Live to Regret – Chapter 3
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A/N: Again, the amount of reviews and your insights are gratifying. Thanks so much.
I don't think anyone has correctly guessed where exactly this is heading, so I hope you'll hang on for the ride – it's gonna get bumpy!
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Begrudgingly, Kara is on her feet, slowly schlepping her way through Life Station. It was Cottle's idea, not her own, to get out of bed and get her blood flowing. Apparently, as long as she can stay upright for at least twenty minutes, he'll spring her. That thought alone is all the impetus she needs.
However, she's moving slow, far too slow for her own liking. Kara is used to outflying, outrunning, outbetting and outplaying just about every around her. At the moment, a slow moving octogenarian could overtake her.
Grimacing as a particularly sharp twinge of pain tweaks her hip, Kara pauses, leaning her hand against the nearby bulkhead. As she takes in a breath and lets it out slowly, she makes out the sound of cooing and the occasional whimper. Closing her eyes for a moment, Kara steels herself for the scene she knows she'll see and then slowly peeks around the corner.
Frak – the nursery.
As a rule, battlestars don't have a very large complement of children, but apparently the kids Cottle had mentioned a few days ago are still underfoot because the area looks overrun with toys, clothing and small, squealing, messy, smelly humans. Kids.
Two nurses Kara vaguely recognizes enter the opposite end of the corridor and Kara pulls her head back. She doesn't want anyone to know why she can't make herself move from the small area of Life Station teeming with the only hope the Fleet has left. The only hope Kara has left, now that she's miscarried a half-breed.
"Do you really think it's his though? I mean, he doesn't seem the type."
The nurses' voices float to Kara and she pretends not to listen, but with little else to do, but catch her breath and not think about what landed her in sick bay in the first place, she latches onto this newest tidbit of gossip.
"Well, she's certainly beautiful enough. Brown eyes, not blue, but that doesn't mean anything."
"The eyes could be red – any baby with Adama genes is gonna be a looker."
One of the nurses giggles and the other joins her and then Kara hears the unmistakable sound of a child babbling. The nonsense words inexplicably tear at Kara's heart. Risking detection, Kara peers around the corner and watches as the nurse cradles a blonde haired child with waving fists to her shoulder. The little one is talking a blue streak, nothing recognizable, but her legs are kicking and her arms are flailing and Kara has the distinct impression that she just wants some undivided attention.
As the women and the baby disappear inside a curtained off area, Kara turns quickly and heads as fast as she can to her own room. Once there she sinks on the edge of her bed, barely registering the pain in her abdomen as the nurses' conversation replays in her head. Any baby with Adama genes …
The thought is too unbelievable, too incredulous, but then Kara remembers that this is her life she's talking about and nothing is impossible. Suddenly, hope and fear flair in her heart and she closes her eyes. Pressing her fist to her mouth to stifle her cry of surprise, she can barely order her thoughts. Slowly, she sinks back against the pillows, wrapping herself into the tightest ball she can manage. As her body finally gives in to sleep, she wonders if maybe this time the Gods have finally answered one of her prayers.
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"It's a good family, right?"
"Miss Thrace." Kara has hated social workers since she was a kid. No matter how many officials the school had called in, not one of them had been able to get Kara away from her abusive mother. Their incompetence has bred Kara's dislike. And this woman before her isn't erasing the stereotype. "You know that we screen all of our families to ensure that every child we place will be cared for in a loving environment."
"I don't want the company line, Miss Andrews," Kara hisses, frowning. "I want the truth. My kid deserves a good family, with a mom and dad who will love it more than their own lives."
Miss Andrews holds her tongue, eyeing Kara warily. Kara returns the gaze, unaffected. This lady would have to try a hell of a lot harder to intimidate her.
"Can I ask again why you've decided on adoption?"
Kara's heart speeds up and she feels a flutter in her stomach. Smoothing a hand over the growing bump that is her and Zak's child, she shrugs, pretending that she doesn't care. "I told you, I'm a Viper pilot. Being a mom isn't exactly part of the job."
