Note: This is a response to a prompt (Kara/Lee, Same Old Lang Syne by Dan Fogelberg) at the livejournal community bsg_epics. It is inspired by the song and the title is a reference to part of the song.
No Toast to Now
At the end of the briefing for the decommissioning ceremony, Lee kept his facial expression neutral and made his way out of the ready room, successfully avoiding conversation. He could have questioned one of the pilots about Kara's being replaced, but Lee needed to get out of the room, away from the CAG who made his pilots bark, and probably sit and stay, too, as if they were robotic dogs. Lee wasn't in the mood to hear any more platitudes about the honor that flying his father's outdated Viper was or for being told how admired his father was. Once in the corridor, he stopped the first green-looking petty officer he saw, hoping not to be recognized.
"Where can I find Lieutenant Thrace?" Lee asked.
"Starbuck? She's in the brig, sir," the young man answered after quickly stiffening to attention.
Lee detected a glimmer of amusement in the man's eyes, despite the straight spine and the 'sir.' He opened his mouth but closed it again without asking the question on the tip of his tongue. It was Kara; this should almost be expected. Lee dismissed the man with a nod.
Okay, then, first stop, visiting officers' quarters, Lee thought. Second stop, the brig. In his temporary quarters, Lee found that his duffel had been stowed and freshly pressed dress grays were waiting for him. He began to strip out of his flight suit. After another look at the dress grays he groaned. The public relations photo op was next on the schedule for this dog-and-pony show. Wearing the formal uniform to visit Kara in the brig would be asking for trouble, though. Lee decided to wait to change until after seeing Kara.
Lee reentered the corridor with his flight suit half off. He was glad for its protection. Dress grays would have marked him for attention from passing crew members. Get in. Do the job. Get out. Lee repeated his mantra for this assignment. He'd do the job and then go back to his life. No more involvement than necessary. Except for Kara, of course. Kara was a complication, but maybe complication wasn't always a bad thing.
Entering the brig, Lee saluted the duty officer. He looked at Kara in the cell doing pushups and the corner of his mouth pulled up. It was good to see her. Two years was a long time. He regretted that they wouldn't be able to go somewhere and toast their memories with the bottle he had brought aboard. Adjusting to the situation on the ground was something he had been trained for, though.
On opposite sides of the cell bars, Lee and Kara traded banter like the space jocks they were. Then Kara asked, "How long's it been?" and, as if a flip had been switched, Lee was not amused anymore. Two years was not long enough for him to have forgotten. No amount of time would ever be long enough for him to be ready to forgive. The bitterness Lee had pushed aside after the pilots' briefing came rushing back and the conversation turned sour. Lee discovered that Kara had joined the legion of Bill Adama followers. That created more of a barrier between the two of them than the cell bars did.
Kara implied that Lee was not being fair to his father. Lee, on the other hand, felt his no-involvement plan was the way he had to go. "Zak was my brother," he argued. Kara took it the wrong way and Lee had to appreciate the cell bars that kept them separated. Lee walked out of the brig. Back in the corridor he wondered at the difference two years had brought. Were Kara and I only connected because of Zak? Did Zak's death sever the ties between us? Kara was even more of a complication than he had expected.
Back in his assigned quarters, Lee hesitated for a moment between the dress uniform and the duffel containing the bottle he'd hoped to share with Kara. He decided to save the bottle so he could wash the bad taste of this assignment out of his mouth after he had left the Galactica and all its people behind him. Lee knew he and his father could rely on military protocol to get through their upcoming meeting. Lee couldn't remember when that had become their standard for interacting, but it was second nature for him by now. He checked in the mirror one last time, making sure his uniform was flawless, and tried to squash the feeling that he was a kid again and his mom had just told him his father was waiting in the study. Only a few more hours, Lee, he thought. Then you can fly back home.