Author's Note: Right all. This is the second version of Chapter 1 I have posted here. I have replaced the first in response to numerous complaints regarding typos in the story, of which there were many. I have only combed through the first ten pages or so, but I hope you will find it improved, and please to not hesitate to inform me if more work is needed.

It began this way. After weeks of reasoning, pleading, and cajoling, Lt. Kara Thrace had convinced Commander Adama of the Battlestar Galactica to allow her to go with a small strike team to supply the resistance on Caprica, and relieve any who might wish to retreat to the comparative safety of the fleet. Twelve had come, piled into the heavy transport that had been Starbuck's ride back to the fleet. Among them, Captain Lee Adama, who had insisted upon accompanying Starbuck over his father's strenuous objection. No one was sure how the young captain had managed to sway the commander on the issue; Kara alone knew of the hours the two had spent sequestered in the commander's quarters arguing it, and even she could not have known what was said. Also, Lt. Karl Agathon had volunteered for the mission, since he knew the conditions under which they would fight and had some experience with them. No one had minded seeing him go, as they had not been altogether comfortable with him since his return to the fleet. It was also known that, where he went, the Cylon would follow. It might as well have been the other way around though; Sharon was indispensable to the mission in any case. Racetrack was along as well, in addition to seven marines, called Faustus, Marcel, Tallys, Walker, Landin, Gavin, and Shields, Caprica natives all.

And so it is by this road that we come to our beginning. Twelve men and women, with their hearts in their throats, eased hesitant feet onto their native soil for the first time since the Cylon attack had wiped their lives away. Their lives as they had been. With firearms at the ready they scurried away from their transport, sure that it had been sighted and would probably be found. Starbuck took point, with the other arrayed behind her and Apollo taking up the rear. No one spoke. It had been agreed before they had arrived that the first order of business would be getting clear and finding cover; then the strategizing could begin.

Lee Adama trembled. Here he stood, on his home world, breathing him home air, feeling his home soil beneath his feet and his home sun on his face with home clouds on the horizon. He swallowed, hard, knowing he could not stay.

Knowing Kara hadn't wanted him here in the first place.

There had been something indefinable about her expression when he had told her he would be coming along. She was tense, unsettled somehow, had offered only a perfunctory reply. She hadn't really made eye contact with him since then. From the time he had first climbed aboard the transport that would bring them here he had been waiting for the other shoe to drop, waiting for her to bust open with whatever it was that had been bothering her. But then she'd hardly been the most open person in the worlds with him since her return from her first jaunt to Caprica, and he lacked the energy these days to press her.

The suggestion was made that a few of their number should probably scout ahead. Cylon presence would be far more concentrated that it had been on Kobol, and more still closer to the former high school that the resistance was using as its headquarters. When Apollo had mentioned this, and the likelihood of the cylons waging a pretty aggressive assault on that area, Starbuck had blanched just slightly, and Helo had shifted his weight uncomfortably and glanced sidelong at her. No one picked up on it of course, except Apollo. In the end it was decided that three of them should go ahead, to trip any traps and flush any cylons that might be concealed between where they stood and where they were going. Apollo volunteered to lead the scouts, at which Starbuck paled further still. This time he ignored it. She hadn't wanted him to come, didn't want to open up to him, didn't want to tell him why it was so hard to be around him, and that was fine. But he was not one for making his friends suffer unnecessarily, and frankly it was exhausting him, being around her when she was like this. If she wanted him away, than away he would go.

Apollo took Faustus and Marcel with him, and jogged off without looking back.

And it is here, gentle reader, that our story begins. All else is pieces, being arranged on the board, cards in the hand. All else is shadow. For it is only in pain that men find meaning, when the level at which pain is felt is all that separates one moment from the next.

They had been moving most of the day at a brisk pace, jogging through the forest with occasional breaks for food, water, and air. The run was not strenuous; they traveled light for speed and were, all three, in peak physical condition. They were careful not to get too far ahead of the others, ranging forward and on either flank, then doubling back a bit, then ranging on. As the day passed uneventfully the scouting mission turned into something of a game, a high adventure for three men who had hardly seen anything but steel bulkheads in months. Of the three of them, only Apollo had seen the sky since the genocide.

Sundown found them standing on a ridge overlooking a shallow valley and facing, by the Lords' grace, west. The sky was alight. Apollo supposed it was one of the most magnificent sunsets he had ever seen. But then even muddy water would look fine after months in the desert. Gods but it was good to be home. Good now. He had no doubt that he would not feel so nostalgic after his first encounter with the cylons who had pillaged his world, but for now he could forget all of that. For now he could stand here, watching the sunset, and imagine that all was as it once was.

"Sir? Will we be returning to the others for the night?" Marcel inquired. He was big man, but uncommonly graceful for his size. He did not look at Lee when he spoke but gazed outward, at the setting sun, with his jaw tight and tears in his eyes.

"I think so. We should have everyone together for a watch rotation."

"And the idea of staying out here at night just the three of us doesn't sound great. Not that I don't feel safe with you fellas…" Faustus grinned.

"Sure Faus, I hear ya. I mean there's no telling if flyboy even knows how to use that thing!" Marcel guffawed, inclined his head in the direction of the rifle Lee held easily against his hip.

"Watch it you two!"

"Yes sir! Sorry sir!" They were still grinning of course, and so was he. Lee had always enjoyed the good-natured ribbing between pilots and marines. He knew that with them there was no underlying malice, no hidden criticism. They were playing, as he was. And when push came to shove they each, blessedly, had their own different jobs to do, jobs which they could be confident in doing without the other have any basis for real criticism.

"Anyway, he don't need to know how to use it. That's the kind of thing you boys should leave to the prof…"

And then there was a hole in Marcel's head that hadn't been there before. It just expanded there, and the back of his head blew out, and the report of a rifle followed on its heels. Marcel dropped bonelessly, and all Lee and Faustus could do was stare for a moment, the space a heartbeat, and wonder at the blood and brains spattered on each other's faces.

They were on their bellies an instant later, as bullets sang and ricocheted around them. In the dusk, they couldn't see who was shooting at them, but there were a lot of guns out there. They fired blindly, desperately, in the direction the shots were coming from. Marcel's body twitched.

"Move back!" Lee barked.

The two men shimmied backwards, making for the trees, for some cover. Idiot, idiot, idiot! Standing out here on the ledge, in the wide open, just asking for them to shoot you. Too long. Dumb fraking moron. Back behind the treeline, Faustus and Lee pushed themselves up to their knees with their rifles held in front of them and ancient hardwoods at their backs. The reports of the enemy drew nearer.

