See first installment for headers and disclaimer.

Chapter 2 Thread of Life

Kara's barely out of his sight, and he regrets letting her go. Lee distractedly notes Rachel's enthusiasm for the evening has increased substantially in the last ten minutes. She shuffles the Adama brothers out of her doorway, almost slams it in their wake in her eagerness to dress for the night out. Zak practically bounces up the stairs, but Lee travels more conservatively toward the fifth floor, deep in thought. Why did he let Kara go alone? She has to be reeling, hell he's reeling. He should've…

"What's with this 'Apollo' crap?" Zak interrupts Lee's internal monologue when he re-enters his brother's dorm room.

"Huh?" Lee checks through his duffel for club wear.

Zak pulls his tanks over his head. "Your friend Kara called you Apollo."

"Oh, it's my call sign," Lee relays.

"You have the call sign of a god?" Zak stops in his search for his toiletries to laugh at the idea.

Lee's lips press together. "Son of Zeus."

Zak looks away, a brief flash of annoyance on his face. "When did you get gifted with it?" he moves on.

"Umm…" Lee falters. He'd gotten rid of his nugget call sign fairly late. He hadn't been gifted until the first week of War College—two weeks away from now. "It was after one of the instructors caught some old footage of Dad," he compromises the when for how. "Played it during a lecture. Then presto," Lee pulls his hands out of his bag to gesture. "Instant call sign."

"It could be worse." Zak finally finds his shaving cream. "They could call you junior," he teases.

"Don't even joke about that." Lee smiles, letting himself be drawn out for a moment. Then the surrealism of his current conversation hits him all of a sudden: He's standing in Zak's dorm room, talking with him about issues that haven't really mattered in a long while. He's talking with Zak—his dead brother.

Lee sits down on the edge of Zak's bed. He takes a deep breath and smells that spicy shampoo that Zak used to use, the peppermint of his favorite bubblegum, and beneath them both, a scent Lee didn't realize he'd known, let alone forgotten. "It is real." He can barely hear himself think for all the ideas that pummel his psyche at once. He stands up abruptly, startles Zak when he grabs his hand.

"Hey!" Cadet Adama steps backward but can't escape his brother's grip.

"Zak, you know I love you, right?"

"Yeah, what the hell is wrong with you, Lee?" Zak looks to Lee's hand then back to his face.

"Nothing. Nothing." Lee shakes his head but can't even blink for fear of what might happen if he takes his eyes off Zak. "You know there's a hell of a lot more to life than flying, right? That crap Dad used to say, 'A man isn't a man—'"

"Until he wears the wings of a viper pilot," Zak finishes with a nod.

Again Lee shakes his head, knowing his eyes are intense by the way Zak's face crumples and shifts in response. "It's not true. I didn't feel any more like a man after I got my wings. I do love to fly," he backtracks in order to be truthful, "But it's despite what Dad said, not because of it."

"Hey, I don't want to get in the middle." Zak raises his free hand. "With Anne as sick as she is, Dad needs all the support he can get."

"Look, I'm not trying to turn you against him." Lee loosens his grip by sheer force of will. "Maybe I did before," he continues when Zak opens his mouth in silent rebuttal. "I don't remember. I'm just saying that I was wrong." That gets his brother's attention. Lee tries to calm his thoughts by regulating his breathing. "I thought that I was headed in the direction I was because it was what I wanted, but I was wrong. I hated the idea of turning into Dad, and because of that I became someone I couldn't recognize. I don't want to see that happen to you."

Zak searches his brother's eyes, studies the tenseness of his muscles. "OK," Zak nods. "I'll be sure if I go after it that I want it."

Lee averts his eyes, sniffs, swallows. "Good," he nods back to his kid brother. Belatedly, he lets go of Zak's hand, suddenly realizing that, as a viper pilot, his grip far supersedes that of his brother. He had to have hurt him. "Geez Zak, I, um…" he starts to apologize. Zak waves him off.

"No harm done," Zak demonstrates with a crack of his wrist and a wiggle of his fingers. "But for frak's sake, Lee," Zak sets an arm across his shoulders. "You seriously need to get laid."

B

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G

The music expands from the speakers, fills the air, and pounds on the walls—the ceiling—the floor—like it's dying to get out. It thrums through Lee like a viper through a never-ending tunnel launch. He checks his watch and notes it's still a couple minutes too soon for Kara. While she wouldn't miss this next reunion with Zak, he knows she wouldn't dare to come early for it either—too much anticipation in too public a venue.

Lee busies himself by ordering four shots of Ambrosia at the bar. He returns to his brother's group of friends, who light up when they see the alcohol, apparently thinking Lee bought the drinks for them. For a moment, he very nearly feels abashed that he has no plans to share with them. Before they can reach for the shots, Starbuck swiftly comes up on their 3 o'clock in a flirty little black dress that hugs her ass just right. She bypasses the table for the liquor.

She takes her shots from his hands, leaving him his two. They give a private toast, one that's never had words, but one that Lee always approximates to something like, I'm glad we're here together. He wonders if Kara ever tried to vocalize their ritual, even internally. Probably not, he decides as they share their second shot on the heels of the first; she's more likely to take life as it comes rather than talk to it once it gets there. He and Kara set their empty glasses on the table beside them—the one Zak and his friends have gathered 'round, but she still avoids eye contact with the younger set.

Instead, she flattens her palm on Lee's chest, spreading her fingers and maximizing points of contact. "Hey," her lips form the greeting.

"Hey." He brings his hand over hers and holds it to him.

Zak slides from his chair to approach Kara. He talks in Kara's ear. It looks like he says, "It's good to see you again." There's nothing sexual in the gesture, just a man trying to be heard over the din of the bass, but it startles Kara. She recovers well, laughs at herself, but Lee can tell she's shaken. Zak asks her to dance, and Lee lets her go so the two can make their way to the middle of the floor. The table's other occupants also pair off or look for partners, leaving Lee alone with Rachel at its tall, round surface.

