I Shall Believe
by Chione
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Sam didn't know what it was that drew him back to Galactica, but that's where he found himself. A song playing in his head, or maybe his bones, led him through the corridors, growing louder in his ears and thrumming along with his heart. Whether he was going crazy or not, he couldn't so much as slow his pace, and when he finally arrived, he already knew who would be waiting for him.
Saul, Tory, and Tyrol stood in the center of the room.
The music stopped.
Two girls make their way through a tall, vibrant grass as tall as the smallest girl, the green of the land, the blue of the sky blinding. Arm in arm, the girls grin and giggle as the younger—short and brunette, hair cropped short around her face which is round and full and red with youth—stumbles every so often on the downward incline.
The older one holds a long stick in her free hand, using it to balance as she steps, her curls bouncing in the sun and shining.
In the distance, a flock of pink birds unlike any before seen takes to flight.
The four cylons saw each other come out of the vision.
Sam put his hand to his head and squeezed his eyes shut against the onslaught of possibilities ahead of them.
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When Lee returned to his quarters—how much longer they'd be his seeing as his marriage was over and so was his career in the military—his father was waiting for him, seated at the small table. He'd helped himself to Lee's bookshelf, and was browsing through one of his father's law books.
"I wasn't aware an admiral's stars allowed for breaking and entering."
"The hatch was unlocked. I needed to talk to you, and I knew you wouldn't respond to a summons." Bill explained, rising to his feet and setting the book down, gently.
"Now's really not a good time, dad." Not when he planned to approach Kara before the night shift, before he lost his nerve. Not when the military, his career, was the last of his concerns.
"I know you're upset with Kara, and with me," he rounded the desk to stand face to face with his son, "but that's no reason to let your life fall apart. Your marriage, your career—"
"Why would I be upset with Kara?"
"I'm not blind, Lee. You have feelings of some sort for her and it's understandable her pregnancy might have—"
"I'm the father, dad. Kara and I had an affair months ago, and I'm the father." Lee stepped around his father, throwing his jacket down on the bed and jerking at his tie until it came loose. "Is that what you wanted to know? My life fell apart the day the cylons came back. And I'm sorry if you're disappointed in me, dad, I guess know you know how I've felt about you all my life."
The Admiral's face had gone hard during Lee's speech. His eyes narrowed, and chin clenched tight. Instead of responding, not taking his eyes off Lee until the very last second, he turned slowly, restraint making him tense, and walked out the door.
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She got back to her rack and flung herself on the mattress, ignoring the usual looks from other pilots in the room. They'd clear out shortly enough. That was one thing should wouldn't mind about the pregnancy: priority for private quarters. Even without the pregnancy, she'd be drawing attention for something or other. Maybe it was the hormones or maybe she was just getting old, but she was sick of it.
Didn't help that she knew exactly how much everyone had bet on who the father was. Everyone figured they'd either find out eventually when he came forward, or when the child came out looking like someone.
And most of them already believed it was Lee. That or Baltar. Or Helo. Some speculated it was actually Sam's, and others wondered if it was Ladykiller's. More outlandish guesses included Tigh, the Admiral, Hot Dog, and Doc Cottle.
The file of adoption applicants sat on the bed beside her, unopened. There was something stopping her from flipping through it, and looking too closely at what that might be scared her more than she'd admit.
When the room finally cleared out, she stood up, reaching in her locker for a set of clean tanks to put on. It's not that she wouldn't change clothes in front of others anymore, but the stares at her breasts, her hips, her obvious growth earned was a little more than she liked to deal with. Especially after her meeting with the Admiral.
"Kara. We need to talk."
Lee's voice startled her from behind just as she'd slipped the new tanks over her head. Standing in the hatchway, he had a perfect view of her profile as she slide them down the rest of the way, stretching the fabric to fit over her extra weight.
This she did not need right now.
"What's there to talk about, Lee? I think we've already said all we need to say," she said, pointed looking further into her locker.
"There's plenty more to say. This isn't about us anymore, Kara, and we need to discuss this." He stepped into the room, closing the hatch and spinning the lock behind him.
She pursed her lips, not saying anything.
"Will you at least look at me, Kara?" He moved in closer, cornering her between the door of her locker and its interior.
