A/N1: An impromptu encounter with the Hybrid might bring Lee Adama to reassess his recent loss. Set immediately prior to the events in 'A Disquiet Follows My Soul'. Featuring a Leoben model.
Disclaimer: None of the characters and/or plot-points, inherent to the show, belong to me.
Inviere*
He had to squint in the eerie glow the basestar 'conference lounge', or whatever they called the place, was engulfed in. The pulsing light across the perimeter, in perfect synchrony with the leaden pounding in his insomnia-abused mind, made him summon every effort to concentrate on not being lulled to sleep. Sleep was overrated, anyway. Sleep was when he made it back to the officers' quarters in time to stop her finger on the trigger. Sleep was when he kissed her, or talked her, or frakked her out of what she had in mind that cursed night, in arbitrary succession. Sleep was when she smiled sweetly, pulled her sidearm and shot him right in the heart times and times over. Sleep was when he dreaded waking up.
At least busying himself compulsively with any pending issue that came the Quorum's way kept him awake and blissfully in control, and kept the swarming, stinging 'whys' at bay. That was one of the reasons he agreed to that wee hour off-records meeting on board the basestar, still tagging along their gods-forsaken caravan, over a prospect of endowing the fleet with Cylon-brand FTL technology. The other reason was, of course, the obvious allure of such offer. Gods knew, the fleet needed those enhanced drives, if only to put as much light yahrens in between themselves and that hideous graveyard of their hopes, as was humanly (or cylonly, for that matter) possible.
He still wouldn't bet he trusted the 'rebel' Cylons as far as he could throw them, but they appointed Chief Tyrol to approach him with the recon suggestion. Chief Tyrol used to be one of their human own, he placated himself, and wouldn't partake in the plot of taking the Admiral's son and a fairly prominent Quorum member hostage for whatever reason the digital imagination of his people could conjure. Not that he wasn't beyond caring over his own safety by then. But above all, Chief Tyrol, Cylon or not, was no stranger to dealing with woeful 'whys', haunting them both. So off to the basestar Lee went, uninhibited…
***
He tried his best not to steal glances at the Hybrid, as he was escorted back to his shuttle by a Leoben model. The senile, ever mumbling creature in the gooey tub equally appalled and sickened him. Just as they made it halfway across the chamber, the thing became agitated, its babbling louder and urgent, making Leoben pause and consider the Hybrid with intent attention. Lee had but to stop and listen too, not quite bothering to conceal annoyance.
- A child of thunder shall battle the wonder of darkness. In faith of a brother ascension. A god in a man to seek passage. Through gateway an exit. Resurget resurgetur. Resurgetur…
He shifted self-consciously, as Leoben's stare refocused on him, wondering if it would be diplomatically appropriate to wipe the exasperatingly enigmatic half-grin off the Cylon's face with a well-placed hook:
- What is it? Can we proceed now? I was hoping to make it back to Colonial One before the morning Quorum session.
- She was talking about you.
He nearly jumped at that, backing instinctively off from the tub.
- What?!?!?????
- 'A child of thunder' – Leoben radiated a serene resolve, of the kind, employed usually in talking to kids under the age of five. – Zeus is, among other things, the god of thunder, according to your Scriptures. Apollo is one of Zeus's sons, so…
- You are out of you mind, aren't you? Just like this… chatterbox… - contempt proved an amazingly inefficient tool to keep the chill creeping up his spine in check.
Why would the notorious Hybrid, whose allegedly clairvoyant ramblings nearly cost him his father over the loss of Laura Roslin and all but brought two civilizations to a close-range stand-off, even bother to allude to his very unassuming self? He had never been tangled in the matters of destiny and faith, or otherworldly insights. That had been the President's and, lately, Kara's toil. Ever since the Tomb of Athena on Kobol he had done a fairly decent job rationalizing whatever 'miraculous' experiences, they'd been subjected to, in terms of history and advanced technology, and dumb luck, rather than 'Higher Powers' at work.
With their long and painfully sought promised land in radioactive ruins, prophecy was not the finest rhetoric strategy anymore, as far as he was concerned. To think, that a semi-coherent half-breed machine would even hypothetically opt to wrap him up into the sticky web of delusional riddles that brought them all to the desolate tomb of Earth, visiting demolishing despair upon Dee, made him cringe with disgust.
The Hybrid's jumbled chant subsided somewhat, not much but a recurrent chorus of 'resurgetur' discernible.
- What is she saying, anyway? – his voice sounded almost alien, alert apprehension overriding natural curiosity.
Leoben went distant for a moment, as if filing through data storage. Maybe the Cylon was doing just that, he mused, whichever way their superior digital memory worked.
- Resurget resurgetur - 'the one, who shall rise, will be risen'. Something along these lines.
He furrowed. It was not making sense. Not that he was even remotely eager to assign any credibility to these mantras, but still, the Apollo-Zeus metaphor was pretty transparent, wasn't it? Will be risen? Of the plausible suspects, Starbuck's return from the 'other side' was something he wasn't inclined to even begin to ponder, yet so much transpired ever since to have effectively dwarfed the matter in comparison.
Leoben was boring him again with a gaze, kindled by something bordering on awe, concern and expectation:
- There's something else, you might want to know. 'The one, who shall rise' is 'Anastasia' in ancient Kobolian.
The edges of his vision went dark, fists clenched involuntarily, exposing the erratic constrains of his heart. He found himself instantly torn between the desperate urge to slam Leoben into the wall for daring to bring her name up, and the one to strangle an unsuspecting Hybrid for choosing to perform such a ruthless prank on him. There was no way Dee was a Final Fifth, so much could be deduced from Tigh's unveiled memory. Otherwise, he was decidedly done embracing any more 'divine magic', ever since the prodigious hope of happiness was snatched away from him as abruptly as it was issued over the ruined world they failed to call home. He could feel the heat of furious tears about to surface and squeezed his eyes shut, dismissing a ghost of a chance for cruel nonsense to transcribe into wish, willing composure in place with all his Adama obstinacy.
- I'll inform the Admiral and the Quorum of your offer to upgrade our FTL. Your people will be notified in due course of their decision.
His steps clanked a hollow echo in the empty hallways, a Leoben replaced with a Centurion to guide him to the landing deck, leaving the humanoid Cylon to regard his retreating form with a disturbingly pensive smile.
***
On board the shuttle back to Colonial One, nodding amiably to his fellow delegates in the meeting room, through the mandatory morning briefing with Zarek, he gave concentrating on the arguments to enforce the Cylon proposition with to the Quorum and, more likely than not, to his father, his best shot, only to get distracted by the disquietingly aching hum, woven into the sharp drum of his heartbeat, spelling the dull throb of ever escalating migraine – the one who shall rise, Anastasia.
A/N2: The show final confirmed certain PTB were apparently in action in the BSG 'verse, deriving the plausibility of Lee Adama to have been sent on a spiritual journey (alongside social and emotional) through the span of season 4. Hence, the Hybrid's gibberish might somehow be brought to fruition.
*Inviere = 'resurrection' in old Geminese (BSG: Razor).