Lee watches Kara with his brother, forcing himself to note, as he often did when she and Zak were engaged, that they were truly good together. He wants to be able to smile at the picture they make, a picture he never thought he'd see again. He blinks away.

He senses Rachel sipping her smuggled cocktail beside him and turns to face her. "Would you like to dance, too?" he asks her belatedly, just realizing he's being rude to her.

She curls an arm around his and smiles. "I would, Lee," she tries out his given name. "Thanks."

Lee immediately stands and pulls out her chair. He takes Rachel's hand and leads her through the maze of gyrating bodies, near the others. There is no other way to dance but close together, and although Lee is accustomed to tight quarters and no privacy due to nearly six years aboard various Battlestars, he is still somehow unprepared for the strange intimacy of dancing with his brother's sometime girlfriend when both she and Zak are supposed to be dead.

It's too much. They've only been on the floor a couple minutes, but Lee is ready to ask Rachel if she wouldn't mind sitting back down. He actually opens his mouth to ask, when he sees Rachel turn. He feels her squeeze his hand and watches her disappear, leaving Starbuck in her wake.

"Hey flyboy," Kara teases, and pulls him to her until they're forehead to forehead. She places her hands at either side of his head, directly over his ears. "Shh," she moves her lips, drawn pinker tonight than he's used to. The sound is blocked, but he feels her meaning in the vibration of the air between them. She touches his mouth with hers fleetingly, and it is not enough—it is never enough—but it brings his focus to her and the points where they touch.

Her diversion works, but then, for whatever reason, she kisses him again. He kisses her back. He opens his mouth and tastes the waxy film of the lipstick he's ruining, and the sweet, thick Ambrosia she'd drunk with him. When his tongue slips and slides with hers, he tastes a memory that would've been better off forgotten had he ever been capable of doing so. She moans in his mouth, and he forgets where he is, what is happening. Later he'll realize that he even forgot Zak.

He runs his hands down her sides, skims his fingertips against her thighs, grabs her tight ass with both hands, and kneads. Her gasp and her hands running through his hair urge him to whisper her name, more than anything to remind himself it's really her he's with.

"Lee!" she moans back, right below his ear, and he hadn't realized until that moment how much he'd needed her to say his name, to acknowledge him, his hands on her body, his need mixed with hers. He recaptures her lips and just as quickly loses them again to her abandon when his hand follows the line at the top of her thigh to tease a finger inside her.

"Ahh!" she breathes in a squeal, her legs parting wider to accommodate him. With head leaned back, she shuts her eyes and breathes in and out shakily while he plays inside her. She slips a hand down his back as if forgetting it belongs to her even as she grabs him roughly by the hair with the other. He gasps wetly at the lightning of sensation her fingernails score through his hair and lets her lead his mouth to her neck. Gods how he remembers the way she kept exposing her neck to him—just like this—that only other time he'd ever been inside her.

The arm she'd held lax suddenly tightens on his lower back, yanking his shirt up where it rests against his slacks. Her eager fingers lay claim to him. He bares his teeth as the idea mixes with the sensation. He only has a moment to feel that soft skin on his back before a curt tap on his shoulder stops him from marking her neck with his teeth. He looks behind him to find two very large men that can only be marines or bouncers. Still, he has to blink a few times before he can make the connection between their presence and his position, before he realizes they're kicking him and Kara out.

"We're going to have to ask you to take this out of here, sir." The bigger guy points to the red exit sign. Lee licks his lips, suddenly very aware of where they are, where his hands are. He nods and slowly eases out of her. Less hurriedly, she scratches her fingernails down his back, at once jerking his gaze and all his attention back to her.

Her lips curl devilishly when she lightly shoves him away. "You heard the man, Lieutenant."

B

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G

The night is warm when Kara steps back outside, no doubt the Ambrosia already hard at work, but Lee's hand spanning her lower back is even hotter. She feels his tenseness in the quick and measured beats of his footsteps, sees it spanning his features with the blank shock that's not quite worn away since the bouncers interrupted them. She lets him lead her behind the club and away from hearing range, while she watches the ground they overtake, considering how she might make him forget he just broke about seven aspects of Fleet Policy in order to get him to do it again. He stops her on the walkway between the parking lot and the back of the building.

"What the hell did you drive?" he begs with such strained urgency she answers immediately.

"It's the red truck near the lot entrance," she barely replies when he grabs her arm and drags her in that direction. She looks between his profile and the asphalt in front of her. "Oh," she swallows a breath and pulls on his hand. He doesn't query why, just turns and kisses her, mouth open, one hand in hers, the other blazing a trial to her thigh. She swings both arms around his neck, sends her hands gripping and twisting through his hair. His freed digits immediately join their counterparts below her waist.

He pushes her backward, leans her against the hood of an anonymous car. Her legs capture him by instinct. Her fingers work their way under his collar to caress his bare back, remembering how he used to beg her for a backrub when they'd been on Galactica together. He was always more content with light fingers than digging thumbs. It didn't take her long to realize he just wanted to be touched.

His shuddering sigh forces her eyes up, but she is soon distracted by the audience of underclassmen she spies over Lee's shoulder. With anyone else she wouldn't care—privacy was a luxury that hadn't survived the end of the worlds—but Lee has a tendency to get shy when he's caught with is pants down.

"Come on flyboy," she urges him up with a little push to his chest. He backs off after another kiss to the side of her neck and finds her eye, only then ascertaining her intention to pause for a better venue, not to halt altogether. His sigh this time is of relief. He peeks behind him at her vehicle and tugs her hand. They hurry towards it.

"Where are your keys?" he demands, glancing over her body and seeming to note the lack of purse.

She shakes her head and reaches in her pocket to unpin the two keys there. "I don't think so Apollo. This is my ride."

"You've had too much to drink," he insists, holding out his hand.

"I had two shots of Ambrosia, same as you."

