Happy Endings (Or Where You Stop Telling the Story Makes All the Difference)
He held her for the first time during their long march to nowhere.
They should've known better. They should have known that the wound was much worse than it looked; much worse than Helo had let on. If there was one thing about Karl that anyone could have found fault with, it was that the man could be so frakking stupid.
As Lee dug into the earth, first with the crudest improvised spade possible, then with his hands, he couldn't help but hate the dead man. He hated him for not saying a word about the pain until he had fallen over. Hated him for wanting to save the medication for people who "really needed it". Hated him for leaving a grieving wife behind, who choked back tears as she watched her husband's body being pulled unceremoniously into the shallow pit.
The child, Hera, was somewhere up ahead, sleeping in Ellen's arms. Last time he saw her, she'd looked confused and scared, not understanding why her mother was crying, not understanding why Daddy wasn't moving. Lee knew exactly what she meant.
People refused to look in Sharon's direction as she had wailed, loud and unashamed, stripped bare by sorrow alone. Perhaps it was because they still saw her like she was an enemy. More likely, Lee thought through gritted teeth, it was because her raw emotions embarrassed them, made them aware that it could just as easily be themselves crying over the body of a loved one.
He alone had stopped for the Agathons. Stopped to dig a grave because Karl deserved better than to have his body left to the mercies of the wild. He never even got to bury the last person he lost, or hell, even find out exactly what had happened to her. If he could sit down and cry with Sharon, he would've, but he couldn't. He had a grave to dig.
Slowly, the dirt closed over Karl's wan face.
Shallow though it was, nobody ever told Lee how much strength it took to dig a grave; how much it took out of a person.
When there was nothing but a mound of dirt over the body, Lee stared at his hands, at the dirt that caked over his skin that was cut and bleeding in places. He could feel the dirt packed into his fingernails. Behind, Sharon let another sob escape.
He turned to look at her then, and wondered as he did so, how they had ever mistaken her for a machine. Nothing but a human could become so broken by grief, he thought as he summoned from within all that he had left and knelt down. With aching arms, he gathered her closer to him. Only humans were so breakable, and pathetically fragile. What he would give to shut off the ache in his heart with a simple command, the pain that threatened to bring him to his knees. Sharon shook, like a leaf in the wind, clinging on to him instinctively with her bony fingers.
"Shh." He said, stroking her hair and her back. "It'll be ok. You'll be fine."
It only seemed to make her cry harder.
Life was hard in the settlement.
Living in the mud and the squalor, trying to stay dry and un-diseased, hunting and gathering every day to stave off the winter that seemed determined to encroach on them…
Lee wondered at times, if the confections of glass and metal he remembered from Caprica city…if those shops and restaurants so full of hot food and good things…he wondered if he'd dreamed all of it.
Then, sometimes, she'd smile one of her rare smiles at him (and him alone) when he brought fire wood, or a portion of his prey, to her patch of Earth. And he would remember what it was like to live like a person, not like an animal fighting for survival.
The second time they touched, she had touched him. A hesitant brush of her hand against his cheek, ever so lightly grazing against his skin. He leaned into it, letting his eyes fall shut.
She had snatched her hand away like she had held it to an open flame, and he could see the guilt collecting behind her dark eyes. He wanted to tell her that there was no sin in it, no sin in the want that grew inside of him and (he was sure) within her. There was no one left to betray, no one left to hurt.
But it wasn't the last time they touched.
Life was hard in the settlement, but it wasn't bad.
It was a full moon when he found her alone, sitting by the rushing river outside of their almost-borders.
Under the wan light, he traced her features with his eyes and when he could no longer take simply looking, he slowly and uncertainly ran his fingertips over her face. She breathed in deep and moved closer.
Slowly and sweetly, he kissed her at last.
Later, as he slept, he dreamed strange dreams of sunshine and sweet smelling herbs that all smelled like Sharon. He would have happily remained in those lands, but as morning approached, he found himself inexorably drawn towards a darkening mist, and a familiar shape taking form.
"So you're frakking a toaster," she said.
She still donned the black party dress he'd seen her in last.
"I never knew you could be so crude," he replied warily, rubbing his eyes. Beside him, Sharon stirred but didn't wake, and he began to doubt that it was a dream at all.
"You're supposed to be married to me." She sounded reproachful. "How could you?"
"We haven't been married in a long time Dee." He stood up and walked closer. "And besides…you put a bullet in your brainpan, baby. Don't you remember?"
Up close, he could see that the blood oozing down the side of her face, dripping onto the ground below.
"Yea. I suppose I did." She nodded, looking almost surprised.
"I'm sorry," he said, unsure of what else to tell her, unsure what dead women wanted to hear.
"'s alright." She said. "I just came to warn you."
"Warn me?" he frowned. "About what?"
She said nothing.
Lee's eyes snapped open. Beside him, Sharon slowly pushed herself up, and kissed him softly against his cheek.
In the settlement, the air was buzzing. And in the middle of what passed for the town's square, a relict of a different age sat; a raptor, like a tumour upon the planet's surface.
Slowly, he left Sharon's side and walked over.
"Dad," he acknowledged, noting the fact that his father hadn't seemed to age a single day since they last saw each other.
"Lee," the older man responded in kind, his eyes following the movements of Sharon. "Where's Karl?"
"He died." Lee said, wishing he didn't sound so defensive, and that he didn't feel like a kid about to be remanded by his father. "So did Kara. At least I think she did. I'm still not clear on those details."
"I see." Bill Adama did not sound like he disapproved.
"So you've come to visit," Lee said at last, thinking it odd that he should discuss his love life with his father, here at the end of civilization, or the beginning of it. The situation really depended on which angle one was looking from, he reflected.
His father didn't answer for a long time, choosing instead to gaze at the people milling around.
Lee sighed, even before Bill spoke again. He gazed over at Sharon, at Hera, at his life. Mouth pressing into a thin line, he had an inkling at least, of something on the horizon.
"I have…news."
Dead women told no lies.