Missed marks
AN: This story is set during "Lay down your burdens, part I". It deals with Apollo's feelings after the rather awkward goodbye right before Kara's rescue mission on Caprica. This story is written in what is becoming my signature style of second person, but it's not really common for me to get inside a man's head, so I hope it makes sense and does him justice. Hope you enjoy.
Spoilers: Like I said, everything leading up to season 2 final, except that there are no elections coming up, there's no mention of New Caprica and Roslin is president.
Disclaimer: Don't own them. If I did, I would not have let them frak things up so considerably.
Now on with it…
The silence which envelopes the room around you after she's opened the hatch and closed it behind her with a deafening thud, weighs you down more effectively than the aftermath of a Cylon attack. Whenever your Viper lands, the smoke clears in your head and you leave the plane in the Chief's capable hands, there's always this one moment where your mind has to catch up with your body before it too touches solid ground. A complete and total adrenaline rush. It's the same here.
It always is around her. The smoke, the barriers, the adrenaline. Followed inevitably by the debris, the fatigue and the realization that it won't be long before you're going to have to do it all over again. Only with a Cylon attack, you know the damage is physical and you know how to dodge the worst of what they throw at you. Mostly. With her, you just can't seem to get yourself out of her direct line of fire. And boy does she know how to hit a mark. Whereas you miss yours. Every. Single. Frakking. Time.
You missed it the first time when you first met her. How in frak's name had your baby brother come across this enchanting, mesmerizing, tantalizing creature before you did? He wasn't right for her. Didn't Zak know he would never be able to tame her, that she would always have the upper hand? Of was that just your jealousy seeping in?
Once more you missed it at Zak's funeral, when you were pissed with her, your father, your mother and mostly yourself because you should have been mourning his death (you were, obviously) instead of wondering what the frak she was doing holding onto your dad instead of you. The guilt for wanting her even at that most inappropriate time ate at you for a long time since then. Still does, doesn't it, Mr. Propriety? Mr. Stick-up-your-ass?
The same guilt made you frak things up the third time when you finally met again, two years after, when your and everybody else's existence had fallen apart. She was in the brig (where else) and you were tightly holding onto the responsibilities of your rank and training. Too tightly to be really happy to see her, or to allow yourself to let it show. Already too busy with the repercussions of being her CAG, her superior officer. And again, bound by rules not to touch her.
And nothing has changed since then but your rank.
Instead, the list goes on. You don't tell her about your fear of having lost her forever when she shows up flying a stolen, rigged, living, bleeding Cylon Raider. She fraks up her knee and you just give her hell. Another chance blown.
She shows up wearing a frakkin' dress to the Colonial Day celebration and instead of manning up there and then, and frak the consequences (and her), you practically hand her over, gift-wrapped and all, to none other than your slimy new vice-president Gaius Baltar. You never thought you could resent the man more than you always did, but in fact, it turns out you can.
Does that open your eyes? Noooo, of course not. Why would it? You fight as you accuse her of getting her pants down for anybody who asks (hiding your jealousy behind a thin veil of anger; if only you would ever develop the guts to ask her yourself), physically as well as verbally bruising each other, inflicting as much pain as you can to the other one in order to try and obliterate the real source of your heartbreak: your everlasting inability to say three short one-syllable words. And then stick with them.
Shortly after that she leaves for some ill-advised quest for the president and while fearing for her life yet again as she struggles her way through Cylon-occupied Caprica, you also worry about too many things at the same time. Such as taking sides against your dad in what is in all definition an act of mutiny, about Sharon (no, not Sharon; she's a toaster disguised as something human) shooting your dad and Tigh making a mess of things while taking over command. But none of those fears compare to the sickening thought that, if she doesn't come back, she'll never know you cared. More deeply than you know how to be comfortable with. All in all; it's enough to make your head spin.
Of course she does come back. And within that one moment, as she rounds the corner and smiles upon seeing you, you just know that now is the time to break the cycle. So the moments she spots you in the small crowd waiting for her (seemingly so happy to see you), you break away from the others and, seeing her and only her, you wrap your arms around her tightly, holding on for dear life, not caring who sees and who gives a damn. She's here, she's safe and for just that one halted moment in time, she's yours.
The kiss of course wasn't planned. You loved it though, even if it startled the both of you. A tiny flicker of hope settles in your stubborn heart, but gets quenched for its effort later that day as first you fight (because how dare she bring back not only Helo, but also the carbon copy of that blasted piece of scrap metal almost assassinating your father) and then she refuses to talk to you about what must have been a very difficult time for her.
