Disclaimer: Battlestar Galactica and the characters do not belong to me. I'm just playing with them.

Author's Note: Sorry about the long wait for this Interlude. RL has been busy, busy, busy, and I haven't had the chance to sit down and write. Thank you heaps to everyone who has reviewed, I appreciate your feedback so much :)

Enjoy!

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Interlude: Black and White Disorientation

Part One – Spiritus Mundi

Turning and turning in the widening gyre

The falcon cannot hear the falconer;

Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;

Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,

The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere

The ceremony of innocence is drowned;

The best lack all conviction, while the worst

Are full of passionate intensity.

Surely some revelation is at hand;

Surely the Second Coming is at hand.

The Second Coming! Hardly are those words out

When a vast image out of Spiritus Mundi

Troubles my sight: a waste of desert sand;

A shape with lion body and the head of a man,

A gaze blank and pitiless as the sun,

Is moving its slow thighs, while all about it

Reel shadows of the indignant desert birds.

The darkness drops again but now I know

That twenty centuries of stony sleep

Were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle,

And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,

Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?

William Butler Yeats, 1919

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"You shut your godsdamned mouth, motherfrakker." Starbuck hissed out, knife to the grinning bastard's throat, her hand shaking and knuckles white around the hilt.

"Or you'll what? Cut on me? Torture me some? You've already done that, sweetheart. Old hat, now." He tried to twist around to look into Starbuck's eyes and she gripped his arm harder, fingers digging into his bicep, knife pressing warningly harder against the tender flesh of his throat.

"Well then, should be easy for me to slip back into the habit. A well-trodden path. Had me a lotta practice." She was shaking and furious despite her attempts at flippancy, and the blade bit into his throat and pierced the skin, a thin line of red appearing.

"Just a pity we don't have an airlock for after I'm done."

"Poor frightened little Kara Thrace. Thinks she's a bird. Thinks she's free and safe, but I've seen. I've seen."

"Shut up." Starbuck growled the words through her clenched jaw, fury pumping through her.

"Kara." Lee's voice warning her not to do anything silly; trying to be calming and defuse the situation and just coming out tense and tight.

"Shut up, Lee." She growled instantly and instinctively at him, and then her eyes widened with shock, moving to meet his worried blue ones over Leoben's shoulder. Lee? What in the hell was he doing here?

That slight distraction was all it took.

Leon grabbed Starbuck's arm where it crossed around his shoulder from behind and held the knife to his throat, his fingers crushing her wrist and simultaneously yanking it away from his throat.

Starbuck felt the small bones in her wrist crunching as Leon constricted his hand around them, mashing them into one another and she yelped, pain blanking her mind for a moment.

Leon's other arm ripped free of Starbuck's grasp on it and ploughed back elbow-first into her stomach, whooshing the wind out of her. She staggered back, knife falling from numbed fingers, wrist hurting like a bitch and momentarily dazed.

Before Starbuck could collect herself, before Lee could cross the dry ground to grab Leon, the Two snagged the tumbling knife out of midair and whirled Starbuck around.

She flailed out as she gasped for breath that wouldn't come, the brief panic of breathlessness making her struggles ineffective. And then Leon held her tight and the cold blade touched her throat, just piercing the skin.

Starbuck froze.

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Earlier

Lee was doing some stupid frakking thing to do with the dissident movement today. Giving some rousing speech about getting together to prepare and present an organised argument to the Council. Well, to be fair, he was only going to be busy for a few hours, but still. It got under Starbuck's skin, itched at her. Especially considering today she had planned to make a godsdamned effort. She'd got the day off, and made a picnic. She, Kara Thrace, had actually prepared a picnic for her and Lee. All romantic and intimate, and aimed to show him just how much she really cared about him, under all the complications and shit that plagued their relationship. Starbuck felt like Lee needed the reassurance at the moment, and she needed to remind herself how important he was to her.

And then him and his stupid frakking cause had ruined all her plans. It wasn't like the damned meeting couldn't wait until the next day, but he had said that he'd arranged it for today, and it would take too much effort to rearrange it with everyone. He had seemed genuinely disappointed, though. But it didn't let him off the hook with Starbuck – she was still pissed.