"Aw frak Marcel!" Faustus cursed. "Frak frak frak frak."

"We've got to get out of here!" Lee called. "Back to the others."

Faustus nodded grimly. They were two against many. There was only one thing to do.

It was not love, the force that leant speed and endurance to Kara Thrace's legs. It was not fear. It was the combination of love and fear driving her, the fear of love lost, the guilt of love betrayed to its death. She and the others had been preparing to camp for the night, when they had heard the shots, the shouting. Everything that had already been unpacked was left behind. No one needed to say a word. They had grabbed up their weapons and were running before the echoes of the first shot had faded out of their hearing.

Lee and his patrol had ranged farther than they had realized. By the time the land ended, the shooting had stopped as well. The woods opened up onto a ridge that overlooked a valley that would have been picturesque in better light, and without the evidence of battle that surrounded them. Plants had been torn to shreds by gunfire. The ground was trampled. There was a blood trail leading east and… and a body on the ridge. He was lying on his face, the dead man, and the back of his head had been completely blown off; they couldn't tell who it was. For an instant, Kara's heart stopped, until Walker crouched beside the man and rolled him over.

"Marcel," he breathed. Kara cursed herself for the relief that coursed through her. She ought to be getting used to this by now, believing Lee was dead, finding out he wasn't.

"This happened recently," Sharon observed. "The blood's still flowing."

"Well the shooting only stopped a couple of minutes ago. Where the frak are Faus and Apollo?"

"Maybe escaped. Maybe captured. Either way they couldn't have gotten…"

"Cover," Shields snapped.

As one, they folded their bodies back around the trees, bringing their rifles to bear on the sky directly over their heads. As their bodies stilled, and their breathing slowed, they could all hear it too. Several sets of feet, moving cautiously through the trees. Cautiously, and quietly. She heard nothing of the heavy strides of the centurions. Human models then…

"Not cylons," Sharon said. Kara shrugged off the feeling that the cylon woman had read her mind, and shot her an inquiring glance. "The newer models lead centurions in the field. We don't travel alone."

It made sense, of course. Kara could not remember ever seeing the human model cylons traveling in groups larger than two or three, and they were seldom seen without a contingent of centurions. Come to think of it, Kara couldn't remember a single time she had seen a human model cylon even armed on Caprica. Cocky bastards. So what? Were these actual humans?

Only one way to find out.

"Hold fire!" she belted. "I'm coming out!"

"Lieutenant! What the frak…"

"Just cover me, private. Don't question."

And with a look of supreme confidence that hardly mirrored the fear roiling within her, Kara Thrace stepped out from behind the tree…

And was hit full on with such crushing force that she heard the rifles behind her being brought about and cocked. She could hear Helo, barking at the marines to lower their weapons, could hear stifled chuckles from some of those who remembered her from her last visit. But she pushed all that away. She focused only on Samuel T. Anders, in whose arms she was held tightly, feet dangling, and whose scent she breathed in like a tonic.

It seemed like hours before he set her down, and even then she did not step away. With her arms wrapped loosely around his neck, and his hands on her hips, she stared long and hard into his eyes.

"Told you I'd be back," she said softly.

"You did. Yes, you did."

Helo cleared his throat. Kara turned, to see that he and Sharon were standing closer together than they had previously been. The marines bore almost identical expressions of confusion and interest. Racetrack looked angry. Reluctantly, Kara reclaimed her military bearing and took a step back.

"Galactica sent you?" Anders asked, looking over the small landing party with his own expression of interest.

"Yeah."

"Some rescue party."

"We brought some supplies for you, some more anti-radiation meds, some ammunition, medical supplies, as much as we could spare. We're to supply you and offer passage back to the fleet for anyone who wants to go."

"You should know better than to move at night," he chided.

"Yeah well…"

"We weren't," Racetrack picked up. Her voice was stiff, cold. "We were setting up camp for the night and heard shots. We had a scouting party out here."

"Yeah we heard it too. That your guy?"

"Corporal Marcel. Yeah. There were two others with him."

"Got taken?"

"We don't know. We only just got here ourselves."

"There's a blood trail," Landin pointed out. "We can track them."

"Ten Point! Bring up a light. Let's help our friends from the Colonial Fleet find their men."

They didn't stop until midnight. They had long since left the sound of pursuing gunfire behind them, but they had not stopped, could not stop. They would not have stopped now, except Faustus finally faltered, unable to support Lee's weight any longer. Hating himself for his weakness, the Corporal carefully lowered Apollo to the ground, propping him up against a tree. Lee could only nod to express his thanks. Shot twice, it was a miracle he could do as much. The first hit had only grazed him, winging his right thigh as he had laid down suppressive fire for Faustus. That one, though, however minor, had hitched him up just enough to give their enemies time to hit him again, this time to the upper left chest, just below the clavicle. He assumed, based solely on the fact that he was still alive, if not moving totally under his own power, that the bullet had missed everything vital. But he had lost a lot of blood, and only fear and adrenaline had prevented him blacking out with the pain.

"We should keep moving."

"Oh right sir, we should keep moving, great idea. And when you drop dead what am I supposed to tell the old man?" Faustus stripped off his jacket and laid it over the wounded captain. "You should have a fire."

"More great ideas. You and me Faus, what a crew." Apollo looked over the young man crouching in front of him. Faustus was tired, clearly, but none the worse for wear. Lucky bastard. "You should go on, find the others."

"Shut up, sir."

"We're not going to make it Faus. Not like this."

"Sir. Shut. Up."

"I could order you to go."

"Yes you could, Captain. You could certainly do that."

But the man wouldn't go, that was clear enough. And no one would ever know what had happened to them. Kara and the others would have heard the shots, probably rushed to their aid. If they hadn't been picked off by the cylons themselves they would have found Marcel. They might even find Apollo's blood trail, which he had so thoughtfully left for them. But the group from Galactica was here on a mission. They had a destination. Would they split up, risk losing more men? Would they come after them? Maybe. He wasn't even sure if he wanted them to. The longer the others stayed out here, the longer they took getting to the resistance base camp, shelter, and aid, the more likely it was that they would be found and destroyed. Better if they accepted Lee and Faus as losses. Kara wouldn't though. No, not when it was him out there. Kara would have to see a body before she'd ever stop coming for him. It had been all anyone could do to pull him away when it was her life in question, and he knew it was the same with her. It was the invisible tie that had always bound them. Even when they hated each other, they stayed together.