Again, everything you are to her falls short. Again, she's within arm's length but your aim is lousy. Story of your life. On impulse, hidden between words offered as help, you do say those three little words, but when she picks up on them (as you knew she would), she's merely teasing you with them as if desperately trying to reduce the meaning to a minimum, scared to death about the repercussions of taking them seriously. Pleased as she might be to hear them, she refuses to do the lovey-dovey thing and fall into your arms and for just frakking once make it easy on you.
And you, to no surprise, don't have the guts to show her otherwise.
Hours later, it takes all your self-control not to break down. Instead, you try to let your resolve take over. You're her superior officer, her CAG. Perhaps, every now and then, something resembling a friend. Maybe, just maybe, if you can repeat that over and over again in your tired, muddled brain, you might be able to leave it at that. And maybe even move on, somehow.
Yeah, right.
That's been weeks ago and you are still, all by the book, making things impossible for the both of you. You almost, almost, sleep with her after a drunken brawl, but you manage to stop that before it spins out of control, as it perhaps should have done. If nothing else, it might have lifted the eerie tension for just that one moment. The price the both of you would have to pay might just have been worth it. Or not. Because already, you're trying to move on without her. Already, there are others involved. Not just the man she's left behind, this Resistance leader called Sam Anders. But also Dee.
Sweet Anastasia. Perhaps she's the one you can move on with? Gods know she's willing, but should you use her like that? She does seem to have genuine feelings for you and you hate yourself for using this kind-natured woman as nothing more than a sweet distraction, biting your lips every time you're with her just to prevent yourself from groaning out the wrong name at a critical moment. Why can't you fall in love with her for real? She is quite beautiful, funny, friendly, caring. Soft and feminine. A lot of things Kara is most definitely not.
Well, that answers that question. Most sufficiently.
Your transfer to Pegasus and taking over there had come as something of a breather to the both of you. While Kara stayed on board of Galactica, at least you didn't have to run into each other all the time, highlighting the ever present tension between the both of you, now with poor Dee caught in the middle, not as unaware as you would like her to be either.
You can't say which woman you miss more.
Yes you can, you frakking idiot. That's the whole point.
Slouched on that couch, your meal forgotten and going cold on the coffee table, you suddenly decide you've reached your breaking point. You cannot, will not let her go with as little as "good hunting" and the not so sincerely meant wish that she'll find this sorry excuse for a replacement lover. Because if she does find this guy and by some Gods given miracle they both come out of this mess alive, than you'll forever have to bear witness to their public display of heroism and happiness. And on top of that the realization that you made it possible.
The ultimate gift for the happy couple: your heart, bleeding and shattered, on a silver platter.
Dramatic? Of course. But she does not hold the patent for drama. If there's one thing you share, that's pretty much it. The saying 'better than nothing' does not apply here.
Before you can change your mind yet again and refusing to calculate it through (where has that habit gotten you in the past), you spurt out of the room and hurry down to the flight deck, where, thank all the Gods, she's still doing the last-minute pre-flight checks of all Raptors, bellowing out instructions as she goes.
"Captain Thrace."
Just in time you remind yourself that on deck, formality is paramount. She looks up at you, slightly disturbed and a tad annoyed at you for breaking her conversation.
"Commander Adama, can it wait? I'm quite busy over here and we don't have much time to spare."
"Sorry for the inconvenience Captain, but it can't. Follow me, please."
Unable to just deny a direct order (unless it's given by Tigh), she hands the notepad she's holding to the chief and follows you back to the room you've just vacated. With a dull thud she closes the hatch, but stares at you in astonishment as you lock it behind you. All decorum instantly forgotten, she opens the verbal attack as surprise gives way to anger.
"What the frak Lee? Whatever it is, can't it wait? I don't have time for these games now!"
"They're not games. And you'd better make time, because no, it can't wait. I can't wait."
Great. Another yelling match. Not the best way to start a two year overdue love-declaration. But if you'd ever figured out a right way, you wouldn't have been in this situation.
Gods…some more of this and you'll certainly get more mad than Gaius frakkin' Baltar. Then again, might not be such a bad thing. After all, she did sleep with him…Get. To. The. Point. Commander.
She sighs in resignation, leans against the wall with her arms crossed, not giving you any leeway. As usual.
Why can't things be easy? For once?
"Well? I'm listening."
The tiniest opening ever, but you take it. Cling to it.
"There's things that need to be said between us Kara. Issues we've left for way too long."
"And you want to resolve them now, minutes before my rescue mission? Gods, Lee, you can't straighten out two frakking years of shit between us in five minutes!"
"Of course I damn well know, but if we wait, again, until you come back, then…"
You pause, completing your sentence in your mind, yet again too scared to say them out loud. Not even when time is running out.