Turning so they stood boot to boot, she met his gaze and glared. (She pushed away the thought that if she arched her back just a bit, her stomach would brush up against his shirt.) "It's taken you a month to decide you had a part in this?"
"And how long did it take you to go to Cottle after you suspected you were pregnant?" he shot back.
"What do you want from me, Lee? We don't get the bright, shiny futures with rugrats, remember? You and me?" She gestured between them. "We're not cut out to be parents. And what about Dee? Is she ready to play stepmother to my kid? Somehow, I don't think so."
"Dee and I are getting a divorce." His voice was much quieter, inaudible but for their proximity. "I'm not the man she thought she was marrying."
"There's a lot of that going around," she said in the same tone, remembering the slump of Sam's shoulders when he left and the scoff in his voice that hadn't been there when they'd met.
Silence reigned after that, both finding their eyes drawn down to the obvious evidence of what they'd done. Lee took several steps back, finding the center table with the back of his legs and sitting, never removing his stare from her abdomen.
Her hands rose to frame the bump, fingers splaying across the skin and the cloth of the tanks. She might not always trust her eyes but the tangible growth beneath her palms was undeniable. And sometimes in the quiet of the bunkroom when everyone was asleep or on CAP, she imagined she could hear the rapid pumping of a tiny, all-too-real heart inside of her, a clock ticking down to—what?
Gaeta's voice carried through the speakers. "Prepare to jump."
Kara closed her locker, leaning back against it and letting her eyes fall shut. Jumping had never bothered her before, but something about it upset her newly-sensitive stomach.
"You okay?" Lee asked, rising to his feet and reaching for her arm.
The world stretched thin, her stomach jerked, clenched, and did a few turns before the world righted itself. She dropped her head back against the locker, swallowing hard.
"I'm fine," she said, still not opening her eyes, "You try—"
An explosion rocked the ship. Lee fell forward, his hand slamming into the metal beside her head with a bang as he braced himself from smashing her. Another impact sent the chairs scooting across the floor, Kara looked up, catching Lee's eyes.
"Cylons," they said in unison.
Lee straightened up, pivoting around to race for the hanger, only to stop mid-stride. He glanced back at her, the realization that he no longer had a place in the battle. He no longer had his wings.
"Go," she told him, though her fingers gripped the fabric of her tanks near to ripping. "We don't have enough pilots as it is."
The ship jolted beneath her feet once more, tremors running through the bolts and metal platting. Lee was gone when she looked up.
It took all her resolve—and the knowledge that no flight suit would fit—to keep her from following. To not be able to fly CAP, that was one thing. To be sidelined in a fight? That was harder.
Instead of the hanger, she headed to CIC. She needed to know the situation. If there was something she could do, she'd do it. Pregnant or not, she wasn't going to sit around doing nothing.
The corridors were hard to navigate with crew rushing in all directions, pilots having priority, others ducking out of the way as they passed. Kara kept one hand touching the wall as she half-walked, half-jogged through the halls, dropping a smirk at each soldier who stumbled when the ship took another hit. She'd never had a hard time getting around in the midst of chaotic battles, and that wasn't going to change, no matter how far her stomach stuck out and how heavy a child sat on her hips.
The hatch to CIC opened as she neared, a handful of marines leaving. She slipped in, eyes drawn immediately toward the Dradis console in the center. Enemy contacts littered the screen, vipers disappearing from their positions with alarming speed even as more enemy raiders showed up.
There were three basestars.
She heard the chords first. A simple string of notes growing into a familiar pattern, a melody she hadn't thought of since she was eight. The vision of a piano, strong, sinewy hands striking each note in time with her heart. The beating reverberated throughout her body, in her hands and her throat and her belly.
Galactica took another hit. This time sparks shot about as wires came loose above their heads, paneling falling across several communications officers. Adama fell forward on the star charts, Tigh holding tight to his headset as he shouted orders to the deck crew.
Gaeta hollered over the other shouting, "We've been hit by a heavy raider! Sir, it rammed the port landing bay!"
"Send in a team of marines! Don't let the DC crew near it until the area's been cleared of any cylons!" The Admiral turned his attention to Tigh. "Colonel, bring in the port pod, and re-direct all vipers through the starboard." Then he got to Kara, and there was rage in his eyes, not professional stoicism. "Starbuck, get down to the hanger deck and talk the pilots through their landing. It's going to get crowded."
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