"Frak," he whispered.

"Sir?"

"We should have run into them long before now. We've gotten… turned around somehow."

"Yes sir. But we're not far off I think. We haven't been moving fast enough."

"We need to get moving."

"And tear that wound wide open. You're really thinking tonight sir, I don't mind telling you."

"Faus…"

"Have me court marshaled sir. We hold here until morning."

Morning. Still not dead. Might as well be, Lords knew. Had he slept, or only stared at the night sky? His hand rested over the hole in his shoulder, crusted with red-brown blood. Nothing fresh though. Good sign.

"Faus?" he called. Or tried to call. He voice rasped out of his throat, like the voice of death. Frak, was he thirsty. There was no sign of Faustus.

Minutes ticked by, and Lee neither saw nor heard any sign of his marine companion. He did, however, hear running water nearby. How had he missed that last night? With a groan, and practically feeling the color drain from his face, he hauled himself to his feet. His right leg almost buckled, of course, but he held it together, somehow. One step, two steps, three, towards the water.

Lee pushed through the brush and onto a pebbly beach, stretching out alongside a broad, babbling creek. It would have been a gorgeous spot, except for...

Lee staggered back a step, nearly falling. There, maybe fifty yards away, was Faustus. No, the shell of Faustus. He was being held up by his neck, dangling like a rag doll in the grip of a cylon centurion. Lee stared in horror as the mechanical warrior cast the marine carelessly aside. His neck was broken. The centurion saw Lee, as did his two companions. But Lee didn't care. There was no escape for him anyway. He could barely walk. He would certainly not be running. All he could do was drop to his knees as the cylons stalked towards him.

They followed the trail until it was totally dark, and even pressed on a little after that. But they could see nothing. They had flashlights, but with their hands covering the beams so that only the necessary amount of light was cast; they were of only limited use. They soon had to admit defeat, at least for the night. Anyway, as Anders had pointed out, those who had been sent back to pick up the supplies the landing party had left at their camp had to be given time to catch up. The Caprica Resistance strike team and the Battlestar Galactica landing party set up camp together, set a watch, and dozed through the rest of the night.

Faustus and Lee had not gone far. It had probably felt like miles to them.

They found Faustus the next morning, only a few klicks from where the battle had begun. He was newly dead. Had they been there only half an hour earlier… There was nothing they could do for him now but speak a few words, and take his dog tags to join Marcel's, to be returned to the Commander, and Galactica.

While most of the others from Galactica wept around her, Starbuck fought back the surge of emotion that threatened to overcome her. She had noticed something about Faustus that the others did not seem to, and she had to combat a new desperation as the implications of it reached her. Be strong Kara. It doesn't mean anything. Keep it together. Helo came up alongside, with Sharon at his heels. They had seen it too.

"The broken neck," said Helo in a hushed voice. "That's all that's wrong with him."

"He's not the one that was bleeding."

Lee was nowhere to be seen.

They didn't kill him.

They didn't carry him either, really. The one who had broken Faus' neck (he could identify that one by the few dings and scratches the marine had inflicted before succumbing) dragged Lee along by the scuff of his neck. Lee stayed on his feet by force of will alone, and when he could do so no more… well then the bastard carried him.

How long he could not have said. He was no longer conscious when the centurions dragged him into the clearing and tossed him to the ground. And he was not conscious when the cylons stripped off most of his clothes, nor when they tied his hands together, nor when they hoisted him up and suspended him from a tree limb, with only his toes touching the ground. No, these things he missed, lost as he was in a fugue of pain. He did, however, come awake when they started cutting…

The cylons - Number Six, and the ones known as Doral and Simon - had been in the mountains with a party of centurions, hunting. They had been after a particular fellow who had been harrying them, sniping the new model cylons from a distance whenever any patrolled that area of the mountains. He was one man, an older hermitic type, living in a cabin in the wilds with only his dog for company. He had been difficult to track, but they had gotten him eventually, like they would get all of them. They had been there, finishing up, when a centurion patrol brought them their prize. They had recognized him at once.

Two days and two nights they cut on him, and burned him, and twisted him. Where had he come from? They knew that. Yes, they knew him. He was Lee Adama, Captain, pilot aboard the Battlestar Galactica. When had he come here? How many were with him? Who, exactly, was with him? Where were his friends now? What was his purpose back on Caprica? Where had he been going? Did it hurt?

Vaguely, distantly, in the corner of his mind still able to contemplate such things, he knew they wanted Sharon. And he couldn't tell them. Lords knew he bore no great love for her, but he couldn't give her up. He knew Helo and Starbuck and the others would fight to protect her. He knew she was more of them than of the cylons anyway. And he just couldn't.

Gods but it hurt. And when he called out for his gods they only hit him harder. And when he whispered her name they were intrigued, and cut him more as if to see if he would call for her louder. One looked vaguely sad. One laughed. But he told them nothing. He murmured his prayers, half hoping he would infuriate them into killing him. And he thought of her, and of his father, and of his brother, and of everyone he knew that they had destroyed or would or had tried to destroy or would have tried to destroy if they'd been around when the destroying began. He felt himself dying. He hoped, he prayed, that she would not see his body.

"Do you know," the one called Simon asked, drawing a knife down Lee's chest. "Do you know what we did to her? It's funny about humans. Put the word 'doctor' in front of your name and they'll let you do anything. Touch anything… Just talk to us Lee. Talk to us, and when we find her…and we will find her…when we find her I won't do worse."

Day three.

"You're all alone, you know that don't you Apollo? Even your own people will not help you. You protect them, but it was them that tried to destroy you. See this?" Number Six dug a finger into the wound through Lee's shoulder. "And this?" All four fingers clawed into the wound on his thigh. "Not even the same caliber. Do you think we would be so inefficient, using different caliber weapons? Perhaps it is not us you should hate, hmmm?"

How they had gone so long without killing him he could not understand. But they'd managed. He wondered how long they could drag it out. The fact of the matter was they had been treating his wounds as often as they had inflicted them, though only enough to keep him breathing. He didn't know that though. They did it when he passed out.

"He won't tell us anything," one of them said matter-of-factly that evening. "He cares too much about what we will do to them."

"It's fascinating, isn't it? Even in the face of his own destruction he protects them."

"It is love. How else would the species endure?"

"So weak, but in this so strong."

"Soon we will be as strong. And then we will destroy them all."

"Are we done with him then?"

"Yes. There is nothing more to be gotten from him."

