A/N: A rather dark and unoptimistic alternate take on the ending of 'Rapture' episode, season 3. Set right after everybody disembarks on Galactica upon making it off the Algae Planet.
Alludes to the cut scene from the episode, featuring Lee Adama's and Sam Ander's discussion on 'leaving no man behind', as Starbuck's rescue was ordered.
Sam Anders POV, mostly. Implied character death, so be warned.
Disclaimer: None of the characters, plot points, inherent to the show, belong to me.
Soldier's Code
- Where's Dee? – A notably ticked off Major Adama was tapping quite tersely onto Kara's shoulder, still enclosed firmly within Sam's hug.
From the way she tensed in his arms Anders knew that was not headed anywhere nice. Gods, he was so damn happy she was alive and back it was all too easy to overlook Lee's wife had actually been sent on the rescue mission.
The younger Adama's stare was steady and cold, prodding for a reasonable explanation. Kara took in a shuddering breath and began to tear up, driving Sam unsettlingly convinced Apollo was, most likely, not going to get one.
- She managed to gear the Raptor back up. All of a sudden there were toasters, all over us. We couldn't take off. She grabbed both our guns and jumped off board to buy some time. The next thing I see – she yelps and goes down.
- So you just left? – Anders could bet the glazed surface of Lee's eyes was cracked in a heartbeat, like ice, prickly shards glistening in the artificial light, as she went on.
- I was barely coherent to fly the frakking thing! There was nothing else I could do! Lee…
Sam coiled inwardly, rotating his way slowly in between the younger Adama and his wife, getting ready for the violent onslaught, certain to burst out right away. Sure as Hades, Major would be inclined to estimate what happened to Dee their joint fault. Not quite unjustifiably so, too. However, granted the premise, leading to that Gods damned order of rescue on Lee's part, Sam would rather Apollo took it out on him, than on Kara. What Anders couldn't anticipate in the very least was Major Adama going stiff for a briefest of whiles, features sharp and angular, then nodding silently, in sync with some inner considerations, turning on his heel and marching away, oblivious of Kara's pleading and Sam's own admonishing stares.
- Where do you think you're going? – Admiral Adama materialized from the crowd, blocking Lee's way to the nearest Raptor, freezing his son to a halt with an imposing stare.
- Permission to request a craft and flight clearance, sir. Dee's down there, Admiral, possibly wounded. Possibly still under enemy fire. – Apollo's report spattered textbook clipped and crisp, if surprisingly detached, charged with carefully controlled urgency.
- The star went nova, son. The algae planet is baked by now. There's nowhere to go back to. I'm so sorry, kiddo.
Major Adama appeared distant and fairly unresponsive for quite some time in his father's fierce embrace. The grime and sweat covered face was pale and alarmingly serene, as he finally motioned to pull away.
- I wanted a divorce, anyway.
Hollow, tranquil words earned a subdued Major the most profoundly disproving of the Admiral's trademark frowns. More disquieting still was Apollo's lack of acknowledgement or defensive resignation in response. It was unlike his son to let an opportunity of matching the Old Man glare for glare slide. Lee just stepped around his father's rigid form and headed out of the hangar deck, without as much as another sound, gaze focused straight ahead, a tad too vacant to appear composed. As much as it pained Bill to let his son go at a moment like that, he was aware the kid might be needing some time on his own. Gods knew, he would be.
Sam wasn't sure what possessed him to follow Apollo outside the hangar deck. He didn't even like Major Adama to begin with. Had every reason to despise the guy, in fact, spectacularly efficient job of getting them all out of that smoldering algae Hades notwithstanding. It was just something about the calm deliberation in Lee's stride, which wasn't supposed to be there, given the circumstances, brought up an acute pang within Anders's gut. Something that made him instantly think of Duck, back on the NCP Graduation day. Leaving Kara in the medics' care, thus, he all but jogged in the general direction of Major's retreating form, past the swarming activity of the hangar deck, past Colonel Tigh's suspicious furrow.
Lee was already inside the airlock, set on the task of inserting the key with intense precision, brows creased at the piece of offending hardware in frustration, as it repeatedly failed to fit into the launch panel. Sam skidded to a stop, unsure for a second if he might, in fact, cause more damage by approaching. There wasn't much room for trepidation, however, before the young Adama figured his way around venting himself into frakking space, Anders reckoned, stepping over the hatch threshold and moving closer, careful not to startle the clearly upset, if equally focused, man out of what was left of his wits. If anything, Sam was not looking forward to face his own consciousness again, had Lee succeeded in what it looked like he was up to.
- Hey, Major. Gotta hurry up somewhere?
- I have to go back. She's all alone there, Sam. We leave no man behind, you see.
Through unfathomable Hades of guerrilla resistance on both Capricas Sam Anders had hardly encountered anything more terrifying than what he saw in Apollo's eyes that moment– the agitated glimmer, devoid of sanity.
- It'll take you ages to get there like that. – It occurred to Sam he'd better say anything, no matter how wayward, to keep Lee distracted. - C'mon, Major. Admiral Adama will send Kara out on SAR, once she's apt to fly again. You'll brief her on mission specifics. Rumor has it you're good at that. It'll be alright.
Surreal as it was, Sam's ad-hoc goading seemed to be working to slowly usher the distraught and visibly disoriented Major Adama back to the airlock hatch, on the opposite end of the one opening into outer space. Earlier in the day the last thing Anders could've imagined would be achingly empathizing with the man now appearing to be walking underwater beside him. And drowning deeper. Fast. No one deserved to lose it like that. In every sense possible.
Lee's stride was persistently getting less and less stable, as they were moving forward, so much so Anders had to practically drag his companion into the airlock antechamber by the end of their short journey. Either Colonel Tigh was clairvoyant or had a good grasp on the memory of Duck's face too, back in the day, but both the XO and the elder Adama were already there, regarding the gruesome sight in morbid silence. The Admiral's face was hard to read, so thick were the shadows, clouding his weathered countenance. Anders's grip on Lee's shoulder was instantly replaced by a firmer one, that of the anxious father, much to his relief. Major Adama, however, had yet to indicate any recognition of the newcomers, jerking abruptly to lean closer to Sam with what for all the world appeared a conspiratorial grin and a condescending pat on the arm.
- We can't send any frakking SAR to fetch her, Sammy. Don't you get it? I killed her.
The soft whimper was barely audible, as Apollo's limp frame sank to the floor, to be caught promptly by three sets of strong hands at a time.
- It's shock. Won't remember a thing once he wakes up. – Tigh's uncharacteristically hesitant voice rasped in something akin to wishful thinking, the single eye fixed pointedly on Bill, clutching his son fervently, all the while roaming for pulse.
- Dee's gone. He'll remember that much.
What Admiral Adama chose to leave unspoken was the heart-wrenching doubt his son was to go along with the reality he was about to wake up to. Sam Anders deemed it wiser to keep to himself the stirring apprehension Major Adama might very well be unwilling to consider waking up at all, any more.