still and basked in the familiar warmth of their exchange while waiting for him to finish.
When he did, he folded his hands in front of him and watched her with that keen expression of his, “How are you, Kara?”
She swallowed, nodded a little, “I’m fine, sir. Much better.”
He gave her another warm smile, “I’m glad to hear it.” He gestured with his head to the model ship sitting proudly a few feet away from them. “She looks good doesn’t she?”
Kara dropped her stance and walked over to his masterpiece, reaching out to feather the antiqued gold of the ship’s figurehead. She hoped he didn’t notice that her hand trembled.
“She does, sir.”
A companionable moment passed before either spoke again.
“I suppose you’re here about your flight status.”
“Actually, sir-“
“I’m going to trust Lee’s judgment on this one,” he cut in.” If he says you’re not ready, then I’ll have to agree. It’s his decision- he’s the CAG,” his expression softened, “I’m sorry, Starbuck.”
“I understand that, Admiral. I do. But I’m doing better now,” her lips pulled into a smile she didn’t feel, “Really.” She hadn’t come here about her flight status. But proving to him that her state of mind was sound seemed important either way.
He looked down, removing his glasses and rubbing his eyes, “No one wants to believe that more than I do, Kara. But regardless, Lee’s decision as CAG stands.”
Kara forced herself to be patient, go slow, “Sir, that’s actually not why I’m here.”
“Well then what is it, Captain? It’s very late. I assumed by the hour of your visit that it must be something important to you.”
She cleared her throat and tried not to sway on her feet. This was a lot harder than she’d expected.
“Sir, it’s a lot more important than my flight status. It’s…it’s about Earth.”
Well. She had his full attention now.
“What about Earth?”
The words felt familiar, flowed out of her with conviction, “I know where it is.”
Chapter Three