"And the child's father-"
"Is dead, so I don't really think he has a say, do you?" Kara smirks as the other woman blinks rapidly a few times.
"I'm not trying to antagonize you, Miss Thrace." Kara snorts. "However, it's been my experience that someone so concerned with her child's welfare isn't quite convinced that adoption is the answer."
Sighing heavily, Kara leans back in her seat, her hand still rubbing absently across her stomach. She wishes this wasn't the answer. There has never been a part of Kara's life she's wanted to relive so badly as the past two months. She would go back in time in a heartbeat if it meant she could save Zak. If it meant he could be alive and they could be married and she could keep his baby when it's born in four months.
But he isn't and they aren't and she can't, so the point is moot.
"Adoption is the only option, Miss Andrews." Kara's face is again a mask of indifference and she watches the social worker visibly flinch at her cool tone. "I'm reporting to the Battlestar Galactica in six months. And I can't bring a baby along."
"You could resign-" One glare from Kara stops the woman mid-sentence and they finish the rest of their meeting in an almost companionable silence.
It isn't until Kara holds the pen poised above the adoption paperwork that she feels a wave of guilt and grief so potent she fears she might be sick. Hold it together, Starbuck. You have to do this.
Ignoring the tremor in her hand, Kara forces herself to sign, thrusting the papers and the pen back at the social worker before practically bolting from the room. She has no idea where she'll go and it isn't until she finds herself at Zak's grave that she knew this was where she was heading all along.
"I'm so sorry," she murmurs, dropping to her knees in front of his headstone. "I can't do it without you, Zak. You know that. I don't deserve to raise this child, not after I killed you."
There is no answer and Kara isn't surprised. She knows Zak would loathe her decision. He wanted to be a father, but Kara never wanted to be a mother, and she most certainly did not want to be a mother without him by her side.
You're a worthless piece of trash.
Kara shivers as her mother's words ring through her head. Besides, she could never be a parent; Socrata Thrace had made sure of that. She had beaten Kara down until she no longer had an identity, broken her spirit years ago, forcing Kara to rebuild herself one piece at a time.
With Zak gone some of those pieces have already gone missing. Her culpability in his death only makes it worse. She can't be responsible for his only offspring; she can't be reminded every day of his presence and subsequent absence in her life.
It's bad enough she'll be forced to confront his father. But when a commander like Bill Adama offers a young lieutenant a post on his battlestar, Kara could not say no. Besides, maybe if she had that constant reminder of her stupidity, she might start to make amends. Surely the Gods would honor her attempt at atonement in the afterlife.
"You shouldn't give it away, Kara."
The voice jolts Kara from the memory and she turns, watching her dreamscape blur to a deep gray. Squinting, she cannot make out the person, only his form and she rises slowly, noting that she is no longer pregnant.
"Haven't you abandoned enough people?" The shadow steps forward and catches a dim flash of light. Kara gasps.
"I didn't – I didn't abandon you." Kara tries to approach Sam, but her feet won't move and she's stuck just out of reach. "I'm coming back."
"No you're not. You let Zak die, you abandoned your child and you left me behind. It's what you do, Kara. You don't commit. You run."
"No." She feels her eyes welling with tears and she can't stop the torrent as it runs down her cheeks. "Sam, please."
"Bye, Kara. Thanks for nothing."
"No!"
This time it's the Old Man who is within hearing range of her cry and like his son of only a day ago, he comes charging into the room at the first sound of her distress. Cottle follows, checking Kara's vitals as Bill moves to her side.
She's already awake by the time he meets her eyes and the pained look on her face causes his own heart to thud painfully against his ribcage. Reaching out a tentative hand, he strokes her hair back and whispers, "What'd you hear, Starbuck?"
Swallowing hard, Kara takes a few deep breaths, futilely wiping at her eyes. Sam's disappointment still haunts her and Kara can barely speak around the lump in her throat. "Nothing but …" Finishing the sentence proves impossible. "Just nothing."