She had even made little sandwiches, for frak's sake – little stacks with three slices of bread and the fanciest fillings she could get her hands on.

So they'd had an argument – of course – and she had stormed off – also of course. She sort of regretted that now. Okay, so they wouldn't have been able to have a whole day out, but they still could have had the afternoon together. And to be honest, the sandwiches would have kept until then. They weren't doing anyone any good where they were now. Tossed angrily out the window during the course of the argument, one sticking to a tree trunk for a second before flopping forlornly to the ground.

Starbuck snorted with the rueful amusement hindsight granted her, and kept walking, slow and steady.

Landfall itself lay far behind her now, and she was nearing the outskirts of the farms that sprawled raggedly out from it. The sky was a brilliant clear blue, and the land was a sea of bone-dry grasses, the occasional low clump of bushes like gnarled islands. Starbuck could tell summer was waning from the feel of the air; usually purely scorching, there was now the barest hint of freshness to the soft breeze. Still hot enough to cook an egg on a rock though.

Starbuck shifted the rifle that was slung over her shoulder, her eyes scanning the plains that stretched out before her. A group of hunters she had met in Landfall had said they'd seen a herd of zebra near the settlement, and Starbuck was hoping she might be able to pick off a foal. Easier to take down than an adult, and small enough for her to skin and butcher on the spot, and lug back to Landfall in pieces.

That was the plan, anyway.

But regardless of whether her hunt was successful or not, it was good to be out here. Cleansing. Alone under the sun, Starbuck felt lighter, more peaceful, and the last vestiges of her anger melted away. Her mind wandered aimlessly as her feet carried her in the direction the hunters had pointed out.

Since Romo Lampkin's disaster of a dinner party, Starbuck had been thinking about her and Lee again. Trying to work things out in her head. She hadn't gotten very far though. It was all too damn confusing.

What she did know was that it was during the dinner party that Starbuck had suddenly felt sorry for Lee. Empathy had kicked in, and she had felt so godsdamned sorry for him. In retrospect, it had been a shocking kind of moment. For so long Starbuck had only felt sorry for herself. Wallowing in self-pity for months – ever since the fresh excitement of making landfall on this new Earth had faded. She was attracted to Lee, loved him, but that evening had been the first time she had truly connected to him in such a long time. Just…feeling empathy. Such a simple little feeling, but so frakking important.

A baobab tree lay at her 2 o'clock, the only shade-giver for miles. Immense and squat, with a strange, solid dignity about it, the tree drew her eye. Starbuck wondered how old it was, how long it had been growing. From a tiny seed to a living mountain on the plain. There was something comforting about it. Somehow it made her mind whirl from Lee to Sam.

Starbuck had gone over and over her strange conversation with Head-Sam, but the words – so clear, so simple then, seemed different outside of the moment, without his hands ghostly on her, his breath warm on her neck. Less substantial. Fuzzier. It was one thing to say something to your husband when he was touching you, talking to you – but quite another to feel those things when he was, once more, lying still and white in a coma.

She squinted around her, part of her mind taking in her surrounds, evaluating the environment, alert for danger, and the rest of her mind drifted. The sun soaked into her skin, making her thoughts drowsy and disjointed.

Sam had been simple. Straightforward. No guilt there, no painful, complicated history. Just a really good guy, and a healthy mutual attraction. It could have been so easy and happy, if it wasn't for her feelings for Lee.

Whereas Lee… Starbuck's feelings for Lee were complex and tangled. All bound up still in the old guilt from the evening they had first met so long ago now, and then entwined with her guilt about Zack's death.

A chill ran through her despite the blazing noonday sun.

Sometimes, when things were very bad, Starbuck had wondered if subconsciously her desire for Lee had led her to…

But that was just self-flagellation, like Romo Lampkin had said. Starbuck knew it wasn't true, and yet she couldn't separate her feelings for Lee from all that…all that shit.

Lee was irresistible attraction and perfection, all tied up in guilt and wrong. Starbuck had wanted him from the moment she had first seen him – a zing of chemistry they had both recognised and been unable to resist. But she should have resisted. She should never have kissed him, that evening when Zack was sleeping right godsdamned there. And everything she had felt for Lee since then had been coloured by that one frakking mistake.