"How much did you have before you left home?"

She stares at him in silence a moment, somehow unused to him knowing her so well despite the fact that he's probably always known this about her. The intensity of his stare actually makes her breath catch—gods it feels so good to have him look at her again. This time when he prods her with an open hand, she releases the keys. He unlocks the passenger door first, opens it, and helps her in. She's still surprised enough to let him. He goes around the vehicle and climbs in himself. He starts the truck and moves down the road. He follows the street signs and speed limits to her home, but she sees his fingers, itchy on the wheel, and the measured restraint in his leg as he strains to keep from opening up the throttle. She keeps to her side of the cab, watching him as he watches the road: the quick rise and shallow fall of his chest, the clenching and unclenching of his jaw, the constant shifting of his legs and seat as he adjusts and re-adjusts. All these things seem to support the unbelievable conclusion that this moment is really happening.

He parks in her assigned spot next to her apartment building as if he did it every night. He nearly jumps from the truck, runs around to get her door. She beats him to it, afraid the gods or Lee will change their minds. He takes her hand, and they hustle up the stairs. He unlocks her door with the key he still carries. He ushers her inside, then follows himself. When he shuts and locks the door, she pushes him into it.

Her hands yank on both sides of his shirt, ripping off a few buttons as she exposes his chest to her eyes, her touch. She traces his pecs with her fingers, leans in a second to bite the skin above, trying to force his submission, to ensure his focus stays on her, on what they're doing in this moment. He leans against the door and lets her.

She kisses her way to his mouth while her hands tease their way to his slacks. She unbuttons, unzips, aches to make him undone. He gentles her fervor with the heat, the single-minded drive of his kisses. And she's so grateful, so glad to be given another chance. Gods how she loves the feel of his mouth, the taste of him! She can't get enough of the elusive flavor.

She kicks off her heels. They strike sharply on the wooden floor behind her. She feels Lee's balance change twice as he toes off his own shoes. She reaches into his boxers while she's got him trapped, strokes up…down, but can't stand her own slow pace. She has to wrap her hand around him. His cock, hot and twitching in her grasp, seems as anxious to be inside her as she is to feel him there.

She slowly backs towards the general direction of the bedroom, moves a little faster when she's sure he's coming with her. He keeps her lips connected to his with a hand on the back of her head. She keeps his hips close with the grip she has on him. She's glad the only light in the room comes from the streetlamps streaming through the blinds. She's scared any more illumination would remind him too much of who he's with, what she's done. He sheds his shirt from his shoulders, lifts his hands high on her arms, pulls her closer to him even as he pushes her backward, urges them to move faster. His grasp directs her to the first bedroom door.

"The next one's mine," she whispers through kisses, not sure if he forgot or is simply too distracted. They make it through her doorway, towards her bed. She has to let go of him while he strips her dress from her body, freeing her breasts and leaving her only in her panties. His hands canvas the uncovered skin. His lips follow. "Lee!" she's tricked into a giggle and bids him back up with a hand on his chin when he reaches her ticklish belly. He grins up at her before obeying the command, the glee in his eyes so light-hearted it takes her breath away. Oh, gods Lee, I love you, too, she thinks the words but doesn't dare say them aloud.

When he straightens, she grabs his pants on either side of the open zipper and pulls him to her. His hands close roughly above her elbows like he's going to stop her, but he doesn't, just holds on tight enough that she knows she'll have bruises tomorrow. She slips her hands around his waist, reaches beneath the waistband of his boxers, holds his ass in both hands. His swallow is audible. He clears his throat. Their eyes meet. And he looks so open, so bare. He only holds her gaze a second, maybe two, before his mouth goes deliberately, purposefully—straight for her neck, licking and nipping and biting, distracting her even from the grip she has beneath his shorts.

His hands leave her abruptly, and she watches as he reaches down, yanks off his clothes. His body is naked in front of her, and his hands are just as warm when he brings them back to her body, but his eyes don't meet hers again.

I love you, Lee, she thinks again as he jerks her panties roughly down her thighs.

I love you, Lee,she bites her lip when they fall back heavily on the bed.

I love you, Lee, she arches her back when he pushes inside.

"I love you, Lee," she mouths the words once he falls asleep.

Chapter 3 Immersion

Bacon. Lee smells bacon for the first time in a year—since the Fleet ran out. He looks beside him, but Starbuck's already out of bed. Bacon. He sniffs, pulls on his boxers and one of Kara's oversized T-shirts and follows the scent into the kitchen. Barely dressed in a pair of running shorts and one very non-regulation tank, Kara stands in front of the stove, spatula in hand. The bacon fries in one skillet, what looks like the beginnings of an omelet in the next. She must've been to the corner convenience store already this morning, there's no way she had all these ingredients in her fridge last night.

Lee stills to watch her as she moves in her kitchen. His eyes traverse her body, pausing where the shorts barely cover her best before studying her motions again. After a moment, her movements become more stilted—she knows he's watching her. She angles her neck to one side, as if he could kiss it from here. He breathes out, just a little, at the telegraphed invitation. The muscles in his chest relax a touch. He almost even smiles as he steals up behind her and gingerly slips his arms around her waist. When Kara leans back into him immediately, he eases into her more completely.

His lips touch to her shoulder—just a little tease. Her teeth close over her bottom lip, but she still smiles.

"Come to mark me some more flyboy?" she asks, then slides a hand up to hold him to her.

He doesn't answer, just continues lightly pressing his lips to her skin, finally nuzzling her neck just to feel her breathing become uneven, to know it gets to her, too.

"Morning," he finally says and eases away to try to look at her.

She clears her throat, straightens her neck out, and replies, "Good morning."

They stand there beside each other for a moment with him watching her profile, safe from the burn of her eyes for a moment. When she turns to him, he's grateful that she lifts her gaze slowly because it stills him where he stands. As she watches him, she tries to smile a little—not a hint of a smirk, nor the idea that the night before was at all a joke to her. He breathes out a little bit more, and her smile becomes jovial, becomes a grin. So of course he smiles back.

