He walks away, and her heart plummets. Still, she plasters on a trademark grin and turns to her new dance partner. The newly minted Vice President is glib, eager. She laughs at the appropriate times, makes inconsequential remarks about military life, listens to him recount his surprise at being elected. Ignores the way his hands keep trying to tug her closer.
She hates it.
After the song is over, she smiles and makes her excuses, heads to the bar. On the way there, she notices Lee dancing with Cally, his face lit up with an easy smile. Not that she was looking for him. She scans the faces at the bar, notices Hot Dog at one end and walks over to him. They take a shot of ambrosia together before he disappears back into the throng on the dance floor, and she keeps drinking. Absently she wonders if Lee recalls their drinking ritual from the Academy—one shot together in their room before leaving, one shot together as soon as they get to the bar—before catching herself and pushing the thought aside. She will not dwell on him.
She is so intent on the feel of the cool alcohol sliding down her throat and warming her insides that she is unaware of her building emotions until she realizes in horror that a tear has slipped down her cheek. Instead of loosening her up, each drink has only worsened her mood. She dons her Starbuck façade and hastily brushes away the wetness on her face. She shouldn't, but she tosses back the shot the bartender just set in front of her before slamming the glass back down on the counter. Last drink of the night. Everyone has their limits, and she knows she has reached hers when she is on the verge of falling apart in public. That is unacceptable. She takes a deep breath to ensure the mask of her brash, confident persona will hold, and turns away from the bar.
Baltar intercepts her at the door, and insists on walking with her when she tells him she is taking the next shuttle back to Galactica. Her mind is focused on getting back to the bunkroom and getting out of this godsbedamned dress that she now hates, so she lets him. She doesn't realize that she hasn't said a word to him, hasn't even heard what he's been saying, until she boards the shuttle and sees him standing in the hangar bay with a nonplussed expression on his face. He stares at her in something resembling irritation before retreating in the direction of the celebration, but she only turns to the window and wishes they would take off sooner.
OOOOO
Karl whistles as he steps out of the shower, glad to be clean again after a long session at the gym. He is surprised to see Kara stepping into the bunkroom as he returns from the head; it is still early and he knows that unlike him, she had been looking forward to the Colonial Day celebration. If nothing else, he knows that she had been excited about the prospect of access to quality ambrosia.
When he enters the bunkroom, she is leaning back against her locker, eyes shut. She starts when he greets her, and he sees something twist across her face before she smiles and responds, stepping out of her heels and throwing them into the back of her locker. Anyone else would think nothing was out of place, but he is not anyone else. He knows her, knows her better than anyone, can read all her moods, see past the tough front that she tries to maintain. They were Karl and Kara for a long time before they were Helo and Starbuck, before the Colonial Fleet, before vipers and raptors, before Adamas. He recognizes the walls she is putting up, knows that her smile is a little too set while her eyes are just a bit too dull.
He asks her what's wrong, and realizes that she is on the brink when she closes her eyes again and shakes her head, slowly. His eyes widen when he notices that her hands are shaking as she goes to change out of her dress and into cotton shorts and double tanks. After she pulls the tops on, he moves to grasp her hand, and tugs her to sit next to him on her bunk. She flashes him a look of annoyance—typical Kara—but settles next to him, leaning slightly into his arm in a gesture of comfortable familiarity that few people receive from her.
He twists his head to look at her, blond hair now falling forward into her eyes as she looks down at her lap. He asks her how the party was. Her voice hitches almost imperceptibly as she cracks a joke about Lee stumbling over his words when he saw her in the dress, and Karl begins to form an inkling of what went wrong. He wraps his arm around her shoulder, gently pulling her against his side, and is grateful that the room is empty of other pilots. She would never allow this simple display of her humanity otherwise. They sit together in silence for a while before she quietly, hesitantly, asks him if he thinks that her mother was right, that the gods meant for her to suffer. He clenches his jaw in sudden anger, but not at her, and tells her that of course her mother had no frakking clue what she was talking about. He knows that she does this to reassure herself. She does it for encouragement, knows what his answer will be, and it helps her. But he also knows that she only asks this question when she is feeling desperate, and those times are few and far between. He curses the gods for giving Kara a mother like Socrata Thrace, and wonders how long he would end up in hack if he punched the CAG.
She is shuddering against him, and when he leans back a little and tips her face towards him, he sees her biting her lip, eyes tightly shut, the muscles in her neck clenched as she tries to keep back the tears. He gathers her into his arms wordlessly and drops a kiss into her hair; he knows the moment that she lets go and accepts his offer of comfort because that is when she grabs onto his tanks with both fists and ducks her head into his chest, and suddenly the room echoes with the sound of his best friend's quiet sobs.