Starbuck couldn't shake off the guilt, even when she knew she should.

And when her confusing feelings toward Lee were mixed up with her own many other godsdamned issues…well, it just made one big issues soup.

She began up a gentle slope, the long grass swishing over her pants, boots crushing the brittle strands of grass slick beneath her feet.

Sam had kept her safe from her attraction toward Lee, for a while, at least, given her freedom from that confusing desire. It hadn't lasted. Lee had crept back in to her heart no matter how hard she tried to block him out. The funny thing – hah – was that Starbuck truly loved Sam; it was just a pity she only realised how much she really cared for him after he'd been essentially killed. Lost something only to realise how much she needed it. Didn't appreciate it when she had it.

Starbuck sniffed wetly, rubbed at her nose with her knuckles.

She didn't want to do the same thing with Lee. Didn't want to make the same frakking awful mistakes. Didn't want to push him away, and then lose him and discover only then how damned much she had needed him.

She didn't want another Sam.

But Starbuck was still afraid, deep down where she didn't want to admit it to herself. Afraid that if she just let things go with Lee, lost control and just…embraced their relationship, her feelings, that… That something horrible would happen. She didn't know what. Didn't know whether it was baggage from her childhood or that taint that coloured her feelings for Lee making her feel that way, but she didn't like it. It was why, even now, she kept Lee at a distance.

She got scared. Her gut got scared, and a good pilot always listened to their gut.

And then Starbuck crested a hillock and her thoughts flew out of her head like startled birds as she stared at the sight before her.

She had never seen a herd of zebra before, only the carcasses the hunters brought back to the settlement. She had thought the skins were beautiful – so unusual, so striking, but the skins were no match for the real thing. They were a vast blanket of black and white on the plains below her, the patterning on their coats making them seem to undulate and waver, producing a mesmerising disorientating effect. It was a good way to confuse predators, Starbuck realised, rifle slipping down ready into her hands automatically.

The younger animals mostly seemed grouped in towards the middle of the herd; their parents were obviously watchful caretakers, and Starbuck found herself wondering if she would be able to take down a beast. She didn't mind going home empty handed, but she was determined to try. She circled around them, checking the wind direction and making sure to stay downwind, not wanting to alert them to danger.

Time passed, and Starbuck had settled in at the base of a tree, lying in the grass on the edge of a low ridge, affording her a good view over the herd. She had selected the young animal she wanted to take down – a curious thing, which kept breaking away from the middle of the group and skirting the outsides, muzzle snuffling the grass. It was kinda cute. Starbuck almost felt bad about killing it. Almost. She gazed sharply down the rifle scope, hands holding the weapon steady, breath even and slow.

And then the herd went on alert, heads jerking upright from the grass they had been plucking, and huddling closer together. The young foal disappeared into the pack, and Starbuck swore under her breath. What had spooked them? She lowered her rifle and pushed herself up into a crouch, grabbing a handful of dust and letting it fall to the ground, checking the wind direction. It hadn't changed. They couldn't have caught her scent, so what had made them so frakking edgy? Starbuck started feeling edgy herself, rising to her feet, rifle clutched in hand.

That was when she saw it – a lion, skirting around the herd at her 1 o'clock. Frak. Her breath caught in her throat. Colonists had been torn apart by those creatures. They were godsdamned dangerous. Starbuck took a step back; behind the tree she stood next to, hoping the lion hadn't seen her. It was male, and young – its huge ruff of fur only just growing in. But young though it might be, it was still frakking enormous in comparison to her.

Starbuck couldn't outrun it, couldn't necessarily take it down quickly even with this high-powered rifle – she had heard that they were tough animals. She was godsdamned frakked if it caught her scent.

Ohhh frak.

It had caught her scent. The great cat was about a couple hundred metres away, and had stopped slinking through the long grass, and was bounding toward Starbuck. Shit.

"Shit, shit, shit!"

It was a lean, muscular animal, and looked like it would weigh in at 350lbs at the minimum – massive, covering the ground between her and itself so godsdamned quickly.

Shit.