The ringing of a cell phone causes him to look away. She starts to move from the stove, but he waves her off and goes to fetch the source of the sound in the living room.

"Should be on the desk by the door," she yells from the kitchen.

The little black phone is exactly where she says. "Hello?" he picks it up without looking at the ID screen, forgetting that he can.

"Lee!" His brother's voice comes clearly across the line. "So this is Kara's number. It was on my ID but without a name, so I wasn't sure."

"Zak." Lee's heart nearly stops. He has to sit down. He maneuvers over to Kara's sofa, barely remaining on his feet until then. The screech of metal on metal tells Lee that Kara's moving the pans off the fire. Her steps behind him confirm her eavesdropping.

"When I told you to get laid, I had no idea you would take me so seriously," Zak chuckles.

"Gods, Zak, I'm sorry!" Lee squeezes his eyes shut, feels his stomach sour, waits for the condemnation he knows he deserves. "I don't know why I would—" he cuts himself off. "I didn't even think—"

"Hey, don't worry," Zak interrupts. "We all got home safe. Hooper, that guy with the brown hair and glasses? He gave us a lift. He can't drink because of some enzyme thing, but he stills likes to go out," Zak offers while Lee's still considering the ramifications of his actions last night.

"But Kara—" Lee starts, not really having any idea what he's going to say but knowing he's ruined any possibility for her and Zak.

"I liked her, she seemed pretty nice. And good for you," Zak adds. "I never thought I'd see my by-the-book big brother get kicked out of a club and Chalmer's at that for crying out loud! People frak in the bathroom there all the time, just not on the dance floor," he teases.

"You saw us?" Lee drops his head in his hand, already pounding with the depth of his betrayal. "Oh, gods you saw us," he exhales the words, as he considers further. "Why didn't you say anything?" he redirects.

Zak laughs again. "I didn't really think you'd want the distraction. You should've seen Rachel's face!" Zak continues, still laughing aloud. "I don't think she ever believed me before when I told her you could let loose like anybody else."

"That must've been something," Lee adds lamely.

"Hey listen, are you guys coming up for air soon? A bunch of us are going out tonight, nothing strenuous because class starts tomorrow, but we wanted to know if you guys want to come."

"Tonight?" Lee questions and turns to look at Kara. She nods, spatula still in hand, eyes wide and wounded. Oh frak. He has to look away. "That, that sounds good," he stutters. "We'll give you a call in a little bit."

"OK, I'll talk to you then," Zak signs off.

"Bye Zak," Lee speaks softly, peers back at Kara, and closes the phone.

She licks her lips and drops her gaze, going back in the kitchen to busy herself with breakfast. Lee swallows, then stands and trails after her. He pulls out a chair at the small square table, pushing aside bills and ready-to-eat food like energy bars and fruit to steady his elbows on its surface. He reconsiders the lack of space and organization, and he piles the bills together, puts all the bananas and grapes to one side, and then shifts the processed foods into another corner. He speaks when he can no longer avoid it.

"We had a deal, Zak and me," Lee begins quietly, repositioning the fruit again. "He liked a girl that had a crush on me. He was barely fifteen. He hadn't grown into himself at all. It was the most self conscious he's ever been. I didn't feel one way or the other about the girl, but Zak and I made a pact that day, never to go after the same woman. He never broke it," Lee finishes in a whisper, his eyes falling on the table.

"Neither did you," Kara insists, her voice still directed away from him.

Lee shakes his head, voice rising in frustration. "Kara, don't you understand what I'm saying? Even if he fell in love with you tomorrow, he'd never make a move. He'll think he's honoring the promise we made to each other, when I'm the one who broke it."

Kara stills completely. Lee hadn't even realized she'd been moving in any way at all until she isn't anymore. He sits up, unsure if he should move or in what direction, uncertain as to how hard it's hit her. He watches her shoulders move as she takes a deep breath, the tenseness of the moment before abruptly gone. "Zak doesn't even know me, and it wouldn't matter if he did because I'm not that girl anymore." A humorless laugh escapes her, "Gods there's so much I could never say to him," she sniffs, pauses to push her hair away from her face, "and he'd never even know the difference."

Lee blinks away from her, the truth in her words resonating through him, because it isn't just Kara's truth for Zak. It's Lee's truth too—how could Lee ever speak to Zak about a world that didn't include him? How could he ever burden someone he loved so much with the future he'd do anything to keep from unraveling? How can he reconnect with Zak when he can't share his biggest secrets with him?

"Maybe he won't know any different," Lee responds aloud, not really sure of his own words. That's why he purses his lip and has to remind her, "But you will."

Kara twists to look at him briefly, but then re-focuses on the food. Something is burnt. He hopes it's not the bacon. When she doesn't turn around again for several minutes, he leans back in the seat. She finishes making their meal. She fixes them each a plate, sets one in front of him, one in front of the chair beside him. But instead of sitting next to him, she adjusts his position in the chair and sits in his lap without warning, clasping her hands behind his neck. His arms automatically wrap around her, forgetting they shouldn't continue their intimacy with her body. Still, he doesn't let go when his mind catches up with his movements.

Lee crinkles his brow, unsure of where this is going, afraid to be wrong about her again and simply shamed to hold her so closely with Zak's voice still fresh in his ears. He watches while she bites her lip, adjusts her weight so she sits more heavily in his lap. The expression on her face is like any other time he's seen her trying to bluff her way through a bad hand.

"Do you think this is real, Lee?" Kara finally says. "Do you think we're really here together, in the past before we ever met?"

