Disclaimer: BSG doesn't belong to me.
Warning: Spoilers through Episode 4x13 a/k/a The Oath.
She led the Fleet to Earth, only to find devastation, instead of paradise.
Her husband, it turned out, belonged to the mysterious Final Five of Cylon lore.
She, herself, had died, and like the mythical phoenix, had returned to life, reborn in a fiery crash.
The president had retreated, her belief in her destiny as the dying leader, shattered.
The enemy had become allies.
The Fleet continued to tear itself apart.
And now, this. Mutiny on board the one place she never thought would fall to such treachery. Once upon a time, nothing happened on Galactica without her learning of it soon afterwards - or even beforehand. Of course, the Old Man had also always known what was going on in his ship as well. Before, a pissant like Gaeta, could never have managed to plot and gather followers for his duplicitous plan. And yet, he had succeeded, in no small part, because the Old Man had lost a lot of the fire that had kept him going since the end of the Twelve Colonies.
How times changed.
Adrenaline currently sang through her veins. She couldn't help the silly grin that refused to stay off her face. She had Apollo at her side, and she believed they could surmount anything.
Starbuck and Apollo. It felt wonderful to even think of their names linked together, once again. Of course, it rarely mattered what happened between the two of them; she always returned to his side, a planet orbiting around his brilliant aura, content to know that despite - or in spite - of everything, they had a bond that wouldn't break. Stretch - oh yes; sometimes so much that it was a mere thread that quivered between them, held only in place by the tension that existed between them.
She kissed him, partly because she couldn't help herself. Only, she knew it for a mistake as soon as she tasted his lips, remembering the last time she had; the furtive meetings they fooled themselves into believing no one else knew about; the mistakes made; the promises broken. She pulled back, and saw confusion and shock on Lee's face.
Not the time. She wasn't sure if it would ever be the time. Too much had happened between them. Too much running, and circling, and cornering, and pain between them.
But. It always came down to this: Lee was her compass; she always returned to him, even when she knew he would not thank her. He gave her direction when so much of her life seemed adrift and indecipherable. She didn't know if they had a future, didn't know if he would chance giving her his heart again, not after her actions the last time he did. She didn't blame him. Leaving his bed, to marry Sam - all because he scared her with the depth of his love for her - that seemed unforgivable. And yet, he had forgiven her, after time. So, she would be patient, and see what happened. After all, it wasn't as if any of the last few years had gone as expected.
"Let's go," she said, shrugging off his reaction. A trademark crazy, fly-by-your-seat plan, courtesy of Starbuck and Apollo. He led, she followed. Wingmen to the last.