Bill's eyes fall closed as he murmurs a long forgotten pray to the Gods. Cottle's miracle medicine has begun to work once more and Kara is already in and out of consciousness. Pressing a kiss to her forehead, Bill tells her he'll be back, before stepping just outside with the doctor.
"What's wrong with her?"
"She's been through a highly traumatic event, Commander." For once, Cottle isn't smoking and Bill is unaccustomed to getting a clear look in his eyes while he delivers a prognosis. "Her injuries notwithstanding, Lieutenant Thrace has just returned from devastated world where she was captured by the enemy and almost didn't survive. I don't have a precedent for that type of post-traumatic stress."
Bill wishes the news were better. He hates to see Kara so distraught. It's similar to another time, after Zak's death, when he could barely get her to string more than a few sentences together. Watching Kara, a woman normally so full of life and energy simply going through the motions makes his heart hurt.
"But she will recover?"
"Physically, most definitely." Cottle's eyes glance past Bill's shoulder and he releases a heavy sigh that telegraphs how old he is. "Mentally, I can't promise you anything, Commander. It's no secret that Starbuck is as stubborn as they come and a helluva fighter, but what she's experienced – this might be harder than anything she's ever dealt with before."
"What happened?"
Both men glance up in surprise at the sound of Lee's breathless voice. Neither had called him to Lifestation. "Nothing, son, she's fine. Just another nightmare."
Frowning, Lee glances from his father to the doctor. "May I see her?"
Nodding, Cottle motions him towards the room. "She's going to be falling to sleep pretty soon. I gave her another sedative; she needs rest."
"I won't disturb her," he murmurs before ducking past them both and heading to Kara's side.
Cottle and Adama's eyes follow the young man. "Something I should know, Commander?"
Startled slightly by the question, Bill shakes his head. "They've always been close."
Cocking an eyebrow, Cottle finally reaches for his cigarettes, shaking one out of the pack and lighting it. "Uh huh."
As he takes his first drag, Bill lowers his voice and asks, "Do you have the final test results back yet?" He feels guilty for letting anything else supplant his concern for Kara, but even an Old Man gets curious.
Cottle shakes his head. "No, I told you they won't be back for another day." He takes another long pull on the cigarette. "But there isn't much it can tell us that we don't already know. That child's father is an Adama."
Again Bill finds the notion of a long lost grandchild unbelievable. Lee would never have been so irresponsible; his eldest is far too by the book. "It doesn't make sense."
"And there's a good chance it won't, regardless of what those results are."
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"How is she?"
Lee rubs his hands over his face, hoping it might sharpen his senses. Operating on no sleep makes focusing on just about anything almost impossible. "She was sleeping when I left. It took another dose of the sedative to put her under."
Bill nods grimly as he eyes his son closely. "You need to get some rest, son."
"Can't." Lee reaches for the towel on the edge of the sink, chucking it into the bin as he heads back to his office. "I've got CAP in about an hour."
"No, you don't."
Pausing, Lee turns to face his father, confusion on his features. "I think I know my schedule."
"I'm pulling rank, Lee." Bill would laugh at his son's dumbfounded expression if he wasn't so worried about him. "You need to sleep. Plus, the next time Kara wakes up, I don't want her to be alone."
Concern replaces his puzzlement. "What's happened?"
"Cottle told me she's starting to get violent. Those dreams she's having aren't getting any better." The weight of his worry stoops the commander's shoulders and Lee wonders if maybe his father really is an Old Man – he's never considered him one before. "I don't want her on her own; not if we can help it."
That's the last thing Lee wants too, which of course, his father knew. "I'll be there."
Smiling tightly, Bill claps a strong hand to his shoulder. "I know. But not before you get some serious quality time with your rack." Turning and gently pushing him towards the couch across the way, he relates, "Cottle is under strict orders to send you packing if you show up in Lifestation before oh-eight hundred."
Lee sighs heavily, glancing to the clock as his weary body falls onto the sofa. A whole six hours of rest – it feels like a gift. One he'd willingly take if he wasn't so worried about Kara. "Yes sir."
