Weakness Within (Who We Could Have Been)
Lee Adama is on the road to recovery after being shot. With the support of Anastasia Dualla and Karl Agathon, among others, Lee fights to get himself back into shape and to fight off his own demons.
Disclaimer: Battlestar Galactica and its characters do not belong to me, of course. I'm just dabbling in the fandom.
Part II: Returning
Lee Adama felt like his chest was going to explode. Helo was spotting him on the weight bench. Apollo was struggling to rack weights that were as much as fifty pounds lighter than he'd been lifting before being shot. The pain was quite intense in his right pectoral. Despite having Helo and Dee as his private cheering section, the frustration, more than his injury, was the element truly holding him back from making a full recovery. He couldn't help but remember a time not so long ago when he'd been left out in space to die, his oxygen running out, and only being able think about mountain springs...
Abruptly Lee sat up from the bench and exhaled sharply. He was visibly frustrated from what he considered a lack of progress, though everyone who knew him thought he was recovering well. He absent touched the scar tissue of his bullet wound while sitting, taking deep breaths. It took just a moment for Lee to wrap his hands and lay into the heavy bag hanging in the room. Boxing was one thing that always helped him center his mind, even though every punch from his right brought an irritating burning sensation from his wounded pectoral. Every strike brought a sharp grunt or growl. Helo and Dee could only watch on awkwardly as their friend set to destroying the leather bag.
Helo popped a cherry sucker into his mouth, taking position to help stabilize the bag from Lee's strikes. Lee glanced at the other, taller man significantly, but Helo just grinned whimsically and held on. Still across the room, Dee sat down on the bench and crossed her arms, watching on as Lee squared his feet against his inanimate opponent and set out to prove why he'd earned the moniker 'Apollo'.
With single-minded purpose, Lee tore into the leather surface. His fists created a crescendo of intensity and focus and frustration, but he would not stop. Even after Helo had to square himself against the bag to avoid being knocked off his feet, Lee continued his furious barrage against the bag. He went on for over thirty minutes, by which time he was drained, thirsty, and sore as hell, but no less angry with himself. Helo made himself scarce, leaving Dee and Lee alone in the weight room. Lee leaned against the wall, using one arm to hold himself up. Dee approached him from behind and wrapped her arms firmly around his waist and leaned into his shoulder.
"You're all sweaty," she said, hiding behind a smile. When Lee didn't reply, she embraced him tighter. "You're recovering well. I can see the improvement."
"It's not enough," Lee grunted, still refusing to face her.
Dee released him and took a step back, crossing her arms for the second time. She tapped her foot impatiently waiting for Lee to turn and look at her. "You can't expect to make a full recovery over-night, Apollo."
He leveled a haymaker punch right at the bag again, letting the momentum carry it away and ignoring it as it came back. The heavy bag's force thumped Lee in the back, shaking his balance and dropping him to the floor. Dee had to stifle a giggle. Lee went in and out of darker moods and mindsets, so she treasured every lighter moment they found. Moments like this reminded her of why she spent so much time around the man. She watched Lee roll over onto his back, loosening the wraps on his fists. Lee glanced at Dee, a grin tugging at his own face when he saw her trying to stave off the onslaught of laughter.
"What's so funny?" he asked, climbing to his feet again.
"You," she giggled, finally letting her good-natured laughter out. "Falling on your ass."
Her Lee was back. Her smile was infectious, he'd always told her, and now he was grinning like an idiot. "C'mere," Lee growled, squaring himself off against her as if preparing for a round of sparring.
With mock-seriousness, Dee put on her best Triad face and brought her hands up in an exaggerated fighter's pose, dancing around Lee. He shot a slow punch out, obviously aiming to miss. Dee was very familiar with their little game here, and captured his arm. She reached around and locked him in a headlock, still holding the rest, and carefully tossed him onto the ground. The whole time she was vividly aware of his injury and had no intention of injuring him further, but Lee grabbed her on his way down and brought her with him. She landed on top of him with a huff, the impact forcing their breath out.
Now their noses were just a handbreadth apart, staring into each other's eyes. They'd been in a similar position a couple months previous, before they'd started seeing each other regularly, and while Billy was still around. He'd interrupted the earlier encounter. But now there was no Billy, just Lee and Dee, so she took advantage of Lee's submissive position and pressed her lips to his. His hands, released from her martial grip, found their way to her face, her sides, her back, and eventually her bum. Dee squirmed in Lee's arms, but he found he had no desire to let go.
"Thanks," Lee murmured against her cheek. His lips pecked a line of kisses along her jawbone.