He clears his throat, contemplates both her question and her features, which are set in a mockery of her usual bravado. He's still trying to figure it all out when he shakes his head. "To be honest, I haven't thought about it very much." He searches Kara's eyes, then continues when she doesn't speak again. "I woke up at my mom's, and, once I realized Zak was alive, I couldn't think about anything else. And then I saw you, and I didn't think at all," he concludes, jaw tense and gaze down as what he's done to Zak, what he can't ever undo, hits him again. Regardless of who he and Kara are now, Zak should have had the choice to figure that out on his own. Maybe he and Kara would've found a way to make it work if they'd had half a chance. With intent, he loosens his grip on her waist. He tries, but he can't make himself let go.

With a hand under his chin, Kara forcefully pulls until they're eye to eye again. He's captured by the gaze that meets his. He's struck by how earnestly she's searching within him. "I've thought about it a lot," Kara tells him. "When I left you and Zak yesterday, and then all through the night. I couldn't sleep because I spent the whole night thinking about it."

His brow furrows even more, as he's still trying to catch up on both conversations they're having. He clears his throat and has to blink away, trying to direct his full attention to her words, trying to ignore her weight, so warm in his lap, trying to ignore her eyes. Gods, but her eyes have never lied to him before, not when he's really looked. "So what did you come up with?" Lee encourages, hoping for a distraction.

She stays quiet a moment, and he's afraid he's going to have to look back up at her before she'll answer. He's worried right up until she haltingly says, "I thought at first it had to be some sort of cylon simulator. One minute we're cylon prisoners and the next we're in the past, and we haven't made any mistakes that matter yet." She purses her lips, and he realizes he's been watching them. "And we're together." He looks to the ground but gets distracted by her legs. "But this is too real for a simulator—the music in Chalmer's, the frakking burnt omelet," he sees her gesture to the table from the corner of his eye, and he laughs. Thank goodness it isn't the bacon. "Then there's you." Her thumb slides along his jaw almost skittishly. He blinks back up to her gaze immediately.

The nervousness of her gesture makes him reach out his hand to grab hers, to still those fingers that never shake in the cockpit. She clears her throat. Her voice remains even when she speaks again, "I can't think of a single reason cylons would put us here on purpose, though, and I can't think of a way they'd be able to do it to us either."

Kara watches him like she expects him to answer the questions she hasn't quite asked. He rubs his thumb across her knuckles, and can't keep himself from wondering how many times Zak had held her hand just like this. He squeezes his eyes shut. "There are theories about time travel," Lee slowly recollects, distracted by the feel of her body against his. "They used to think that if a person could travel at the speed of light then he could appear in another part of the universe, not having aged a day, while time passed for everyone else."

Kara nods. "Right, I remember reading that at the academy. The theory was proven wrong by the use of first FTL drive. And even if it hadn't been, it would only work for going forward through time, not backward."

"Yeah," Lee argues, "but the theory could only be confirmed as incorrect up to a point." He gets a whiff of the bacon and inhales deeply, filling his nose and mouth with the scent. Gods it smells good. His fingers itch to grab a piece, or maybe it's his whole body, itching to get up and move away from this conversation they're not quite having.

"What do you mean?" She shifts her weight on his thighs. Her legs, bare and so smooth, slide against his legs while she rebalances.

Automatically, he grabs her thigh to help stabilize her. The firm muscle over soft skin feels so good, he opens up his fingers without thinking, starts stroking just below the cuff of her shorts. He blinks, trying to concentrate on her direct question rather than the wiggling temptation in his lap or the fried enticement behind her. He clears his throat. And talks fast. "Some scientists working in an outpost past the outer colonies discovered that while FTL drives were active, aging seemed to occur differently somehow. It was very cutting edge stuff at the end of the worlds. Gaeta told me about it one day after a CIC shift. They think that the FTL drives may push the ships into subspace."

Kara interrupts confidently, "And a nuclear blast in subspace could cause a rip in space-time." Lee tilts his head and smiles, surprised. Kara rolls her eyes. "Gaeta told that to everyone. I guess it's an interesting theory, and I even understand where the nuclear bomb comes in if the Admiral thought we were going to be kept as cylon prisoners," she wiggles in his lap as she gestures, and he holds her hip tighter to try to still her. "But why the frak would we have been in subspace on the planet, and if we did travel back in time, then why would we come to here and now?"

"We were in a space ship," he reminds her, trying to focus on his words, knowing she honestly wants his opinion. "Maybe the cylons revved up the FTL on the planet. It's been done before. It just takes a hell of a lot more fuel, and it's a lot more dangerous to calculate correctly because of the gravity. But as to why we ended up here and now…" He shrugs and takes a deep breath, the scent of the bacon acutely filling his senses once more. He peeks behind her, chancing a look at it. "I don't know." It's probably getting cold.

Kara turns and grabs a piece of the meat, stuffs it in his mouth. He laughs at his obviousness and grabs the end of the strip, biting off a piece and taking the rest in hand. The full, greasy flavor fills his mouth better than the Fleet portions ever did.

"Better?" She raises an eyebrow.

He grins back at her while he chews. "Somewhat," he speaks around the mouthful and dares to squeeze her thigh.

She smirks at him briefly, but her look of humor quickly fades. Lee chomps and swallows, then waits for her to speak. "I don't believe the cylons are capable of sending us back here on purpose," Kara confides, her tone conveying the weight she's given the topic. She breathes out through her mouth, licks her lips twice. "I think it was a gift from the gods," she whispers.

Lee looks away. With eyes low, he vaguely feels behind her to set the rest of the bacon back down. He clears his throat as another stalling technique. What can he say to that? If the gods gave her another opportunity with Zak, then he's just squandered it for her.

"Lee," Kara exhales impatiently, her tone forcing his eyes to hers. "Lee, what I'm trying to say is…" She furrows her brow, switching focus between his eyes like what she wants to say is written there. "Lee, if I've got a second chance, then I'm exactly where I want to be right now."

He stares at her, her words and actions this morning cycling through his head as they finally come full circle, finally merge to create meaning. After a long moment, Kara peers down and away from his gaze, unable to hold under his gaping. "You know it's OK if you don't feel the same," she ventures, her words breaking the spell.