"Then we will destroy him."

"He has already been destroyed. Cut him down and leave him. He does not have much more time."

They cut through his ropes, let him fall to the ground. As the others moved away, Simon moved closer, crouching beside him. There was a malice in this one, where the others were cruelly detached. What had he done? Or rather, what had Kara done, that had this cylon hating her, hating him, so much?

"I want you to know Apollo," Simon said darkly. "And I'll make sure she knows. I want you to know that when you die, it will be because Ikilled you."

He would have died. Should have died, there was no question about that. He would have wanted to die. But she would keep coming for him, until she saw a body. Keep coming, until they killed her too. Or worse. He remembered the stories he'd been told, about the farms, about Kara being special. No. Get up Lee. Get up!

He managed to roll over on his back. Frak. He would die here, in this clearing, and she would keep coming. His body, drained, shut down for a while…

A twig snapped in the forest. Rustling in the trees.

"Come and kill me," he managed, not even opening his eyes. "Get it over with."

For a long while, there was nothing.

She had been hiding in the woods for days now, lurking, whimpering, seeking her master. She had scented him in the cabin, but he was bloody, and cold, where he had been warm and living and loving before. He hadn't moved, hadn't spoken to her, hadn't played with her. She had been gone hunting when the cylons came, as had been her custom since before the attack. Had she been there, she would have been dead too. Now she crept, belly to the ground, towards the familiar, warm man smell in the clearing. Bloody man smell, like her master, only this one moved and spoke and breathed. This one was warm. When she drew up to him she raised herself, just slightly, and snuffled at his face.

It was then that Lee opened his eyes.

He gazed up into the large, inquisitive eyes of a massive shepherd-type dog, standing motionless over him but for the twitching of her nose. She was a lovely animal. Or, the head that took up his entire field of vision was lovely. Of course she could probably bite his face off. Lee held very still, letting her take him in. And they stayed that way, staring into each other, for all the ages of the world.

Then she started licking. Tentatively at first, then with a brisk efficiency, she licked the blood from his skin, licked every wound clean. Lee didn't move. He supposed this one improbability shouldn't have disturbed him, as it was only one in a long line of such. Still, he couldn't help but think, through the fog, that it had been a very odd week, with no normalcy in sight.

Using the dog to brace himself, Lee managed to lift himself to his knees. Then, with one arm around the big, furry neck, and walking on his other three limbs, he made his way over to a tree against which he could sit for a while. Would they come back, to make sure he was dead? Simon might, the bastard. He found himself resigned to it. If he died, he died. Many had. He would be but one more.

Lee dozed fitfully, on and off for he knew not how long. Each time he would wake up, the dog would be nearby, padding around the clearing, snuffling at the ground and growling softly to herself, or curled up beside him. She was in remarkable condition really, if a bit underfed. Someone must have been giving her meds. It was difficult to imagine anyone giving good anti-radiation meds to a dog. But to each his own. It certainly wasn't hurting Lee any.

"Hey," he rasped. "Come here, you."

She made her way over to him, cautiously, but with her tail swishing slightly. When the dog hunkered down in front of him he could see what he had clearly felt before; the dog wore a collar. It was an old, ratty thing, though the dog could not have been more than two or three. There was no tag with a name on it, but someone had burned something into the leather; the letters C.E.K. Between the letters were the words they evidently stood for: Cylon Eradicator Kanine. Lee allowed himself a soft chuckle, wondering that someone could spell "Eradicator" perfectly well, but botch "canine."

"Well, I think C.E.K is a terrible name." The dog stared at him intently, thrilled just to have someone talking to her. "But it has potential. I think… Seek. I'll call you Seek. Whaddaya think?" Blink. "Heh. Ok then."

After the first couple of days, the search party ran out of supplies had were forced to pull back to the Resistance Base at Delphi Union High School. There had been some argument on the issue, with the Resistance half of the group arguing in favor or returning, and the Galactica crew wanting to press on. In the end, it was Starbuck who decided it. They needed to rest and re-supply, maybe organize themselves a little better, and go out again from a position of strength. She wasn't giving up, not by a long shot. They would find him, he would be alive, and she would kick his ass for worrying them all like this when he was really off somewhere enjoying the sights, looting a bar or something…

A night and a day passed, and the Galactica crew chafed to resume the hunt. Starbuck, Helo, and Sharon met with Anders, to discuss where the heaviest cylon activity had been lately, look at some crudely drawn maps, and plan the S.A.R.

"To tell you the truth," Anders said, pointing at a broad swath of land colored in red on the map, "if he's anywhere up here I don't think you're going to find him. Toaster activity is pretty hot up there."

"They were attacked here," Helo said, pointing at the creek on the map, "and as near as we can tell were moving east."

"Towards the red zone. We haven't sent any raiding parties up there in weeks now."

"What if," Sharon put in, "whoever killed Faus, captured Apollo."

"Could be. When Starbuck was wounded they didn't kill her."

"I'm a woman. I had some use to them." Starbuck all but felt her face darken, remember her time in the "hospital," and her cylon doctor. "Why would they keep Lee?"

"Interrogation. They won't expect him here. When you came, it was part of the plan. The Scriptures said someone would return for the Arrow of Apollo. Coming back a second time wasn't part of the plan. Anyway, they'll want to know," she swallowed, "where I am."

"So say that they did capture him. Where would they take him?"

Sharon pointed to the red zone.

"So we get some raiding parties together and start the search. The longer we wait…"

"Whoa whoa whoa. Did you hear what I said? No one goes up there."

"What I heard were excuses. If Lee is up there, and if he's alive, then we're going to find him."

"If, he's alive. That you said yourself. And if he's not then we've just wasted gods know how many lives hunting after a dead man."

Kara had not been looking at Anders, but had been leaning hard on her hands over top of the map, which had been laid out on the hood of one of the resistance's trucks. Now she turned, slowly, dangerously, to face him. She moved in, her jaw set, her hands clenched at her sides. Racetrack, watching, was reminded of the few occasions she had seen the lieutenant confronting Captain Adama. She moved inside the safety zone, and was staring him down. Starbuck's voice was low, her gaze hard.

"Maybe it was a mistake for me to assume you would understand, pro pyramid player playing soldier. Apollo's our friend, and he's our captain. He came here to help us bail out your ass and we are not leaving him out there if there's even a chance he's alive. We don't leave a man behind."

"Hey, I get it ok. I do. Don't forget, we came after you."

