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Author: JPBryant
Characters:
Sharon/Helo
Rating: Mature, for descriptions of violence,
language and sexual situations.
Spoilers: Through 'A
Measure of Salvation", everything after that is AU.
Disclaimer:
Not mine.
Summary: Helo is forced to take drastic measures
to protect his family after a series of events aboard Galactica open
his eyes to the reality he and Sharon face. Set after "A Measure
of Salvation", it goes completely AU after that.
A/N:
The fourth of seventeen chapters to the story, I'll be posting them
as I finish them. Thanks to wintergreen126, jazmin22, and
honibrownhateza for beta'ing this story.
Chapter 4
A button on his sleeve dug into his forehead, but he made no effort to relieve the discomfort. Staring at the steel floor, knees pressed to his chest, head resting on his folded arms, he felt his body tremble. He couldn't remember Cottle leaving, but the silence in the room told him that the man was no longer there.
He hated the knowledge.
The knowledge wouldn't bring his daughter back; she was as dead as she had been before, left to die on New Caprica.
Helo lifted his head and looked across the room at Sharon, her expression unchanged. She stared blankly at the ceiling, her thoughts hidden completely from him. He had seen the look once before, and now Hera had died. Again. But this time it hadn't been fate or the Gods that taken their baby from them. It had been his own people.
She hadn't shed a tear as Cottle told the story, and neither had he; it had taken every ounce of his willpower to keep from killing the man. But while he had questioned the doctor, she had slid away, an iron wall lifting around her. Watching her now, he could see the wall closing, shutting him out along with everything else.
He couldn't do it again.
He couldn't go through Hera dying again. Losing Hera had destroyed him, but it was losing Sharon afterwards that had nearly driven him mad. It had taken months for her to even look at him again, never mind speak his name. And now he could feel it happening all over again.
Pushing himself off the floor, he paced across the room. Her eyes didn't move from the ceiling as he walked by her then back again. He resisted the urge to rip his locker off the wall and throw it to the floor.
She had blamed his people for Hera's death, and he had defended them. He told her they would never do it, and he said it because he believed it. But he had been wrong. They had killed her, in their own way; leaving her to die on that Gods forsaken rock.
They had sent him into space with a canister of paper ashes, and he had cried over them. He had never let Sharon see him cry over Hera, always keeping a brave face. But he had cried over those ashes.
He looked back at Sharon's, ashen and expressionless, and thought of the tiny child growing inside her. He had failed so many times to protect her, to protect his family. He had done everything he could and it wasn't enough.
-----
Helo's fist pounded against the hatch of the admiral's quarters, each blow hard enough to threaten the integrity of the bones in his hand. The sound of his effort echoed down the hallway, drawing stares from everyone who passed by. It had only take him a few minutes to make his way from their quarters to the admiral's, and though he hadn't wanted to leave Sharon's side, he didn't intend to stay long.
The admiral opened the door, dressed in his uniform despite the late hour. He gestured to for Helo to enter.
"Come in," the admiral said, showing no sign of surprise at Helo's arrival.
"That won't be necessary," Helo replied. "I only have only one question, sir."
"No." The admiral turned around and walked into his room. "We need to talk."
Helo didn't follow immediately. He didn't want to be around this man, he didn't want to hear this man's voice. All he wanted was one answer, but the admiral showed no signs of letting it end so easily. His anger growing, Helo stepped into the room.
"I wanted to come down and see her," the admiral said as he took a seat on his couch. "But I heard you were turning away visitors. How is she?"
The muscles in Helo's neck grew taught as he fought the urge to lash out.
"You don't get to ask that," Helo replied, trying to remain calm.
He had come to see the admiral as a father to Sharon, caring and protecting for her as if she were his own. But now he didn't recognize the man in front him. Sharon would survive the attack from earlier in the day; what was questionable, though, was whether she would recover from the wounds this man helped inflict.
The admiral removed his glasses, setting them down on the coffee table. "Cottle informed me that he would tell you," he said, keeping his eyes from Helo. "I didn't stop him."