"What about, what about Zak?" Lee asks, trying not to let himself think too far ahead yet. It wasn't just Zak he had to think about, but Sam and Dee, too. But then if he and Kara have never met them, do they owe either one of them anything? His heart speeds up in his chest. Gods could he do this? Could he have this?

"I'll always love him, Lee. But I…" She locks her jaw. "I knew last night, it's not the same at all. So you really didn't break any promises to Zak," she adds before he can get a word in. "I already knew I couldn't choose him again."

Lee shakes his head and worries the wound. "If this is because of his accident—"

"It's not," Kara sharply interrupts, her eyes now solidly meeting his. And then she waits.

Are we just talking about fighting and frakking again, Kara? He wants to know but doesn't voice the question this time. Instead he shakes his head to free the trappings of the thought. Whatever it is, it'll have to be enough. Her eyes stay open to watch his as he kisses her softly, his mouth closed, almost timid. He breaks away after the brief contact, trying not to reveal his tells.

"Lee?" Kara calls to him—a question, not a demand. She checks his face for a clue. She gasps a short breath, almost a sob, at whatever she finds, but she doesn't give him time to answer her. Roughly, Kara pulls him to her again, her kiss desperate. For once, she seems to need words.

He shifts, and she follows. He opens his mouth to speak, and she fills it so quickly he knows she's afraid. She loosens his tongue with her own needy one, "I've always wanted you," he tells her then, lips still linked with hers, courage still linked with hers, "even when you were Zak's," he whispers a secret he's never spoken aloud.

"I wanted you then, too," she confides back. He breaks from her lips to look at her, to wager the truth of her words. But he knows, anyway, before he sees the shame in her eyes, that her gaze is a reflection of his own. With a fist in her hair, he yanks her mouth to his again. She bites his lip, the pleasure as sharp as the sting. He bites her back. She moans his name into his mouth as their blood mingles. The mixture tastes like absolution.

Chapter 4 Spinning Lachesis

His eyes stay on the bed while he listens to Kara start up the shower. He tries not to shift in his seat by the dresser, wondering if she's reached for the soap yet. He braces himself to wait for the slosh and splash pattern that indicate she's probably washing her hair.

Lee knows she'll use the flowery shampoo and separate conditioner, a girly thing for Kara to do, but then she'd always let herself be more girly when no one was looking, as if it were shameful to like a sweet scent in her hair. Today Kara's secret will buy him more time.

He turns away from the sheets they'd tangled in all afternoon, would've tangled in all day if Zak hadn't called again. Lee walks to the living room, feeling every scratch, bite, and bruise Kara marked into his skin. He rubs the tooth marks on his chest; they seem deeper than the rest. He picks up his phone and heads for the kitchen where his call won't carry to Kara's ears. He dials automatically, surprised somewhere deep inside himself that he still knows the number by heart. He waits for an answer while he listens to Kara start to hum. He is intent on Kara's voice, on the subtle lilting of the higher notes and the fullness of the lower ones, so he is startled by the husky alto that suddenly sounds through the phone.

"I'm surprised to hear from you after last time." The woman in his ear can't be bothered with the niceties of a normal greeting.

"I need to see you." Apparently neither can he.

"Tomorrow, come early," she says hurriedly, and a lower voice, a man, demands her attention on the other end of the line.

"I can't be there before 0900," he warns, but isn't sure if she's heard him, the line is silent. He'd speak again to check if she's still there, but the shower stops. He hangs up the phone, careful to put it back in place by the door before venturing toward the bathroom. He smiles at Kara as she exits in a fluffy blue towel, reminding himself to keep his mouth shut for now, whatever the consequences are for tomorrow.

B

S

G

"Lee, Kara! Over here!" Zak's voice carries across Mac's Diner, too impatient to wait for their eyes to fall on him. Kara smiles at his buoyancy, at his vibrancy, his life.

Lee immediately sets toward his brother, pulling Kara with him by their joined hands. She yanks on them urgently, too sore to move that quickly. Lee glances back at her. His look of concern shifts quickly to a smirk. She rolls her eyes away from him, noting the green vinyl upholstery of the seats for the first time. She thinks they'd been blue the last time she'd been here. While Lee offers a quick hello to Zak and Rachel and three of their friends from last night, Kara vaguely wonders when the restaurant's owner will seek the new hue.

Kara slides into the large semi-circular booth first, gingerly sidling up to Rachel, who is cuddling Zak. She offers them a smile. When she peers back at Lee scooting in beside her, he's biting his lip, brow already furrowed with distress. She smiles at him, grabs his hand under the table, not really knowing how to reassure him in the small gestures he prefers. He doesn't smile back, but the warm squeeze and hot look he returns is better.

"I didn't get to introduce you to anyone last night," Zak begins, and when Kara points her gaze in his direction, the first thing she sees is his barely controlled grin. "This is Mark," Zak points to the blond boy opposite Lee. "Allison." The girl with the perky nose waves. "And Greg," Zak ends introductions with the nerdy-looking kid beside him. "Everybody this is my brother, Lieutenant Lee Adama, and Lieutenant Kara Thrace: Apollo and Starbuck," Zak finishes proudly.

"It's always good to meet more of Zak's friends," Lee the diplomat nods and answers for both he and Kara.

"How's it going?" Kara chimes in just to be contrary.

"Zak says you guys are viper pilots," Mark starts in, and Kara is surprised to remember she used to enjoy that kind of hero worship, that unabashed awe without the honest gratitude that grounds you in the reality of what you do.

Kara looks to Lee only to find him looking back at her, the tilt of his head suggesting he'd rather she field the question. She clears her throat. "Yeah," Kara nods and looks across the table, "we both took the option for flight school and officer candidate school while we were still undergrads."

"I didn't know they still did that." Allison gives them a skeptical glance. "What's the need to rush people through to lieutenant at such a young age in a post-armistice world?"

