Author's Note: An idea that came to me while watching the episode with Count Iblis, (I'm surprised autocorrect doesn't do that stupid red squiggle under the name) probably my only fanfiction for this fandom, but I liked it anyway. Enjoy!
He simply would not wake up.
Captain Apollo Adama had not moved, stirred or opened his eyes for a week since his encounter with Count Iblis.
It was a miracle that he was not dead, that the heart monitor beeped and his pulse still strong, but being dead to the outside world simply cannot be made up by being alive inside your own mind.
And it was very alive in there.
He heard the voices of the ghosts every second that ticked by, like there was nothing else more important than hearing their words.
And with his father sitting next to him with his face in his hands, Starbuck's hand lightly squeezing his shoulder, and Boxy crying himself to sleep every night, those voices may just be able to save his life.
He had almost forgotten how beautiful Caprica looked from Galactica.
Seeing the green and blue planet, knowing that everything was well and good, feeling the angels hovering over the surface, guarding it from harm, was the most amazing feeling in the world.
No, in all the galaxies there could ever possibly be.
They were safe, even if it was just an illusion.
The Devil's apprentices were working on their attack, lingering just beneath the calm surface.
The world that once was erupted into the darkest of lights.
Though Starbuck had opted to spend the night at his side to give his father and son a break, and also for a quiet moment of reflection, he didn't noticed the flicker of consciousness beneath his friend's closed eyes.
Another day ticked by, and still no obvious sign of life came from Apollo, and only silence was at home in his room.
But inside he was alive still, and listened to the voices talking to him, the voices he thought he would never hear again.
It was something like a soft whisper, like a memory of a soothing touch.
The sweet perfume of his mother was always the same, and a scent he and his siblings would never forget.
It smelled like safety, and it smelled like everything was going to be alright.
It had to be.
He was not the type to give up.
In the middle of the night Adama was still awake, with his hands closed tightly around his son's. He held the hands to his forehead, wanting to feel as close to him as he could.
He was glad he was alone, because leaders aren't supposed to cry.
A voice like no other filtered its way into his dreams.
A single smile graced a pair of special lips, ones he would never forget the taste of.
They were something for him to hold on to, a soul that would be there for him.
The feeling of someone's head still resting against his heart, someone needing to hold onto him.
Serena wasn't really gone.
Boxy lay next to his father, not sleeping though you'd think he was, when Apollo's eyes slowly, slowly…
Opened.