"Yeah well I guess it's different when it's not a frak buddy you're missing huh?" She turned, to see that the Galactica men and women who had been gathered behind her were standing taller than they can been before, their expressions grimly determined as they were reminded of the standard of fidelity that had been the hallmark not only of their years in the service, but of their lives since the attack. "Saddle up," she said stiffly. "These frakkers don't want to come with us we'll go ourselves. Take only what you need. Let's move."

The destruction was horrifying.

Lee had seen terrible things since the war began. He had known that the Colonies had been devastated, had suffered nightmares in which he watched entire cities blown off the worlds. He had imagined friends and family members dead or dying, and he did not know a single soul who had not. But he had not seen such devastation on such a personal level before.

It was only a small cabin, built into the side of a hill. The logs looked to have been hand hewn, and it was clear that the one who had constructed the cabin had put many loving and dedicated hours into it. It must have been so peaceful, living here alone in the mountains. And it was peaceful now.

The door had been ripped off its hinges, and lay ten feet away, broken over the trunk of a tree. Bullet holes were evident in the logs. Inside, furniture was overturned, class was smashed, and blood spattered the walls. The old man slumped over the overturned table had not been shot; he had been beaten to death. Beaten to death and left there.

Lee stood helplessly in the door way, taking in the scene. The dog wandered around in the interior of the cabin, whimpering softly. She had come from here. As soon as Lee had found his feet and made as if to walk she had bounded in this direction, as if it did not occur to her to go anywhere else. And it probably hadn't. It seemed as if the only items that had not been displaced were hers; a couple of tin bowls in the corner, a leash hanging on the back of the door. Maybe she had wanted him to fix it, put it all back the way it was. Well, there was no doing that.

"You weren't here, were you pup?" He took a step in, and another, leaning on a large stick he had found for support. "Gods, they really must have hated him."

Hated. It was still difficult to imagine the machines with emotions, even after the time he had spent with Sharon, even after the malice he had seen in those who had tortured him. What could this one little old man could have done to make them despise him so, brutalize him like this? Of course it was obvious. It was as clear as the hunting rifle lying beside him. Hermit or not, no man stood by and let his home world be destroyed, his people killed. He had probably been picking them off. Living up here by himself, he must have been a handy shot, a hunter.

Lee ran his fingers over the bullet holes in the outer wall of the cabin. Big holes.

The first gifts Seek's owner provided were by far the greatest treasures Lee had seen. First, there was food in the cabinets; nonperishable stuffs in sealed cans. There was also a med kit, and anti-radiation meds that looked to have been scavenged from Delphi General Hospital. These items occupied Lee for a good hour, as he ate and treated his various injuries as best he could. He shared everything he found with Seek, since not to do so would have felt rather like coming into a starving man's house and eating a whole turkey in front of him. He even gave her anti-radiation meds, and when he injected the meds into the scruff of her neck he could see the tracks where he owner had been doing the same. For companionship no doubt, and because a dog was probably a very useful thing to have up here.

After eating and patching himself together, Lee started cleaning the place up a bit. He didn't know what else to do. Anyway, it was almost criminal that a home a man built with his own hands, and loved, be left this way with him rotting inside of it. Not even really thinking about what he was doing, he began tipping chairs upright, placing belongings back on shelves, stacking books and papers neatly. He even dragged the man over to one of the chairs, sat him in it, and covered him with a blanket.

He was not unrewarded for his efforts. He found the knapsack hanging on a peg behind the door, with a cane leaning in the corner behind it. Then there was the rifle, and half a box of ammunition left in a cabinet over the stove. A length of rope, a hatchet, a canteen. These he packed into the knapsack carefully, with a few books (one of which looked to be the old man's journal), which he knew he wouldn't be able to bring himself to leave behind. There was a blanket, an oilskin duster, and a good knife. Gods love these survivalist types, he thought. With these, and the food he had found, he would be able to make his way pretty well, and hopefully find the others. Yes, things were definitely looking up for Lee Adama. He smiled wryly to himself. Hell of a universe, where this was "up."

Though it made him a little squeamish, sharing such a small space with such a very dead man, Lee stayed the night in the cabin. It would have been downright foolish, staying out in the open when he could have had shelter. He slept dreamlessly.

The following dawn he left the cabin feeling as refreshed as one could expect. He carried out everything that he had decided to take with him, and was about to leave the place behind him, when an unexpected thought gave him pause. He very much did not want to leave this place here like this, scarred by the enemy, with such a brave man lying beaten inside. He remembered seeing a fire kit inside. He hadn't taken it, because starting a fire every night would have marked his trail. Setting down his knapsack and the rifle, he made his way back inside. It was with unconscious ceremony that he spread the lighter fluid about the place and lit the match. Of course, the cylons would know where he was… but any searchers would know as well.

"Lords of Kobol," he said softly, as he watched the place burn. "Watch over your servant. He saved my life, and defended one of your Colonies as best he could, which honors you. Take him to you. Let him rest in peace."
It was Gavin that spotted it first, a huge plume of black smoke rising to the north. Nothing had been seen burning on Caprica in weeks; the Cylons were very bent on keeping as much of the infrastructure in tact as they could. This had to be a massive fire, for them to see it from such a distance. A signal fire, maybe…

"Think that's your captain?" Anders asked. He and several of the others had come along with the Galactica searchers, partly out of shame, partly because they had a strong sense of territory after fighting here for so long, and didn't want strangers wandering unsupervised on theirs.

"Something's going on up there. Anyway, it's the only lead we have." She raised her voice, so that it would carry to the whole group. "Let's haul ass people. If that is Lee, the cylons will have seen it too."

The cane and med kit made traveling easier, but Lee still had to stop regularly to rest. Seek stayed with him, tense and hyper alert. He was glad of the support, and of the security he had in knowing that she would be aware of any approach long before he was. He talked to her at first as they traveled, but as the day wore on, and he wore out, he trucked on silently. It was probably better that way anyway.

They encountered their first cylon patrol sometime in the mid afternoon, on the day after they left the cabin. Seek pulled up short, bristled and bared her teeth, with a low rumble starting deep in her chest and rising to a snarl in her throat. Lee wasted now time. Grabbing her by her collar, he hauled her back with him into the cover of a thicket and wrapped on arm around her neck, the opposite hand around her muzzle to silence her.