Because once you come back, with Anders in tow, you'll be too wrapped up in being with him to even notice me. I won't be the one you'll want to kiss anymore, not even in a drunken moment. And if you would want me, I'm not sure I could be there. Not when there are others involved in our mess.
I won't be a cheater. I won't become the worst version of myself. Or am I there already?
"Then what, Lee? Say what you need to say and do it now, or I'll leave."
"I…I want you to be happy, Kara. I want us both to be happy."
She shrugs. Dismissing the point. Again.
"Thanks. Same here. Was that it? Can I go now?"
"Have you heard me?"
"Of course. And it's very sweet of you. But I knew it already. It wasn't necessary to point it out again."
Frak. Gods, give me a break.
"It is, Kara. It's not just necessary, it's the most important thing I've ever said to you."
She sighs, her posture slackening, her defenses down. She's vulnerable now and very much afraid. You wonder if you're the only one she can show that side of herself to.
"Lee…"
No. It's not hard to guess where this conversation will lead you to if you let her take over. Nowhere. Back in the unbreakable, unbearable cycle.
"Do you love him?"
Now there's an answer you don't want to hear. Yet, you have to ask the question. And you need to know the ultimate, true answer. She looks up at you, uncertainty swimming in her eyes. Cruelly, you feast on it. The longer she waits, the less sincere her answer is if it's positive.
"He's a good man, Lee."
Stalling the answer. How alike you two are sometimes.
"I don't dispute that. But that wasn't my question."
She thinks again, before shrugging.
"I care. But don't ask me about love, I don't know how to."
Yes she does. "Yes you do."
"No Lee, I don't. You know that."
Do you? "I know you're afraid to. That's not the same as being incapable of."
"Semantics. And what does it matter either way?"
"Everything."
Annoyed with her own inactivity, she starts pacing up and down the room, avoiding eye contact, muttering in herself about the insanity of your question and of love as a phenomenon in itself.
"Fine, so it matters. Then what? Where are you getting at? If you don't start to make sense any time soon, I'll be leaving. I'm kind of busy today, you see."
Ignoring her sarcasm for the moment, you steadily go ahead, not wanting to admit you have no idea about where this conversation is leading you to either. Hopefully, to a better understanding, if not a step forward to being friends again. The step after that…you're too afraid to believe that this time, there might be one.
"Kara…if you love him, then…I really do hope you find him. And that he's fine. And if you bring him back here, I'll be happy for you. Both of you. And I…I won't be getting in your way."
The thought alone breaks you, but you won't play second fiddle to anyone. She either his or yours. Still, you can tell your support startles her. Well, guess what: it startled you too.
"Thanks Lee. It means a lot."
She gives you a sweet smile, chipping another flake of your heart in the process. Unable to stop yourself, you draw her into your embrace, trying to block out the voice that painfully reminds you that this might be the very last time you get to touch her. She might not come back. And if she does, it might be with him.
She lets go of you and, hesitantly, walks over to the hatch, unlocking and opening it. All words dry in your throat. Again, you haven't said the one thing that needed to be said.
Come back, Kara. With or without him, come back. Come back to me. Only, especially to me.
I love you.
And I won't take it back. Ever.
You gulp back the tears threatening to fall. This is not the time to cry. If this is the last time you get to see her, you don't want your vision to be obscured in any way. At the threshold, she turns.
"What if I don't?"
What?
"What?"
"Love him. What if I don't love him, Lee?"
Wait…no…this…was this…was she…what?
It's no use trying to hold back the tears now as you finally comprehend what she's giving you. Your throat constricts painfully. Last chance. The very last straw. Her last gesture. Grab it, you frakking idiot. Grab it, hold onto it, don't back out now!
But you're backing out already, the fear and insecurity of this new competition holding you down. She can claim now not to love him, but she's known for her quick changes of heart and her commitment issues.
Another commonality for the two of you to share.
"I don't know. You might feel different about him when you see him."
It's a miracle she hasn't left yet, since her patience is wearing awfully thin this moment. Resigned to the fate you have again established for both of you, originating from fear, rules, anger and more fear, she slumps her shoulders and shakes her head, looking weary and tired. Not a good way to start a rescue mission. And not the last image of her you want to keep repeating to yourself if worst comes to worst.
"You're not going to say it, are you Lee?"
Her voice is muffled, flat, monotonous. There's not a thing you can think of to say now that'll break the stifling atmosphere.
This is it. Well done, Lee Adama. You've really lost her now.
Only, it's not over yet. Your silence, your inactivity triggers her anger. And with it, Pandora's box finally snaps open.
"Damn it, Lee! You just don't get it, do you? I would never, ever have frakked either Baltar or Anders if I would have thought, for one moment only, that there could be anything between us more than friendship, or whatever the frak it is we have!"
