A/N: The timeline has been played with a little. It has been a few days to a few weeks since the trial and Lee is still CAG and flying. Inspired by the amazing "The Sound of One Hand Clapping" by jedionpaper. read it. This is my first BSG fic, reviews would be lovely
A ghost walks the corridors of Galactica
A ghost walks the corridors of Galactica. It haunts all those it passes, and where it once filled everyone with hope, it now fills them with sadness to see something so bright and radiant, now cold and dark. Dead yet still walking, the piece that finally fit in it was lost and since then the broken remains struggle to survive.
There have been brief sparks of life and vitality, but few and far between. The impassioned speech at the trial, when he rode his chariot into battle handing out righteous vengeance upon the enemy, once in defense of the survivors of the colonies, now in grief and rage at it's own personal loss. But those sparks are fading much like the last dying throws of a star about to go supernova, die.
No one, including the father of the ghost could have ever imagined that a god that walked amongst mortals could be so fragile, brittle. Before the loss of its soul, the sun that the ghost was, shined brighter than ever, finally happy with itself, and it's match. But the clouds, and fear, took her away, and the sun was dimmed.
The people try to help him move on, but the ghost is unreachable, civility is all it can muster. When it reaches the bunkroom, the place where it had so much happiness, peace, and love, those still alive leave, retreat, knowing that they can not stay and watch as that once beautiful place becomes a tomb of grief and sadness, until exhaustion stops the ghost's wails of sorrow as it clutches her picture. Then, and only then, do the living return to sleep amongst him.
Zeus, the father, tries. He throws work and diversions into the nosedive that the ghost is in. But he knows that he is loosing his son, his first born and last living who is falling fast. Zeus' grief grows everyday as he sees his line ending. The gods must have cursed him, his name, his family. But for what offense? Strength? Ego? Selflessness? Zeus will break, after the mission is over, for leading his people to a home will be all that is left for him after the ghost, his son, finally burns out like an exploding star. He looks back at his family and all their losses. The son who wanted to be his father and brother, but did not have the skill. The daughter not of his blood, who was everything he wanted his sons to be. She who tragically loved and lost his youngest, to find true peace, love and happiness in the older brother. His first born, so full of anger and shame, regret and insecurity, who found the same things in her, his equal in all things, the one who loved his brother first and healed him as much as he healed her. The father's shame and regret dwarf the son's in that moment.
The end of the ghost nears. Everyone feels it. Can see it written on his ashen face, and when he rubs his hand lovingly, reverently over his chest pocket, the one over his heart, where he keeps the picture of her. Can hear it in the voice that sounded like broken glass when it once ran all others away in its heartbroken tone, which is now silent. They see the resolve overcome the ghost as the gods seemingly answer his fervent prayers for his suffering to end. He, the ghost that was once a god, shackled to the one lost to him, mounts his chariot to ride to his ending.
But the god's gift is not the awaiting death that he expected. No, the gods have been moved by his suffering and have gifted the ghost who was a god the gift of his soul back. The piece that was missing, making him bleed a slow death. He begins to believe with a single word, "Kara?"
And the ghost and his equal, together again, smite the enemy with vengeance. The pieces in him that were broken begin to mend. But he does not fully believe that the gods have gifted him this gift until he is flying across the deck, feet never touching until he collides with her. Engulfing her in a crushing hug that she returns with just as much force and love. He clasps her face, and uncaring of the people around, for they have disappeared from their world, professes his undying love and they kiss with all the promises of the future, and it is perfection.
All around them the people who watched the ghost as it haunted the halls of their home, become alive again. Their eyes narrow in joy as the once dying light from the sun grows in intensity and vitality. Zeus, the father, watches as his children, one dead for months, the other dying a slow death in front of his eyes, are returned to him. He offers silent prayers of thanks to the gods who, at least for now, have lifted the curse upon his family. His questions can come later.
And all who are present rejoice in their own way, as they witness the pieces of the ghost put back together, the missing piece that granted him happiness, joy, peace, and love, all returned to him. And like the Phoenix, Apollo, the Sun God, Lee, is reborn amongst them along side Starbuck, Kara, the miracle that is his equal, his other half, his soul.
And the Galactica is alive again. Its ghost has finally found peace.