"Shhh," he cautioned. Damned if she didn't seem to understand him. The dog silenced, and stopped straining against him, though she didn't relax. After a few moments, reassuring himself that she wouldn't get up if he released her, Lee slowly let her go and reached for his rifle. He had a round in the chamber by the time the first cylons appeared. It was one of the blonde woman models, dressed all in white, leading three centurions with her. She didn't seem to be looking for anything in particular, nor did she seem aware of him. Maybe one hundred yards away when she came into view, she moved with purpose, but not in his direction. Had he still been walking, she would have been moving parallel to him. Actually, she looked to be heading roughly back the way he had come. Investigating the fire maybe. And if she got there and found his trail she'd be coming around after him.

"Whadaya think, boss?" he whispered. "Think we can take 'em?"

The dog chuffed and strained forward, but didn't get up. It was sheer idiocy of course. He was one badly injured man with a dog and a rifle. But he had one thing working, both for and against him, that his opponents did not have. He was very, very angry. If Marcel being shot, and Faus' neck being broken, and him being shot and brutally tortured had not been enough to enrage him to the point of lunacy, which he had witnessed at the old man's college and quite thoroughly pushed him over the edge of reason. He had to swallow hard to keep from growling himself.

He pulled three more bullets out of his pocked and laid them out on the ground beside him trigger hand. Of course it wasn't likely that the bullets would penetrate the centurion's armor, but maybe if he hit them right in the eye…

As soon as the first shot was fired Seek was off and running. Cylon number one hadn't even hit the ground and Lee had his next shot loaded. The crack of the rifle was accompanied by a startled shout, as Seek hit the female cylon full in the chest and knocked her back. Lee pushed back his concern for the animal, whipped another bullet into the chamber. The final centurion was confused, not sure where the more immediate threat lay, and was about to bring his guns to bear on the dog when he met Lee's bullet. It was too late to save his leader anyway; Seek had torn out the cylon's throat.

"Cylon Eradicator. Right." He said in amazement. He whistled sharply, and Seek trotted back to help him up.

The search party had just arrived at the cabin, what was left of it, when they heard the shooting. It didn't last very long. Actually, there were only three shots, and one shout, then silence. With only a perfunctory glance around the charred remains of the cabin, the searchers set off towards the sound.

What they found when they arrived at the scene the following morning frightened and amazed them. Three centurions were down, the glass slits that everyone supposed where eyes each shattered with a single shot. That was amazing enough, but not half so amazing as the human model cylon lying in the loam, her white clothing dark with blood. Something had torn her throat out, ripping aware the flesh right down to the spine. Sharon covered her mouth and turned away; the others just gaped.

"What could do something like that?" Landin breathed.

"Looks like the shooter was here," Shields called. He stood about a hundred yards away, near a honeysuckle thicket. "I can see where he was lying under the brush."

"Any tracks?"

"'Bout what you'd expect. One man with a… with a damn big gun." He held up a shell casing, found under the leaves. "50 cal, looks like. Some dog tracks too. Thing's got a foot the size of my fist."

"Can you tell which way they went?"

"West," Shields answered readily, with a jerk of his chin. "With a limp."

"Lee," Starbuck breathed. She didn't even notice Anders watching her, hardly noticed anyone at all. "Let's move people!"

"Why couldn't I have randomly happened upon a horse, huh? Or even a donkey. A donkey would have been nice. But nope, gods see fit to saddle with this damn hound dog. An ox even. You can ride oxen right? Hey, are you even listening to me."

Seek had not, in fact, been listening. The dog had made her way down to a stream at the base of a slight incline, a few yards away from where Lee sat. The constant travel had taken its toll on Lee, and he had found that he had to rest more frequently throughout the day. Still, he felt he was making good progress, considering that he ought to have been dead. Seek, who had waded out a short way into the water, lifted her head to gaze intently at him. It was an expression that reminded him of Starbuck, when she was trying to psych someone out at the evening card came. He couldn't help but laugh.

"Two of Starbuck. Now there's something I don't need. What are you doing down there anyway? You can't be that thirsty."

Seek just stuck her head back in the water. Washing her face maybe. He hadn't been able to wipe all of the dried blood off of her muzzle after the pervious day's cylon adventure. Lee smiled to himself and shook his head. That, in hindsight, was a bad idea. His head was throbbing, and every muscle, even those in his neck, ached.

"Come up here will you?" It hadn't taken him long to discover that stroking the dog's fur calmed him, and, somehow, made the pain less. "You hungry?"

Of course she was. Damn dog ate like a bear. He had some canned peaches, but doubted she wanted those. Even is she did, he wanted them more. There was some jerky too, which he pulled out of the knapsack. She was focused on him utterly, every part of her at the ready. Didn't take much for this one.

"Ok, but first, we're going to practice. Ready." Seek chuffed softly at him, zeroed in on the jerky, her tail wagging slightly. Lee ran through a few of the drills he'd been working on with her. Seek was a quick study, and executed each new lesson flawlessly.

Lee tossed Seek a piece of jerky. He had decided yesterday, after he had witnessed the awesome killing power of his new companion, that it would be a good idea to make sure he had total control over her. After all, if he ever found the others…when he found the others, he would have to make sure he could keep the dog off of Sharon. It seemed someone had already put a lot of time into training Seek. It was just a matter of Lee teaching her to respect his authority. Again, it didn't take much. He was all she had, and she was already devoted to him utterly. Of course it helped his cause that he was the provider of food. They sat for a while, eating and enjoying the rest. Lee didn't want to stay long, though. He wanted to make as much progress as possible today. He and Seek had been traveling at night too, but they moved even slower then, and he covered the most ground during the daylight hours.

"Time to get moving again huh?" Bracing himself with the cane and the dog, Lee pushed himself to his feet and hoisted the knapsack onto his back, and the rifle over his shoulder. "Come on."

A few hours later, he and Seek emerged onto a roadway stretching east to west. It was a dirt road, but had clearly been used recently. He wondered, could this be the way to the mysterious Resistance Base? He had lived on Caprica for most of his life, but had never spent much time in the Delphi area. Starbuck had moved there after Zak had died, though she was only really there on leave, and he had transferred to Atlantia. It had been conscious, avoiding her when he was home. It had just sort of happened that way, that he wasn't ready to see her really… not for two years. You're such a frakin' ass, Lee.

Anyway, that was beside the point. Did he follow this road, or didn't he? On the one hand, this road could lead him to the very place he had been trying to get all the while. On the other, it could… not. And wherever "not" was, it was bound to be crawling with cylons. And it was open. If he stayed on the road he would be exposed to all manner of unpleasantness.