OOOOO
Lee stops his pacing to kick his desk. As much as he tries, he cannot seem to get the image of a certain lead pilot out of his head, and it is driving him to distraction. Of course, it's only because of the contrast between the dress and her usual military attire. It's not because it's Kara.
He had danced with a few of Galactica's pilots and deckhands after letting Baltar cut in, and the minutes had stretched into an hour by the time he was able to look for her again. Naturally, that was the time that she chose to leave the celebration, the Vice President's hand at her elbow as they exited the room together. He had blindly made his way to the bar, assuring himself that the tight feeling in his chest was because the room was getting stuffy from being packed with so many people. After two shots of ambrosia—did she still remember their customary two shots at the beginning of the night during their Academy days?—he had decided to return to Galactica, and eventually found himself in his office.
He rakes a hand back through his hair and sighs, halfheartedly kicking his desk again. He decides that getting some sleep will cure him of this strange feeling that he can't put his finger on, and leaves the office, stubbornly determined not to think of her. As he nears the bunkroom, the sound of someone crying causes him to frown, and he moves a little more quickly.
When he turns into the room, he is stunned by the sight of Helo sitting on her bunk, with a ball of Kara on his lap. She is curled tightly inwards, knees drawn up to her chin, as small as she can make herself. His arms are around her, one hand moving calmingly up and down her back, her head turned into his chest. She is trembling, he can hear her ragged breath, and although Lee cannot make out what the raptor pilot is saying, he can see the other man murmuring soothingly into her hair. Her back is to the hatch, and Helo's attention is solely on Kara, so neither of them appears to have noticed him standing in the entrance. He steps back into the hall and leans against the bulkhead next to the hatch, and he is sure that he can feel something within himself break.
He is bewildered, both by the sight of Kara in her current condition, and by his own reaction. He has seen her in many emotional states—happy, angry, indifferent, excited, even sad—but nothing has come close to this. Even at Zak's funeral she had been relatively poised, maintaining a stoic front even though everyone knew, they knew, that she had to be heartbroken. Nothing in his experience with her has prepared him for seeing her so disconsolate. No more has anything in his experience prepared him for the effect it has on him to see her this way. It is heartwrenching, even though he has no clue what has brought this to pass. He feels the need to protect her and ease her pain, and the lords help anyone that tries to get past him to so much as breathe harm on her. He knows this is ridiculous, imagines he would probably get a black eye for his trouble if she knew he was trying to shield her, expects he would end up in sickbay if he tried to do for her what Helo is doing now.
His brow furrows as he considers the last, trying to puzzle out why she is that comfortable with Helo but not him. He tells himself that he is glad she has someone to help her through whatever is happening, but is suffused with something uncomfortably close to disappointment at the knowledge that he is not the one consoling her. Not that he's jealous, of course.
He looks up when he senses someone standing in the doorway. It's Helo. He bobs his head in acknowledgment at the taller man, who is giving him a long, measuring look. The raptor pilot almost seems angry, and Lee is confused. The two men do not know each other that well, and have only become acquainted as much as they have because of their mutual friendship with Kara.
After a few seconds Helo tells him that she will be okay, and is trying to sleep now. He asks what happened, but Helo only shakes his head and tells him to talk to her. He finds himself wanting to ask what's going on between Helo and Kara—he's convinced that there must be something—but manages to bite back the question. Helo seems to know what the viper pilot is thinking, though, and states that he and Kara have known each other a long time. Lee is not sure if that makes him feel any better, and it must show on his face because Helo rolls his eyes. The larger pilot repeats his advice that Lee should talk to Kara. Lee's eyes narrow when he realizes that Helo actually said Kara, not Starbuck, and come to think of it, she always calls him Karl. He's not sure how he feels about that.
Helo still looks a little annoyed with him, and opens his mouth as if to say something, only to clamp it shut again. Now it's Helo's eyes that are narrowing, and when he finally speaks, Lee is a little shell-shocked at what he says and feels rooted to the spot. Helo stares at him as if to make sure that he had taken in his words, then nods briefly.
She is already asleep when they enter the bunkroom, lying on her side, blond hair fanned out on her pillow. Her expression is peaceful, though her complexion is a little blotchier than normal.
Helo is snoring within minutes, but it is his words outside the bunkroom, spoken with a clear hint of warning but somehow pleading at the same time, that keep Lee awake, struggling with incomprehension on more than one count.
Look, Apollo, whatever is between the two of you is none of my business. But part of me will always belong to Kara, and I hate seeing her hurt. She's more fragile than you think, so don't frak with her.