A/N : thanks muchly for the reviews. This is definitely AU, as I am sure you are finding out :) There are some big changes between this and canon, but all will be explained. Happy Reading


19 Years Earlier - Galactica

Water dripping down her arms, Kara wiped her face off and looked at her reflection in the mirror. She grimaced, turned the faucet off and glared into the sink for a moment. She looked back up, viewing her features, trying not to be upset by what she saw. She looked strained, exhausted, and if more the one person had asked if she was mainlining stims….

But, no… the bruise like shadows beneath her eyes were caused by lack of sleep, and according to Cottle, stress. She snorted. Stress was a nice word for it.

Of course, admitting that she was panicked out of her mind by the situation she had found herself in, yea that was never going to happen.

She just couldn't get comfortable on her rack. Sleeping on her back made her feel like there was a solid weight restraining her, which caused the nightmares to start. The new expanding curve of her lower abdomen made sleeping on her front impossible. And pilot's racks on a Battlestar were not designed to sleep on your side comfortably; the mattress had virtually no padding so you might as well sleep on the deck.

She snickered silently, the designers more than likely figured pilots would only be in their racks long enough to pass out between flights. No one designed the warships for long term habitation. Somehow surviving Colony-wide genocide had never been a factor on designing the living quarters.

She reached up and ruffled her fringe, and tucked her growing hair behind her ears. Having the hair shading her eyes made her look a little bit less like the walking dead. Now if only there was an easy a cure for feeling like it.

During her last clandestine appointment, Doc Cottle had given her quite the lecture on sleep and the necessity of it. She couldn't decide what was more bizarre, his new friendliness, or his lack of cigarette when she was around. His attitude, however, was still as caustic as ever.

He had flat out told her by not sleeping, she was endangering her child and he wondered if she was doing it on purpose. Kara glared at her reflection, remembering that comment. Size of a bean or not, the sheer force of what she felt for this tiny life blew her away, and left her shaking.

Kara's reply to his theory was explicit, painful, and surely illegal on at least 9 Colonies. Seeing the anger and strength of her denial, the Doc had cracked a smile, and said "Good." And then he refused to explain why he had baited her.

The hatch for the head creaked open to her left and Kat and Hotdog came into the head. Kara sighed to herself, careful to stay firmly in front of the sink. While in full uniform or flight-suit, it was impossible to tell there was any change to her. However, in double-tanks and regulation sweats, the delicate curve was hugely noticeable on her slender frame.

"Captain." Hotdog tossed her a lazy salute with two fingers as he went into the first shower stall he found. The water started immediately, and his clothes came sailing over the now closed curtain.

Kat looked at the CAG, several emotions flitting through her eyes before she finally said, "Starbuck." And then went to find a shower on the opposite side of the head from Hotdog.

Kara sighed slightly, relaxing the tension in her shoulders. She had purposely waited until everyone else had gone to the rec room or their racks so she could avoid company. Figures these two would impinge on her privacy.

She waited for a moment as the water ran, and pulled her shoulder-length hair into a pony-tail. Grabbing her toiletries, she walked through the hatch quickly, not noticing her two pilots had taken advantage of her leaving and were now sharing a shower stall.


Lee raised his hands over his head, stretching the sore muscles in his shoulders. The puckered scar of his bullet wound was strained, but wasn't causing any tearing pain. That was a blessing at least. When the bullet had hit him, he was alternately petrified he would never fly again, and almost relieved that he had an excuse to avoid the cockpit.

Now there was a hell of a conundrum.

He reached over and grasped the barbell, slowly starting the arm curl reps, counting as he exhaled. The physical therapy prescribed by Cottle had been extremely in-depth, but Lee had avoided doing most of it. Mainly because the gym had always seemed like "her" place.

He grimaced, and started doing his reps a little faster.

There was the center of all of his problems. Kara Thrace.

Lee grunted as he felt a burning sensation in his shoulders. Putting the barbells down for a moment he stared at the wall. It always came down to her, no didn't it? Whether it was falling for his brother's fiancé, or the more current issues, she had this way of taking his normal world and frakking it beyond recognition.

Against his will, his mind wandered back to Colonial Night. The attempt of an assassination had put him on a razor's edge, and when he had gotten to the reception, it felt as though his mind had kicked in the afterburners. Everything was vivid, and intense, and he had no idea which end was up.

And then he had seen her. Kara… Starbuck… standing in absolute glory near the bar on Cloud 9. Her trim form adorned in a blue dress, one that matched the Caprican sky, was a vision. Lee had often wondered if Kara ever dressed up fancy-like.

And his answer to that never spoken question had answered him like a fist to the gut. She was beautiful. And strong, and as sexy as all hell.

As these thoughts ran rampant through his brain, he noticed her tiny, half smile as she watched him stare at her. Scrambling to come up with something to say, the only he could come up with was a comment about her bum knee.

Her laughter assuaged part of his embarrassment. Because who really wants their pickup line to sound like it came from a frog. Then again, with as much desire that was strangling him at that particular moment, perhaps there was a reason his voice was guttural.

The moments that followed after that were the kind that flitted across his mind a thousand times a day. The dancing, her refusing to relinquish his arms when newly elected Vice-President Baltar wanted a turn. Her incandescent smile as she moved her body along his, only the crowd keeping them within the bounds of propriety.

The whispered conversation, flight back to Galactica, and the night spent with her. Lee could feel his blood begin to pulse as he thought of that night. A night when it was simply them, no Apollo, no Starbuck. The sublime feeling of rightness and belonging…

Abruptly standing, Lee stalked over to the sparring bag, and began to throw punches at him, trapped in his memories… Kara sneaking away in the morning, him trying to find her, and then… her jumping away to Caprica.

And that was the rub now wasn't it.

They had shared an absolutely frakking amazing night, one that left him breathless just by remembering it… and yet she had still possessed the mental capacity to fulfill a harebrained mission formulated by Laura Roslin.

Yes, he had been worried. Yes, he had been thrilled when she returned. Hell, he had even kissed her in front of everyone on the Astral Queen. And those feelings of relief had lasted through finding the Tomb.

But then, something changed. His feeling of betrayal had taken over everything, in a way his pride was insulted, and before he could get a handle on anything, Battlestar Pegasus had come sailing out of nowhere.

No sooner had Lee started to try and talk to her, they had been ripped apart by Admiral Cain. And then he had just become angry, and bitter.

Anastasia Dualla had entered his orbit, and in a way, some dark part of him felt that this was just punishment for Kara. She had after all abandoned him, she deserved some pain. And Dee was very good for his ego.

Lee stopped moving, placing his hands on the top of the bag, breathing hard. And there was the problem with the whole mess. He could do no wrong as far as the Comm Officer was concerned. She was always telling him he was perfect. That was slowly beginning to drive Lee mad.

He wanted someone to scream at him, to pick at him, to make him fight for everything he accomplished. He wanted someone who could match him. And he had pushed her away.

Snorting, he shoved away from the bag. He had pulled a Starbuck. And Lee had this sinking feeling he would never get through to her.

Then there was the whole fact that she had shot him. Lee couldn't decide how he felt about that, to be honest. He wasn't angry, he wasn't really anything. He had heard she had a matching bullet hole to his compliments of the terrorists in the bar that night.

He grabbed his towel and sweat-top, walking from the gym. Continuing much longer would cause harm to his injury, this he knew. But the real reason he left the gym was much more underhanded. Dee got off shift in ten minutes and would coming to the gym looking for him. He planned to not be there for that.