In the end, Lee decided to follow the road from inside the tree line. He would keep his eye on Seek, who had already proven herself to be as fine a cylon detector as ever there was. He would have to remember that, for when he returned to Galactica. Quick and efficient, have dogs sniff everybody in the fleet. Where there any dogs in the fleet, he wondered. He had never heard of there being any, or seen any. Someone had to have been traveling with a dog. He would not be surprised to learn that any dogs had been killed for food.

Seek grew impatient, and jogged off to the west. With a resigned sigh, Lee turned to follow her. And least he wasn't going in circles.

The search party was pinned, and under heavy fire.

It had happened suddenly, and Starbuck was still reeling. The sudden burst of gunfire had taken down Tallys, and Shields was wounded and out of commission. A resistance guy she didn't know had been killed. The cylons were everywhere. There was nowhere to go.

Following the road had seemed a safe enough bet. They had lost the trail that they assumed was Lee's a while back, and figured that, if he came out somewhere along the same road they did, he would follow it. They already knew that they were moving faster than he was, so just followed along in the direction he had been going: west. The resistance scout that had done the recon on this area had neglected to draw the cylon outpost, an old truck stop, on the map.

"Can you see how many!" Helo shouted.

"No! I think most of them are inside!"

"But not all!" Sharon put in. "If we don't move they're going to flank us."

No sooner had the words left her mouth than one of the resistance fighters was hit from behind; a few cylons had somehow managed to move, unnoticed, behind their position.

"Frak!"

"What do you wanna do Kara?" That was Anders, who had pulled his guy back next to Shields and had turned now to face the threat behind them. If they stayed here, they would be cut to pieces. At least the Galactica crew had thought to come down bearing explosive rounds. Boom! That did for one right there.

"We'll have to make a break for it!" Landin barked.

"A break for what! They're everywhere!"

Helo pulled a pin and launched his concussion grenade through the window of the old service station. At least there would be no more shooting from that direction. Starbuck craned her head around the fuel pump which she had taken cover behind, and knocked out the centurion which had been firing on them from the roof of the diner. For the first time, she was regretting having split there forces. She had been right to assume that they would cover more ground in two units, thus limiting their time in the red zone. But, in hindsight, it might have been best to move through cylon territory with as large a concentration of fighters as possible. Now she, Anders, Helo, Sharon, Gavin, Landin, an injured Shields, and three other resistance fighters, one of whom was also wounded, were fighting for their lives. Tallys, and one of Anders' men, had already lost that fight.

Helo and Anders between them had managed to take out the cylons that were behind them, but more would soon replace them. Let them call in a raider and it would be all over.

"Make for the service station!" she called. It would bring them closer to their enemies, as its outer door faced that of the diner, but at least they would have better cover.

Sharon and Landin got hold of Shields, and Kara helped Anders haul his injured man. The sprint across the lot to the recently bombed out service station seemed to take ages, with bullets ricocheting everywhere. A shard of concrete sliced Starbuck's calf. Gavin took a bullet in the chest.

"Come on come on come on!" Starbuck called. She couldn't shoot worth a damn, carrying dead weight as she was, and Sharon and Landon were tied up as well. Helo reached the door first, and turned to cover them as they pushed through. No cylons had survived the grenade blast undamaged, and those that were still moving were quickly dispatched. Shields and Anders' man were settled in a corner and given their rifles; of course they wouldn't do them much good, if the cylons got passed the defenders who were still standing.

Sharon fought like a demon possessed. Kara had underestimated the cylon woman's fear of being reclaimed by her former comrades. She had not, however, underestimated Helo's fear of the exact same thing; the two of them, fighting side by side, fired more rounds in the space of a few minutes than Kara believed she had fired through the entire fight. Helo pitched a couple more grenades, blowing huge breaches in the diner wall, but not really doing much visible damage to the cylons sheltered behind it.

Seconds felt like minutes felt like hours as the fight raged on.

"Reload!" Starbuck called, as her clip ran dry. Then again, when he didn't respond immediately, "Anders! Ammo!"

"I'm out!"

"Me too!" Helo barked. "Frak frak frak!"

It didn't take long after that. Sharon and Landin both ran dry shortly thereafter, and they all sagged with their backs to the concrete, heaving with exertion and fear. Moments later, the cylons stopped firing. The silence was, as cliché as it sounds, deafening.

"I got three for sure," Anders said softly into the quiet.

"Me too. I think we all got a piece."

"Frakkers were standing right in the window, didn't even try to take cover."

"You think we got them all?" Anders asked without conviction.

"No way."

They didn't really speak after that. They all, each one, expected that any moment the shooting would begin again, or a raider would fly in and blast the hell out of them, or something equally devastating. They did not for a moment assume they had won.

And they were right.

Several of the human model cylons walked casually out into the lot, with no indication of fear of the humans boxed up in the service station. They were all recognizable models. Kara, with a shudder, noticed the one she knew as Simon among them. Then there was her pal Leoben, and the blonde she had fought in the museum at Delphi, the one Sharon called, simply, Number Six. A number of centurions came in behind them, all with guns trained on the service station. They stood ready to wipe the defenders off the planet. Yet, for whatever reason, they didn't.

"They don't want me killed," Sharon whispered. "The baby dies if this body dies."

"Pretty trusting aren't they? How do they know we won't shoot them where they stand?"

"We stopped shooting. They're not stupid. Anyway, they wouldn't care. If we kill those bodies they'll be downloaded into others, and the centurions will charge and kill us all anyway."

"Anyone else not liking the odds here?"

Helo, eyes trained on the cylons in the lot, raised a hand.

"So…what do we do?"

"I don't…"

Kara was cut off mid sentence by a long, shrill whistle, stabbing at them out of the forest. The cylons whipped around, or the human models did; the centurions were yet trained on the service station. A knowing smile split Simon's face as he muttered something, though they couldn't tell what, and Number Six took a step back. What she thought she was stepping back from…that remained to be seen.

"What's going on?" Starbuck asked. No one answered.

At length, the cylons turned back to face them. Was that fear on Number Six's face? Impossible. She was seeing only what she wanted to see. Sharon had said it; the cylons had nothing to fear. Leoben took a step towards the service station…

And pitched over. A bullet (a large caliber rifle, judging but the way his face blew off when the bullet exited), tore through his skull like paper. They heard the report of the rifle a second later. Bastard could shoot, whoever he was. The rest of the search party, catching up with them?

