Starbuck sucked in a ragged breath, pausing with his hand on the door to the private cubicle that his wife and daughter were occupying in the Life Station, garnering both his resolve and his wits before he could get up the courage to enter. Cassie's handling of the whole scene was resonating with him, making him reflect all too late that he hadn't realized what he had with her until it was as good as gone.

It had been a day of self-discovery to put it mildly, and only half way through it he was wondering how a guy could go from hero to heel in the space of a couple centars. Then again, it wasn't his professional conduct that anyone was questioning. It was his moral code, or lack thereof.

It was easy to blame it all on circumstances; Hades Hole, he'd been doing that all his life. Things just happened to him, having nothing at all to do with his behaviour, or so he'd believed up until now. After all, there were two kinds of luck in life, both good and bad. For the most part at some point the Goddess Fortuna would inevitably come to his rescue after rubbing his nose in a set of disagreeable circumstances for her own personal amusement. Not that he'd ever learned anything from that or really cared, as long as it worked out in the end.

No, Starbuck had never bought into that masochistic Kobollian personal edict of guilt and recrimination, despite having it force fed to him on a shovel for most of his young life. Going through life wallowing in regret was no way to live. For as long as he could remember, his credo had been that you only went around once, so you might as well enjoy it. But he'd never expected it to be at someone else's expense, especially someone he cared about.

Maybe even loved . . .

He held his breath for a long moment, struggling against the wave of emotion crashing down upon him. His eyes prickled threateningly and he swallowed down the lump that was trying to choke him, while an image of Cassie fighting back tears burned itself into his consciousness. Oh, it was a fine time for epiphanies, too little too late!

"Starbuck? Is that you?"

It occurred to him suddenly that he was standing there with the door cracked part way open, his feet frozen to the spot. Pushing open a door . . . why was it so difficult? Because you're closing another one, Idiot! That's why!

"Starbuck?" Honour called again, this time pulling the door open, finishing what he couldn't.

Gone were the stinking rags and unkempt hair, leaving behind a breath-taking woman. She was clothed in a traditional robe, and her shining tawny hair hung loosely on her shoulders. The illuminators above highlighted subtle tints of red and gold in her silken lengths that he'd forgotten about until now. There was colour back in her cheeks, and her wide blue eyes seemed to smile with pleasure as she studied him. Then she frowned ever so slightly, reaching forward and taking his hand, much as she would a child, drawing him inside.

The door clicked shut behind him as his heart pounded in his ears.

"Are you alright?" she asked in a small, uncertain voice, pausing only a moment to check on Tara who was playing with some toys on the floor.

"Me?" he asked. The question seemed so out of place, considering the circumstances. "What makes you think I . . ."

"You look so . . . lost," she replied, reaching slowly upward and stroking his face with her fingertips, her touch feather-soft. "Starbuck, I don't remember you ever being anything less than . . . overconfident. It was as though you'd never doubted a single thing you'd ever done in your entire life." She smiled gently at him. "How I envied you that."

"You sure that was confidence?" he asked her, suspecting strongly now that it had more to do with ignorance and training.

"I was then," she replied, sighing, dropping her hand, and pushing her long, wavy hair back from her face. "I suppose we have a lot of catching up to do."

"I guess so."

"Starbuck," she said, beginning tentatively, "all this time you thought I was dead . . . you probably have a full life . . . a girlfriend . . . and here I was so excited that we'd found you, I never even thought to ask. I'm so sorry, Starbuck."

He bit his lip. After all she'd been through, she was apologizing to him?

"Do you want to have the test done?" Honour blurted out, raising a hand to her mouth as she waited for his answer.

"T-test?" he echoed in shock. "What are you . . .?"

"There's a test that will prove you're Tara's father; Cassiopeia mentioned it, as did several others," she replied, her face flushing with embarrassment.

"Cassie suggested . . .?" Why would Cassie suggest it to Honour and not him?

"She said it would be more of a formality for their records, but that she'd need your consent, as well." Honour nodded, frowning thoughtfully. "I'm glad the other med tech took over our care. Poor Tara just cried and cried when Cassiopeia was examining her . . . I don't think she likes children very much."

He raised his eyebrows in surprise.

"Anyhow, it made me realize that you must be wondering . . . and I don't want you doubting me, or thinking that I'm using you . . ." Honour's voice faltered, thickening with emotion as she turned away from him, bowing her head, her arms wrapping around her middle.

"Using me?" he replied, cringing that he'd brought another woman to tears so soon. "I never thought . . ."

"Others obviously do. You were the only one, Starbuck . . ." she continued throatily. "My first, my last . . . but there's no way that you could know that . . . and if you want to make sure . . . then I . . . I think we should do the test . . . if you really want to, that is." Her shoulders shook slightly, and her voice was now thick with tears, barely coherent. "I want your mind at ease. I know you don't have . . ." She sniffed loudly, her hand surreptitiously wiping away tears that she didn't want him to see. "You don't have much faith in women . . ."