As Lee settles Bill lingers for a moment, wondering when his son grew into a man. He most certainly wasn't there to witness the full transition, but it is moments like these, when Lee is Captain, friend and son that he knows his eldest boy is fully grown. "Get some rest."
Lee's arm is thrown over his eyes and he only gives a small grunt of acknowledgement. As the hatch opens, he calls quietly, "Do you know what happened?"
Bill pauses in the doorway, head hanging low. "No. Kara won't tell me and Cottle can't."
Lee swallows hard and nods before rolling onto his side and trying to get comfortable. He hears the hatch shut and releases another sigh. Despite the lure of uninterrupted sleep he finds his thoughts full of Kara and her ordeal and sleep is a long time coming.
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Kara wakes with a jolt, her face and hair damp with sweat, her pulse racing from a dream that for once she can't remember. Gasping for air, she wills her heart rate to slow. She can barely stand the dreams. They are painful to a level that Kara has seldom faced in the past few years. Some are of Zak when he was alive and well and in love with her. Others are of Anders and the fact that she left him behind. Most center on her baby, Zak's child whom she gave up for adoption because she was too broken to care for another human being.
She once again curses the Cylons. It's their fault she's haunted by dreams of her baby – and the baby's father. It is their meddling on Caprica that has brought all of these memories roaring to the surface. Memories and emotions she has spent years bottling deep inside; but even the most stalwart and strong has a limit.
Kara has begun to fear in the past few days that she may have finally reached hers.
The idea of lying in a hospital bed for another moment causes more anxiety to well in her gut. Forcing herself to a sitting position, Kara ignores the twinge of pain in her lower body and manages to connect her feet with the cold decking. It is the middle of the night once again and she knows she can move about undetected. With barely a thought as to where she may go, Kara begins to walk.
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Despite his father's warning, Lee walks into Lifestation at a little past oh-seven hundred. He'd been hard-pressed to fall asleep and had an even harder time staying that way. His worry for Kara is all-consuming. The thought of her waking alone after one of those horrific nightmares is enough to send a shiver down his spine.
If he has anything to say about, Kara will never be alone again.
His cheeks flush at the thought. Why he thinks he'll have any say in who Kara spends time with is beyond Lee. She wasn't alone on Caprica; Helo's hinting had answered that question fairly fast. But unlike the vice president, when Kara had sought comfort on the destroyed planet, he hadn't been there for her. Lee has convinced himself in the time she was gone and since she's been back that in his haste not to ruin their friendship, he had effectively pushed Kara towards someone else. Way to go, Apollo.
If she didn't know he was an option, than of course she wouldn't seek him out. Lee knew all he had to do was convince her he was here, he was staying and he was in love with her.
He stops mid-stride, the thought invading all of his higher functions, including motor skills. Love? Really? The flush on his cheeks dissipates quickly. Yes, love, that's exactly what it is. Lee Adama loves Kara Thrace. Is it really the end of the worlds?
Nope, that's already happened.
Feeling lighter and more assured than he has for quite some time, Lee all but skips to Kara's curtained room. Pulling back the fabric, he stops at the empty bed. She hasn't been discharged; his father and Cottle would have told him. He scans the small area intently, as if a full grown woman could disappear right in front of him. Doing his best not to panic, he sets off in search of her.
It's still early on the day shift and so there are only a few nurses milling about. Lee doesn't stop to ask them; he doesn't want to cause a scene. Besides knowing Kara she's stubbornly decided to walk herself to the bathroom or some nonsense and simply found it to be slow going.
Turning a corner, Lee stops abruptly, relieved to see Kara and simultaneously more concerned than before. Seeing her from afar he realizes she's grown thin in their time apart; skinny to the point of frail. The hospital gown hangs off her shoulders and she's pale. Paler than he can remember making it difficult to separate her skin from the fabric she wears.