Kara narrows her eyes at the slight. "Rushed through? Do you have any idea what it takes to option for either, Cadet?" Kara jerks her head toward Lee. "Lieutenant Adama was in the top five percent of his class in officer candidate school, and that was the top five percent of everybody, not just those who qualified for the early admission. He'll make Admiral one day because he's that damn good. The early admission isn't for everybody, that much is obvious," Kara lets her gaze drop down the cadet's front and back up, "but just because you can't hack it little girl, doesn't mean that nobody can."

In the uncomfortable silence that follows Kara's reprimand, the other cadets cough slightly and clear their throats, but Kara keeps her hardest stare on their fellow, frightened into submission in front of her, until Lee pulls on the hand still entwined with his, bringing her attention to the waitress at the head of the table. "Right," Kara blinks. "I'll take a cheeseburger with fries and a chocolate milkshake."

Lee exhales on a chuckle. "Can't argue with that. I'll have the same. Oh, but with bacon on the cheeseburger, please." Kara watches him smile at the server with the ugly pink apron that boasts Mac's Diner has the Best Burgers in Town, already charming the feathers Kara's ruffled. "So I'll make Admiral, will I?" Lee whispers directly into her ear while the waitress takes the rest of the party's orders.

"Hey," Kara shrugs, keeping the close proximity that he's initiated to keep their conversation private. "It's not like you've got far to go, Commander." Since she's already close, she nudges his cheek just a little with her jaw, just enough to feel the rasp of his unshaven face against her smooth skin. He rubs her right back.

"I'm just another lieutenant, now. Who knows what the future might bring this time?"

She chuckles. "Are you kidding, Lee? Early admission to both officer candidate school and flight school and then War College less than a month after graduation? They've been shaping you for command since your first semester at the Academy."

He stiffens, and his breathing changes at her words. He lets go of her hand. She backs away to find the root of the problem, but by the time she can see his eyes, he's shielded them. "Lee?" she asks, wishing she could've seen his eyes while she spoke. He gives her a tight smile, meant to reassure, but working towards everything except comfort. "Lee?" she demands this time.

"Hmm?" Lee furrows his brow like he doesn't know why she's questioning him. Before he's forced to give her an answer, Rachel brings them back into the conversation with what she obviously believes to be a peacemaking subject after her fellow cadet's faux pas:

"So how did you and Lee meet, Kara?" Rachel clinks her silverware together when she asks.

Kara blinks, her breath nearly stopped by the abrupt jump from her present to her past. She shifts her upper body to face Rachel, pulling her elbows on top of the table, stalling as she recalls: the mini-park near Folstein Hall, Lee directly from a meeting where he'd served as an aide for then-Commander Nagala at Fleet Headquarters, still in dress blues, hair perfectly combed, walk perfectly crisp, creases only permitted where appropriate. She and Zak had been playing Frisbee, sweaty and dirty from their near violent competition. Zak had egged her on deliberately, trying to get out all her nervousness at the idea of meeting a member of Zak's family. Zak… Kara had loved him for it later, but when spit-and-polish Lieutenant Lee Adama walked over to her for the first time and held out his hand, she'd been horrified. Kara is nearly as tongue-tied at Rachel's question as she had been in that moment nearly six years ago.

"She hit me in the head with a Frisbee," Lee speaks up, takes the focus from Kara as much by the affection of his words as their actual content.

"What? You mean on purpose?" Zak responds quizzically, the expression achingly familiar on his ever-curious face.

"Oh yes, definitely on purpose," Lee's voice confirms behind her shoulder.

"Why did you throw it at him?" Rachel inquires, ears turning as red as they had the day before when she'd been holding back a laugh.

Kara licks her lips, her own grin startling her as the development in the conversation finally registers and evokes a better memory—this one more Lee than Zak—and occurring a bare moment after that first uncomfortable handshake: Zak had invited Lee into their game, but Lee refused to take his jacket off and play. She'd been sure the contrast between them had been too great, that he'd hated her on sight, what with her hair no doubt matted and greasy, sweat dripping from her forehead all the way down, and mud and grass covering her from end to end. So while spit-and-polish Lieutenant Lee Adama watched Zak gather their blanket and bag, Kara lobbed the Frisbee at his head. Her aim had been true despite her anger and hurt; the disc thwacked Lee's temple and bounced to the ground, unrepentant at his feet. When Lee looked up at her, it was as if that Frisbee's jolt had knocked his 'good lieutenant' mask out of place, just enough for her to catch a peek at the real Lee. The look he gave her somehow forged the first connection they ever had. She'd never known what he found in her returned gaze, but it made him smirk, made him unbutton his way to his tanks, grab the disc, and throw it right back at her head. She barely caught it, and he never let up on her since.

"I threw the Frisbee at his head," Kara turns around to look at Lee but addresses her inquisitors, "because he was being an asshole." She pokes him in the chest. "You hit me back," she accuses, the curling of her lips now ridiculously beyond her control.

Lee grins back. "Eventually." He grabs her thrusting fingers, pulls her hand to his lap in a gesture too gentle for them but possessive enough not to matter. "You were vicious," he charges, but his assertion contradicts the tender way she lets him brush the pad of his thumb over her knuckles, "and you never let up. It was hard to get in a good shot when you wouldn't let your guard down." He follows this complement to her vigilance by releasing his grip, letting her hand go like he didn't just treat her like a girl, like his girl.

Lee's eyes on her face are as soft as his hands were on her fingers. Kara swallows and looks away, not waiting for them to change. She focuses on the others at the table, who start speaking of classes assigned and books yet to buy. If she had her frakking chocolate milkshake she would have sipped it, but instead she considers how best to enter the cadets' conversation, wondering if she even remembers how to discuss such things. Then Rachel leans toward Zak, kisses his cheek, and tugs on Kara's arm.

"Ladies' room." Rachel jerks her head to the back of the restaurant, part invitation, part demand.