She lifted the rifle in her hands, sighted fast, and squeezed the trigger. It made a snarling, yelping sound and she saw red bloom along its flank. Frak! She'd winged it. She aimed and fired – another graze, its ear this time – right through the tip of its ear and out through its godsdamned mane. Shit. Again – she hit the shoulder and the creature made a thundering rumbling sound, stumbling before charging on. There was nowhere to run and it was nearly on her…

Starbuck squeezed the trigger again and again, trying desperately to keep her hands steady, her lips pressed into a thin, focused line. Cool and calm under pressure, she told herself, terror thrilling in her veins like fire. This was not like being in a viper with a raider on your tail – somehow it was an entirely new and frightening experience, even though failing would result in the same outcome.

She held her breath, and fired.

Fifteen metres away and it yelped and made a yowling roar again, its momentum flipping it head over heels as her shot thudded home dead centre in its chest. It tumbled and then skidded to a stop only a couple of metres away, flat on its back, blood leaking rich and dark from the wound, one paw twitching weakly in its death throes. Starbuck sighted and pulled the trigger again – just to make sure the godsdamned thing was really dead – and swore when nothing happened. Frak, she'd emptied the godsdamned magazine at that thing, and only gotten in one good shot. That was some frakking poor shooting on her part.

The creature's twitching stopped, and Starbuck stepped cautiously closer, yanking her hunting knife. Slit the lion's throat to make sure it was dead, and then skin and butcher the thing. If she couldn't have zebra – they had moved off further into the distance, nervous and packed together tightly – then she'd godsdamned well make sure she got the lion. Starbuck leant over it, reaching down to cut its throat and bleed it out.

And then the thing suddenly twisted up like some hideous godsdamned zombie and was on her before she could even scream, all claws and teeth and fury crashing into her and smashing her to the ground. Starbuck's head hit dirt hard enough to daze her, and claws raked her knife arm, her other hand snapping up instinctively to push at the creature's head, driving the snarling, drooling mouth away from her face. Her knife arm was trapped beneath its enormous paw, its head too massive and powerful to force back. Her heels scrabbled at the ground, every inch of her body screaming out as she pushed her muscles past their limits, just to try and keep it from tearing her to shreds.

There was no way she could kill it, she realised in a glazed flash of truth. Starbuck kept fighting though; if it was going to kill her, she'd frakking give it a good fight first. Its claws raked her arm again and she jerked out a scream – the pain was like nothing else she'd ever felt, like liquid fire delving down and through her flesh. She could barely breathe beneath it; well over 300 thrashing, furious pounds crushing her, teeth at least an inch long snapping and snarling at her face, her hand desperately, frantically, trying to keep its head at bay.

Black spots danced in her vision. Her lungs screamed for air. Everything started going dark and splotchy, and the teeth lunged forward and scraped at her cheek as she twisted her head to one side to avoid the bite.

This was it, She thought dazedly.

Well, frak.

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Authors Note: To be continued in Part Two - Inimicus Animo…and then it's on to Episode Four: The Trials and Tribulations of Parenthood.

The character Leon, is a Two who has become an individual, and taken his own name – the name being a variation on Leoben. I figure that now they aren't resurrecting and sharing memories etc, the Cylons would start becoming more and more individuals, with differing opinions and beliefs. Not all of them, of course, but a good handful. So far in the series, I've introduced Alice (Redwing's girlfriend and an Eight, mentioned by Starbuck in Episode One), Sarah (the Eight who is on the Council), Leonidas (A Two that Lee spoke to in Episode Three, who agrees with Lee that violence isn't the way the dissident movement should be heading), and now, Leon.

I normally don't use poems/songs/quotes at the beginning of stories, but I chose that one because I felt it lent the Interlude the right sort of atmosphere. I just love that last line. Also, when I looked at the poem and read it through with the series in mind, it actually has some relevance … vague and obscure hints as to what may come. A prophecy of a sort – although as we all know, in the BSG 'verse, prophecies don't always work out the way you think…

I hope I managed to explain Starbuck's feelings for Sam/Lee clearly in this chapter. It's surprisingly hard to try to lay out what I think the character is feeling/what her motivations are, because I think her feelings would be very complicated, and not clear-cut in the slightest. But hopefully, the inner monologue-ing helped explain things in a way that makes sense.

Please, leave a review and let me know what you thought of it :)