Oh so now this is all your fault? What does she expect you to be, a frakking mind reader?
"Oh come on, don't give me that crap, Kara. I know I'm no saint and by Gods I know I'm partially at fault for the situation we're in, but don't you dare put all the blame on me!"
"I'm not! I know we're both responsible, but…"
She sighs in frustration, angrily wiping her tears away. You wish you could do that for her, but since you're the cause, you're probably not going to be the preferred cure. Instead, you urge her on to finish her sentence.
"But what, Kara?"
The change in her is visible, almost palpable as the fight drains away from her body, leaving her sad and vulnerable to your gaze. You have trouble hearing her words as her voice is no more than a whisper.
"I'm tired Lee. Tired of fighting you only to make up only to start the fight again. I'm angry at you for not letting go of your superior control, of not saying the words I need to hear. Then when you do, I get afraid. Scared to death that you mean it, scared that you don't. My mind's too frakked up by other things to react the way I should have and now I'm angry with myself…that's why I thought I was in love with Sam."
Your face must betray your growing confusion. With a much gentler voice, she continues her monologue.
"You see, Sam was easy. Easy to love, generous with loving me. No hidden agenda, no playing around. He never asked for my life story, was never concerned with my sordid past, never played a role in it. It was safe. He made no demands on my heart that I wasn't ready to comply to. I thought, up until a few minutes ago, that it would just have to be enough. Slow and easy and no hassle. I just…I don't think he's the one, not any more. Not when you…not when we…"
"Still have a shot?" you finish for her.
"Interesting choice of words, considering…but yeah. Question is, do we?"
Now there's an answer you don't need to think of.
"Yes. We do. We do, Kara. If you can. If you're willing. But it will require a lot."
"Like what?"
"Everything. Heart and soul Kara. I demand it all."
"Lee…I…"
You stretch out your hand to her, palm up, eyes wide open and honest.
"Don't be afraid Kara, I promise you I'll always give as much as I take. Heart and soul, Kara Thrace, mine for yours."
"What if we break them?"
"We won't."
"Promise?"
"Yeah. I promise."
She remains silent for a while and you give her the time she needs to digest what has just happened…the first steps towards establishing a relationship. Her words come out a little louder, a little more confident when she asks her final question.
"Will you say it, Lee?"
A smile breaks through on your face. You kind of saw that one coming. So sure, you'll say it. You want to, need to say it. It bubbles up from your heart to your throat, uncontrollable. And you wouldn't want to control it anyway. Not anymore. Not ever again.
"I love you, Kara Thrace."
Her answering smile lights up her face and to hear her say it out loud makes your heart do an FTL jump in your chest.
"I love you, Lee Adama."
Time is suspended, the preparations for the rescue mission only an afterthought. As in slow motion, she lets go of the hatch, steps back into the room and starts taking slow, measured paces towards you. Fear and hope are mixed in her eyes, the first giving way to the last with every step once she figures out that, for once, you're not crawling back.
Your grin gets wider and wider, stretching the edges of your mouth almost painfully, but you can't help yourself. Finally, you've clawed your way out of your self-dug grave and now that you're out of it, the sun that hits you right in the face is both blinding in intensity and scalding hot.
But hey, wasn't Apollo meant to be God of the sun?
One moment later, she's in your arms.
"Captain Thrace, report to the flight deck. ASAP. Captain Thrace to the flight deck."
Dee's voice has never been so unwelcome, but since it's also quite right, you reluctantly let go of your sweet Kara.
Hand in hand and not caring who sees it, you accompany her to her raptor, where Helo is already waiting for her. She nods to him and to the chief, salutes your father and then you. A grin breaks on her face as you automatically return the salute and before your arm is all the way down, she pulls you in and kisses you hard a fast on your lips.
You're not ashamed to admit you don't even register the reactions around you; for once the decorum coming with your officer's status is utterly meaningless.
The raptors leave, accompanied by the well wishes and prayers of the people left on board. You go back to your own ship, but you're back on Galactica days later, when word comes out they're on their way home.
At the flight deck, you find the usual organized chaos and in the centre of it, the Admiral and Laura Roslin, ready to welcome the survivors of Caprica.
You recognize Kara's raptor solely from the precise way she lands it (no matter it's not a viper; Kara can fly and land anything with wings) and your heart thumps with barely suppressed anticipation when the hatch opens.
A moment later, without looking back once to the people she just saved (including a mutinous looking man you assume is Anders) and with total disregard to military courtesy demanding she should at least greet your dad first, she's in your arms. You gladly and greedily follow her example and kiss her with every single ounce of conviction inside you.
Kara's back. She's yours. And you're not about to miss your mark again.
Never again.
THE END.