He approaches slowly as if she's a frightened animal he might startle away. She is leaning against the nearest wall, her left hand pressed lightly to the clear viewing window in front of her. Her eyes are transfixed on the scene within and Lee takes a second to view it for himself, before turning to face her.
He's never noticed Kara's obsession with babies before, but at the moment she appears riveted.
"Kara. What are you doing?"
She doesn't acknowledge him, doesn't even turn to face him. She simply continues to stare. Lee takes a few steps closer and then pauses. Her position is tenuous, if not physically than mentally. Lee feels as if he can see each crack in her vaunted Starbuck armor just by looking at her – her skin is far too transparent.
"They're so small."
Her voice holds none of its usual spark and Lee swallows past the lump in his throat. One of her fingers strokes the glass lightly and she offers one of the residents in the nursery beyond the barest hint of a smile.
Lee's anxiety spikes. "Kara, are you all right?"
"I can't believe how tiny they are." She still hasn't looked at him, but Lee is close enough to touch her. He reaches out a tentative hand and rests it to her shoulder. He can trace the outline of her shoulder blade through the thin fabric of the gown.
Kara doesn't flinch away from him and Lee takes it as a sign of acceptance. Stepping a bit closer, he's now standing right at her side, their arms almost touching, but not. He feels better knowing he's close.
"Zak wanted to be a father. Did he tell you that?"
The words startle him as does the mention of his brother's name. He knows she's been dreaming about him. He's heard her anguished pleas for Zak to come back. Lee has pretended he doesn't mind, feigned indifference, but the fact is it kills him when she wishes for Zak to be with her. Irrationally he views it as a rejection, a reminder that he's only in her life by default. She'd be with Zak if he hadn't died and Lee would be watching her from a distance.
Unsure of what to say, his eyes follow her gaze through the glass. There are eight babies on the other side and three toddlers. While the babies each lie in a small, plastic crib, the toddlers are lying on miniature sized cots. Two are asleep while the third, a little girl with blonde curls, lays on her side, thumb in her mouth and a worn baby blanket under her chin. Her eyes are big and open and she stares at the room and the people within but doesn't make a sound.
Remembering his voice, Lee blinks a few times to right his vision and realizes Kara has asked him a question. "No," he says hoarsely. "No, Zak never told me that."
"He did." Kara smiles again, a sad smile that Lee has seen far too often. "I never wanted to be a mother. I didn't exactly have the best role model."
"Kara, you are not your mother." Lee is sure of very little in the universe, except maybe that.
"That's what Zak used to say." She sighs heavily and then drops her forehead to rest against the glass. "He almost made me believe him."
She falls silent again and Lee feels his muscles tense under the strain of not pushing her. He wants to demand answers, but knows he can't. Even at her best moments, Starbuck doesn't willingly reveal her weaknesses. Of course, Kara is another matter entirely, but since the worlds ended Lee has seen far more of Starbuck than her fairer alter ego.
"Kara, what happened?" Her head tilts towards him at his question, eyes unfocused as they stare at a far off point. "What happened on Caprica?" he prompts.
For a moment he thinks she may answer, but too swiftly her eyes drift back into the nursery. "I could never subject a child to what I went through." Under his hand, Lee feels her body shudder.
He takes the smallest step forward, his side connecting with hers. "Kara, you wouldn't-"
She continues as if she can't hear him. "But then I thought, maybe with Zak as my kid's dad, we'd all be okay."
Lee knows they would have been. Zak would have been an amazing father. "Kara, let's get you back to bed. You shouldn't be on your feet this long." His motives aren't entirely pure – he wants to bring an end to this uncomfortable discussion almost as much as he's worried she's going to collapse into his arms.
She stares for another interminably long minute at the children and then slowly turns to face him. Her hollowed out cheeks and sunken eyes pierce his heart as he realizes just how far she's fallen. He should have been there – he should never have allowed it to get to this point. He has failed his best friend in a fundamental way and the weight of that guilt chokes him.
With a heavy sigh that deflates her entire body, she whispers, "I'm so tired, Lee."