"Is that . . . is that really what you think?" he said hoarsely, her words cutting him more deeply than anything that Cassie had said a few moments before. Truthfully, even when Tigh had raised the matter of Tara's paternity, it hadn't occurred to him that Honour would be less than honest about any of this. There were only a few people in his life that he'd believed were morally beyond deceit, and at this moment, he added her to his mental list. Obviously, having her fidelity and integrity questioned by Life Station staff as well as by her own husband was humiliating to her in the extreme. It was adding insult to injury, and it made him feel even worse when he thought about Cassie's apparent part in it. However, to ease his presumably suspicious mind and erase any future scepticism on his part, Honour would not only go through with it, but she'd actually suggested it.

"We're mostly playthings, aren't we, Starbuck?" she said matter-of-factly. "For a little while we get to bask in the glow of your light." She drew a deep breath, her voice getting back some semblance of control, before she straightened her back. "You have something so irresistible . . . so addictive. You have the ability to make people happy just being around them, both men and women. Always the centre of attention, radiating joy and laughter, that's how I remember you. It's a rare gift, Starbuck." She hesitated a moment, squatting down to take something from Tara's hand, before replacing it with a toy when the child squawked in protest. "I remember . . . I never felt as alive as I did when I was with you." She looked up at him briefly, smiling as she stood again. "And when you turned the power of that magnetism on me . . . I was lost. And I treasured every moment of it, Starbuck. I really did."

"What do you want from me, Honour?" he asked, his voice raw. In a jumble of confused emotions, it just came out that way.

"Whatever you're willing to give. I just want you to know your daughter, Starbuck. She's such a blessing in my life," she replied, again looking down at Tara. "But, I don't want to impose . . ."

"Impose?" he replied, not able to conceive that she'd think of it that way. "Honour, you're my family! My only family!"

She looked back up at him, hope once again lighting her mien. "You mean that after the test, we might possibly . . .?"

He shook his head, stepping forward and taking her hand. "There isn't going to be any test, Honour. I never doubted for a centon that Tara was mine. If you're agreeable to it, I want you both to move to the Galactica, just as soon as we can get you quarters. . ." It was the least that he could do and it was way overdue.

She caught her breath, looking at him wide-eyed. "But . . ."

"At first, you and Tara can live separate from me while we all get to know each other once again." He noticed she seemed to relax at that. He wasn't the Boray that everyone took him for. "Then maybe someday—when we're ready—we can move into family quarters."

"Really?" Honour squealed, throwing herself into his arms, embracing him. "Oh, Starbuck!"

He held onto her tightly, soaking up the warmth of her happiness for a selfish moment, waiting for it to penetrate the inexplicable numbness that had swept over him. He tried to rationalize that he was married to a beautiful, selfless woman who just happened to be the mother of his child. He could do this. He could be a husband and father. After all, it came naturally to most of the male population, why not him? Centons later, Honour was plunking Tara back into his arms, and collecting her pack of belongings.

"Where are we going now?" she asked, a new spring in her step as she did a final check to make sure she had her worldly goods.

"We'll see if there are any quarters available," he replied, opening the door easily this time, while he balanced his daughter in his arms. He stood aside, letting Honour pass. "Don't get your hopes up too high, though. This is a military vessel, and civilian billets are as tough to get as Cylon mercy. Even the best of the civilian ships have waitlists. You might need to share with someone for a while."

"We were sharing with a hundred on our deck on the Aerian Freighter, a pile of girders our only privacy," she replied, leading him across the Life Station. "Anything here will be an improvement. Hopefully, I can make some kind of contribution, maybe help other single mothers . . ."

Not surprisingly, she paused in her thoughts of future humanitarianism to graciously thank the health unit staff for their care and consideration. Starbuck looked around for Cassie, but it seemed she had made herself scarce. He supposed he couldn't really blame her.

Then, as if to disprove his thoughts, Cassiopeia appeared from another cubicle, hesitating as she spied the small family getting ready to leave. She actually stumbled, her face suddenly stricken at the sight of him with Honour and Tara. Then she forced herself forward, crossing the short distance between them, her professional demeanour back in place.

"Take good care, Honour," she said solemnly, before smiling down at Tara in her father's arms. "That goes double for you, Sweetness. I can see you already have your father wrapped around your little finger, and I don't think you'll have any trouble keeping him that way."

"True," Starbuck replied, noticing Cassie wouldn't meet his eye.

Abruptly, Tara surged forward in Starbuck's arms, arms outstretched, reaching for Cassie, as she burbled happily. He tightened his grip on the tot, afraid he was going to drop her. Lords, but she moved fast!

"Thank you, Cassiopeia," Honour said with a small smile, inserting herself between them, before turning the warmth of her smile towards the rest of the staff. "Bless you all for the work you do here."

"We're glad we could help," Cassie replied with a nod. "Take care of them, Starbuck."

"I will," he replied, feeling Honour tug him forward, eager to begin her new lease on life.

He made it to the threshold, and then paused. How many times had he heard you should never look back? Then again, how many times had he actually listened to such superstition, considering it nonsense? Watching his wife's slender form move slowly down the corridor, he risked it, one small peek back over his shoulder.

Cassie's eyes met his and she smiled at him, her eyes glimmering sadly. Tenderly, she kissed her fingertips, blowing the kiss his way. The gesture was so subtle and it happened so quickly, he wondered if he had imagined it. Then she bowed her head and turned away.

"Starbuck?" Honour called back to him.

"Coming."