"For?" she whispered, shivering from the intensity of his affections.
Lee's arms returned to her back, hugging her against him tightly. They still hadn't moved from the floor of the fitness room, only sparring mats between Lee's back and the cold metal bulkheads of the Galactica's floor. "Just being here. Not giving up on me."
She propped herself up, elbows on both side of his face, and gazed down at him. "You're worth the effort."
"I'm not so sure..."
"Tut tut tut," she chastised. "We'll have none of that defeatist attitude on my watch, Captain Adama."
He laughed again, giving in to Dee's indefatigable positive mindset and infectious, cheery demeanor. She really was the best to him, and a smile was never far from her soft, beautiful lips... Lee felt a rush of warmth sweet his body, and he suddenly realized how compromising their position was. Dee seemed to mirror his thoughts and grudgingly crawled off Lee, first climbing to her knees, and then standing. She leaned and offered him her hand, which he accepted, joining her in the Land of the Bipedally Mobile.
"And now?" he asked, putting his dry tank top back on, and grimacing as it stuck to his drenched torso.
"We get you into the shower and into some clean clothes," Dee announced, placing a hand squarely in the middle of his chest and he advanced on her with a devilish grin. "No one who smells like you is allowed in my bunk."
Lee grinned at her. "Who needs any more motivation than that?"
As he turned away to walk off for the showers, Dee placed her hands on his shoulder blades and pushed him forward, advancing him into the hallway and propelling him toward the showers. "Go!"
----
Lee stepped out of the shower feeling like a new man. His demeanor was noticeably brighter. He felt better all around, although washing his hair had been somewhat painful having to reach over his head and really stretch out the damaged, tired flesh around his wound. He grudgingly admitted, though only to himself, that maybe he'd overdone it on the physio earlier. It had nothing to do with Helo and Dee watching on; he knew they supported and believed in him one hundred percent. The problem was entirely Lee Adama and how hard he was on himself. His harshest and most inscrutable critic was himself.
Lee dressed in green fatigue trousers and his tank tops, toweling his hair off as he watched through theGalactica's corridors. A few friends met him on the way, saying he 'looked good for a dead man' and making comments on the speed of his recovery. For the most part, Lee ignored them; though he counted the blessings of knowing so many people were rooting for his recovery. Lee eventually found his way to the Commanding Officer's quarters. He knocked on the hatch and was soon greeted by his father, Admiral William Adama, who welcomed his son into his rooms.
"Lee," William said sweepingly, offering his son a seat near his desk. "Good to see you up and about."
"Thanks," Lee returned, taking the proffered seat and wincing as he flopped down.
William watched him appraisingly, the father's ever-critical eye overriding the officer's. "How's the healing?"
Lee frowned a bit, flexing the shoulder to loosen the muscle a bit. It often grew stiff if he didn't keep himself mobile and forcing the muscle to adapt. "Slow. Way too slow. But Dee and Helo are determined to keep me active and recovering."
"You're sticking to Cottle's physiotherapy regimen?"
"Loosely."
The admiral laughed aloud, leaning back into his chair. "That I understand. I remember a pilot about the same age as you, some many years ago, being in a similar situation."
Lee raised an eyebrow. "Who?"
William gestured toward himself. "You don't think recklessness is a learned attribute?"
"Nature over nurture," Lee remarked with a small smile, happy to enjoy an amicable moment with his father without the concerns of the military or the fleet overriding their everyday lives.
"Unfortunately that's another trait you took from me rather than your mother," William muttered more than spoke, and with that, the moment was gone. "You'll have to stop by sometime this week for dinner. Bring Dee. We'll make an evening out of it."
Lee was rising from his chair, feeling the father-son awkwardness sneaking in. "I'll mention it to Dee when she gets off CIC duty."
William watched Lee leave, just glad to have had a few moments of time with his son as actually family, as opposed to the otherwise military rigidity that dominated most of their conversations. He sighed, steepling his fingers over the paperwork on his desk. If Dee's smile was infectious, so were Lee's dark mood swings. William knew himself and his son well enough to realize that Lee's moodiness would pass as his injury healed. He had a great support team in form of Helo and Dee, and William Adama knew exactly how much time Lee and Dee spent together. After all, what kind of commander would he be if he didn't know what was going on with two of his star officers, let alone his own son?
Admiral William Adama smiled to himself, enjoying the quiet and imagining the night to come. Perhaps he'd invite President Roslin over for the meal... she always brought some of that very enjoyable Ambrosia.
Sorry for the wait. Here's chapter two, I hope you all enjoyed it. More to come in the interim.