Beside her, Lee immediately moves to follow Rachel's decree, but Kara remains in the way for a beat longer. She'd forgotten that women ran to the restroom in pairs, that she had done this, long ago. It was frakkin' bizarre if you thought about it. Finally, Kara slides from the booth without a word, catching Lee's glance as she walks away from the table. She can tell he caught her delay. There is no amusement on his face, only empathy.

Kara trails behind Rachel, absently noting that prissy-nosed Allison hadn't been invited.

Rachel waits to talk until she's holding the ladies' room door open for Kara behind her. "Whoever taught Allison to speak should be shot!" Kara smirks at Rachel's reflection as it becomes visible in the long mirror spanning the wall above the ladies' room's three sinks. "Okay maybe not shot," Rachel amends, "just locked in a room with her for three days straight."

Kara leans against one of the small sink bowls, the far left one with the constant drip, facing Zak's girlfriend as she reapplies makeup with some secret invisible-until-in-use supply. "The Quorum of Twelve would have your ass for even suggesting that kind of abject torture."

Rachel pauses the motion of her blush brush. "Dammit you're right. I guess he will have to be shot."

Kara chuffs, turning back to the mirror. She glances between her obviously thrown-together-at-the-last-minute outfit and Rachel's more elegant appearance. Frak! Kara curses to herself. The T-shirt had seemed like a good idea back at the apartment: easy on for now and easy off later, but the bland gray of the I Got S.M.A.K.E.D. at Aerlon Station tee does nothing for her. She rotates, still looking at her reflection. At least she wore shorts—Lee's never said as much, but he loves her ass. Kara sighs, determinedly shifting away from the mirror. Why the frak does she even care? The clothes fit, they're even clean, but the image of Lee comes to mind, as polished as she is frumpy, and she's irritated at herself for caring about the difference.

"I was so glad to see you stick it to her," Rachel starts again while Kara completes her private condemnation. "She's been driving me crazy since Mark took up with her last semester."

"If you dislike her so much, then why put up with her crap?" Kara quizzes while Rachel contorts her eyelashes.

Rachel shrugs. "Don't really have a choice. Like I said, she's Mark's girlfriend." Rachel quickly glances to Kara and back to her own reflection. "And I've known Mark since we were thirteen. Hopefully he'll dump her soon, and we can all relax around him again."

Kara bites the tip of her thumb. "You know sometimes those kinds of girlfriends, like Allison, stick around. Sometimes it isn't enough to just ignore her presence. You have to learn to live with them, confront them, make some sort of compromise."

"Come on. You just saw her in action." The cadet gestures towards the dining room. "Do you honestly think there's any way to compromise with the Queen of Sheba out there?"

"I'm just saying sometimes there isn't much of a choice. There are some times you have to either find a way to deal with that kind of crap or lose a friend." Kara walks to the opposite side of the room, her steps almost in time with the drip of the sink, pretending interest in the graffiti on the partition separating the washing area from the first stall. She can feel Rachel's eyes on her, feel them in the other woman's stillness, almost see them in her own peripheral vision. The small splashes of water on porcelain become louder in the silence. Finally a compact clicks, and Kara relaxes.

"Don't take this the wrong way," the cadet begins, and Kara steels herself for an insult, "but Allison always used to remind me of Lieutenant Adama."

"Lee?" Kara is startled into facing Rachel's way again. "Why?"

Rachel shrugs, intent on her own reflection as she applies a deep red shade to her lips, and though the motion seems casual, Kara can tell she is making an effort to tread lightly. "He always used to seem so anal, so preachy." She rubs her lips together. "Know-it-all, you know?"

Kara raises her eyebrows and one side of her mouth. "Well, Lee is all of those things."

Rachel reaches for a paper towel, blots. "I guess after meeting you, seeing the two of you together, he seems like he's more than just that, but before, I didn't see that."

Kara washes her hands at the far left sink, mostly just because it's there and already dripping anyway. The dribble continues even after she twists both knobs as far off as she can. She shakes the excess water from her hands, reaches past Rachel to get a paper towel for herself, uses it, balls it up and holds it, squeezing it in an imitation of her daily hand-strengthening exercises. "Lee can sneak up on you," Kara finally says. "You can't just see all of him by looking at him dead on."

Rachel pivots, her back now reflecting in the mirror. "Have you been together long? You and Lee Adama?" Rachel says his first name with the same intonation she'd given his rank. "You said how you met, but not when," she digs, and abruptly, Kara can see Zak's influence in Rachel's line of questioning.

"Umm." The crease forms between Kara's eyebrows as she prepares a lie. "Actually…" Kara trails off, faltering with the knowledge that this answer will get back to Zak. She looks Rachel in the eye. The crinkle on her brow disappears. "The thing is Lee and I have known each other for a while. We just have really bad timing."

Rachel nods, eases her eyes away, then puts her makeup back into her various secret compartments. When she glances back up, she jerks her chin and directs her eyes to Kara's neck and a bruise shaped like Lee's mouth. "So is that the mark of better timing?"

Kara clears her throat, the sound morphing into a laugh. She tosses the wadded paper towel into the open trash. She shrugs at Rachel, afraid to give her a real answer, afraid to put a name to this thing that she and Lee have started. "That's nothing, you should see Lee's." Her eyebrows wiggle at the innuendo.

Smirking back, Rachel moves in front of Kara to open the door for them both again. "Looks like the food's here," she observes when they get closer to their booth.

The conversation at the table is still muffled from Kara's position, but the look on Lee's face, the layers in his expression are obvious to her. And Kara sees it for what it is, the mask of a good soldier… and a faithful commander. Kara stops to watch the farce, unaware of anything but the man sitting at the end of the booth, features set to face a mission he hasn't shared with her. It is only in this moment that Kara realizes just how much Lee is like his father, ready to face any obstacle for his people: to live for them, to die for them—to lie to them. Commander Lee Adama is hiding information from his troops, and as Kara watches Lee, she is chagrined to realize that Lee still counts her in that number.