A second round, followed shortly by a third, took out one of the centurions. Quick thinking Helo took advantage of the distraction to rip the pin out of his last remaining grenade and, with the pin still in his teeth, pitched it out into the lot. Simon and Number Six dove out of the way; all but two of the centurions were not so lucky. Shields hissed at them, and slid his rifle across the floor… his still loaded rifle. Starbuck snatched it up with a grateful nod. In the confusion, she was able to dispatch one of the remaining cylons, which had been damaged by the grenade blast, but was still upright.

The whistle sounded again. The sniper's attention seemed to be focused primarily on the centurions, who had begun firing back now in the direction the rounds were coming from. There was a brief lull in the rifle fire, probably the result of the sniper scrambling to change positions. It seemed as if the sniper was drawing closer.

And he wasn't the only thing that was. It came out of no where, a brown-black blur shooting out from the tree line and across the street. Too late, Number Six spun to face it. Had her response been any quicker, or had the beast been any smaller, she might have put up a nasty fight. But the animal moved with a brutal single mindedness. Though the defenders in the service station had no way of knowing it, the creature was targeting first the most familiar enemy. The blur solidified into a massive, bearish mass that bowled Number Six over. The cylon pushed the dog back hard, flipping it over, but was soon set upon again. The dog wasted no time with her second lunge; she grabbed the enemy by the throat and shook her head furiously, simultaneously tearing into the jugular and snapping the neck. With barely any hesitation, the monster wheeled on Simon. All the service station defenders could do was stare on in fascinated horror. They weren't even under cover anymore. Without realizing it, they had risen to their feet and moved to the doorway and windows. Absently, Starbuck noticed that the rifle had stopped firing.

The dog would have had a harder time with Simon. The cylon man was standing with fists clenched, ready to meet the beast head on. his face was expressionless, which was as close to grim as either Starbuck or Sharon had ever seen him. Sensing that this foe would not be knocked down so easily, the dog stalked towards him, body low to the ground, fangs bared and guard hairs bristled. It was a fearsome sight. Blood still dripped from the muzzle. Of course with Simon standing prepared for the attack the dog didn't stand a chance; all he had to do was land one solid punch to knock its skull in.

Then the momentarily hushed rifle decided to weigh in. The shot, coming from somewhere off to the left, took out Simon's knee cap. Almost in tandem with the shot, the dog sprang, slamming into the cylon's chest as he buckled and knocking him back. Frak that creature was quick. Jaws had just closed on his neck when…

"Down!"

The dog dropped, all her weight on Simon's chest, her teeth tight on his throat; she would be able to finish him if he made any move. It was a wonder he could breathe with all that weight on him, though in his place Starbuck supposed she wouldn't be doing much breathing anyway.

Or in the place she herself was in, because what happened next took her breath away. Limping towards them, leaning heavily on a burnished cane with his hunting rifle slung over his shoulder, was Lee Adama. Starbuck was only dimly aware of Landin and Sharon going back inside to help Shields and the other man up. She was barely aware of her feet moving. With Anders and Helo flanking her, she made her way slowly towards the apparition coming towards her.

Lee was cleaner than she would have expected, though caked blood could still be seen in his hair and on his clothes. He was gaunt, and pale, and shaking on his feet. He had had to move quickly to get here after he had heard the shooting; quicker than he should have. Gods he looked like death.

Lee reached Simon before they did, and lowered himself painfully to one knee. He braced himself on the cane with one hand, and with the other absently stroked the bristled coat of the huge shepherd dog that held Simon in an iron grip.

"Hello, Simon," he said simply. His voice was low, but not weak. Simon tried to respond, but the words came out in a strangled gurgled. "What? How am I alive? Oh well, you see Simon, when I die… it will not be because you killed me."

Simon's eyes widened.

The noise Lee made was like air being forced between clenched teeth. And that quickly, it was over. The dog was a proficient killer. Using both the cane and the dog for support, Lee pushed himself to his feet. His eyes, bloodshot, focused on Starbuck, Helo, and Anders in turn, then beyond them.

Slowly, Lee tightened his fingers around the worn leather collar Seek wore. His fingers touched his palm not a moment too soon. A low, dangerous rumbled in her chest, and Seek longed forward. Lee's restraining hand pulled her up sharply, so that the dog was standing on her hind legs and straining forward, ears laid back teeth bared. What had begun as a low growl was now a savage snarl.

And Lee's face contorted with agony. What color was left in his face drained away. His body shook violently. The nearest hand to Seek when he had spotted Sharon emerging from the service station behind Starbuck and the others had been his left, and it was against his left arm that Seek now struggled. The bullet wound in his left shoulder, poorly healing to begin with, tore with the stress the one hundred fifty point dog was putting on her Lee's arm. He broke into a sweat. She was hardly pulling as hard as she could, but she was pulling hard enough. Lee rocked back and forth, staring hard at Sharon's face. And she saw the pain there.

Lee let his eyes slip shut, and with all the strength of mind and body he could rally, hauled Seek back down.

"Sit," he rasped.

The dog obeyed, muscles quivering, and Lee slowly uncurled his stiff fingers from around the collar. He was still shaking, still rocking slightly, back and forth. The dog had stopped growling, and now, with ears forward, simply fixed its gaze intently upon the cylon her new master did not seem to want her to kill. Lee was relieved she had obeyed him; they hadn't known each other very long, and he hadn't been altogether certain she would.

"Lee?"

Kara's voice quavered slightly. Gods, Lee. She moved towards him slowly, wary of his companion with the blood concealing on her snout. He seemed to look through her, the pain washing over him in waves. He was a wreck. Blood blossoms bloomed on his clothing where old wounds had been reopened. She could see ligature marks on his wrists, what looked like a rope burn on his neck. Ever so slowly, because she wasn't really sure he was aware of her, she reached to him, brushed her fingers against his arm…

And caught him halfway to the ground as he legs gave out and he sank to the pavement. Lee Adama was overcome with emotion and an exhaustion which, until now, until he was safe, adrenaline had not allowed him to feel. But here she was, here they were, and it would be ok now. If he died it would be with them. And just like that, the fire went out. He was on his knees and in her arms as she held him almost as tightly as he held her. His face buried in the crook her neck, breathing her in, he wept silently and unabashedly. Seek whimpered, paced back and forth, confused. Lee was only distantly aware of her. After only moments Kara felt his weight sag, and she shifted from her knees to a seated position, bringing him down with her to cradle him in her arms. His face, as every muscle in his body, was lax. Tears stained his face. Kara Thrace trembled, and grieved. How had he lived like this? How could she survive seeing him like this?

"We have to get him to a medic," she said. "Right now."