"Do you expect credit for that?" Helo asked, shaking his head in disgust. "You could have told us yourself."
The admiral lifted a glass of water from the table, cradling it in both hands as he stared into it. "I didn't know, until very recently, what had happened to your daughter."
"But you knew," Helo stated flatly, giving no quarter.
The admiral didn't reply for a moment, shifting the glass from one hand to another.
"I knew," the old man said finally. "The president felt that-"
"I don't care," Helo said, cutting him short. He hadn't come for excuses. Excuses wouldn't bring his daughter back, nothing would. All he wanted now was an answer, so he could leave before he lost control. "I just need you to answer one question for me, sir."
"The president felt that secrecy was of the utmost importance," the admiral continued, looking up at Helo for the first time since he sat down. "I disagreed strongly, and argued on your behalf. But Laura Roslin is the president. The final decision was hers."
Helo turned his back on the admiral, barely able to keep his rage inside. He had spent a year as the admiral's XO, and in that time, he had come to respect this man like no one else in his life. Now all he could see was the man that had helped steal his daughter, destroy his family.
"I thought I knew you," Helo said quietly, closing his eyes. "Gods I trusted you."
The admiral rose from couch.
"Sometimes tough decisions have to be made, Captain." The admiral paused, setting his glass back down on the table. "Decisions that affect the lives of innocent people. You know that."
Fighting off the deluge of anger, Helo turned back to the face the old-man. The admiral's words had reminded Helo why he had come, and the innocent life he would do anything to protect.
"Would you do it again?" Helo asked, locking eyes with the admiral.
"I can't answer that," the admiral replied. But Helo persisted.
"If you could go back, and stop it from happening, would you?" He watched the admiral's eyes closely, needing to know. "Would you let the president take our child?"
"I didn't let her take your child." The admiral replied angrily. "And I don't deal in hypotheticals, Captain."
"This is my only question, Admiral," Helo shot back, desperate for the answer. "Tell me, and we'll never discuss this again."
The admiral's gaze yielded to Helo's and he turned away, shaking his head. "Captain..."
"I need to know," Helo insisted, his voice rising in volume. "Tell me."
The admiral stood in place, his eyes shifting from the floor as he though, then up to Helo as he answered the question.
"Would I put the needs of a single child and her parents before the needs of humanity?" The admiral shook his head. "No."
The answer knocked the wind from Helo, leaving him unable to breathe. He nodded his understanding as he tried to swallow past the knot in his throat.
The admiral had made his decision, and so had Helo.
"Thank you, sir," Helo said, his voice catching on the words as he saluted crisply.
"Captain, listen to me," the admiral said, turning away. "I'm not going to..."
The admiral stopped as Helo opened the hatch and let himself out of the room. Helo didn't care about what else the man had to say; he had heard what he needed to. Now he needed to be with his wife and unborn child.
He walked back to their quarters and opened the door to find her staring at the same point on the ceiling she had been looking at when he left. Her dry eyes were dull, her expression blank. He made his way quickly to the bed and sat down beside her, taking her hand in his.
He would not lose her again. He would not lose his child again.
"Sharon," he said, squeezing her hand. She didn't react, so he squeezed harder. "Sharon, look at me," he insisted, letting his anger into his voice.
She tried to turn away, closing her eyes, but he wouldn't let her.
"Look at me," he ordered loudly, unrelenting in his need for him to hear him. She turned slowly to face him, her empty eyes meeting his. He kept the fire in his voice, hoping it would reignite her own.
"We're leaving, Sharon. Do you hear me?" he asked forcefully. "We're leaving."
She blinked. And as the realization of his meaning reached her, he saw the spark he wanted, the tiniest fraction of emotion flickering behind her eyes. He watches as the fire took light, and squeezed her hand again, to let her know it was true.
"You, and me, and our baby….we're leaving," he said. She nodded slowly as he spoke, a flood of emotions returning to her face. He mirrored her, nodding back. "We're going home, Sharon."