Stepping closer, he cradles her cheeks in his hands, brushing a light kiss to her forehead. "I know, Kara."
The physical connection seems to melt a barrier between them and Kara almost falls against his chest. Her forehead pressed against his shoulder, she pulls her arms in tight before her while Lee's encircle her, enveloping her in his strength and his warmth. She sighs again. "I'm so tired."
He pulls her tighter, unwilling to let Kara see how much her pain has affected him. "It'll be okay." His hands are rubbing up and down her sides, doing their best to warm her and reassure her. Pressing another kiss into her hair, he squeezes her tighter.
She's quiet for several moments and Lee just keeps holding on. He won't let go – not again – not even if she does. Her body continues to quake with the force of her emotions and finally a sob she can't contain breaks free. "I'm sorry, Lee," she moans, turning her face into his chest. "I'm so sorry."
"It's all right, I'm here. It's okay." He has nothing more profound to say and so Lee only whispers nonsense to her and holds tight. Foot traffic has picked up and Lee begins to grow wary of the amount of attention they're receiving. He knows how uncomfortable Kara would be with it as well and so he simply adjusts his hold on her and swings her into his arms.
She fits against him so perfectly and he relishes the contact. Her arms are wound tight around his neck and her tear-stained face is pressed into the warm skin of his shoulder.
Once back in her room, Lee gently places her on the bed. "Come on, Kara. Let's get you under the covers."
He tries, but she won't let go and Lee doesn't get very far. "Stay," she breathes and Lee can't say no. He doesn't want to.
It takes a few moments, but soon they are both stretched out on the small bed wrapped around each other tightly. His hand continues to stroke lightly down her back and Kara sighs. "I'm sorry, Lee. I never should have left. I never should have-"
"Kara." He breathes her name like a prayer before brushing his lips to her forehead. "You don't have to be sorry. I just want you to get better. Let me help."
"I don't know how," she whispers, her breath catching slightly. In a roundabout way she's just admitted to being fallible and that does not sit well.
"We'll figure it out, just get some rest." He doesn't have all the answers either, but he knows that lying with her in his arms is definitely a step in the right direction.
"There are things I should tell you," she murmurs, wondering how she could be tired again. But she is and the added presence of Lee's warmth only makes sleep more appealing. "I want you to know."
"It'll keep, Kara. Sleep now."
She mumbles something else he can't make out and then slowly drifts off, snuggling herself more securely against him before sleep finally claims her.
Once her breathing evens out, Lee lets out a heavy sigh, his lips ghosting across her forehead once more. His offer to help was a serious one, but Lee fears he may not be enough to see Kara through whatever trauma she's so obviously suffered. It's not about you, Apollo, he scolds himself, squeezing her to him a bit tighter. It's about her. Focus on her.
Focus on Kara – Lee could do that.
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When Lee awakes Kara is still asleep and still wrapped tightly around him. With a small smile he closes his eyes and basks in the feeling of her soft body pressed so intimately against him. His imaginings have never quite done her justice.
"Lee?"
Stifling a groan of annoyance at the interruption, he opens his eyes to find his father studying him intently. His expression is unreadable and Lee wonders why he would appear so guarded, here, in front of his son and surrogate daughter. Typically, Commander Adama saves the really stalwart expressions for CIC.
He makes no move to get up. "What is it, dad?"
"We have to talk." It's obvious by his tone it's not a request.
Glancing to Kara's peaceful face, Lee feels a small smile tug at his lips. "I don't want to leave her." He honestly doesn't know if he can.
"Now, Lee."
Definitely not a request. Carefully, Lee extracts himself from Kara standing slowly and adjusting his clothes. Before following his father out of the curtained area, he leans down and presses a kiss to her forehead and then arranges the blankets to be sure she'll be warm. With a lingering look, he joins his father.
"What?"
Adama's face is hard and Lee recognizes the look from years of scolding and punishments. It always seemed that whenever their father was planetside, Zak and Lee were on the receiving end of his disapproval.
"We have the test results."
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