Thanks for the kind reviews, everybody! This chapter was also tough to write because I wasn't sure where it was going to go, and it took three or four drafts to stop feeling like my sentences were mocking me by refusing to make sense. But the end result was not quite as bad as I was afraid of. I hope to work up the courage to start Chapter 12 soon, so if you have any encouraging words to propel me onward, I would be most grateful. And now, where were we?

Chapter 11

"He's spinning out of control!"

The words still echoed in my ears as my fears crystalized into determination. If we hoped to get Starbuck back in one piece, we'd have to act quickly and work together. And hopefully a little of the luck Starbuck seemed to carry in full supply would give us the extra edge in this emergency. They'd called me to the Bridge because I not only had medical knowledge, but I knew Starbuck's condition better than almost anyone else. It was time to put that knowledge to work.

"I need a communicator," I said.

Athena handed me her headset. I took a deep breath.

"Apollo," I said, "this is Cassiopeia. I need you to tell me exactly what happened as quickly as possible."

"He sounded fine at first," came Apollo's reply. "He was shooting up Cylons and talking on the com. Then he told me his thumb was twitching uncontrollably, then his whole right hand. He sounded panicked. I told him to switch hands at the controls and head back to the Galactica. He banked left, but suddenly he groaned like he was in pain. I called him, but he didn't answer. His Viper kept rolling and veered downward. Now he's spinning in all directions."

Adama touched Athena's shoulder. "Keep an eye on that ship," he said.

I glanced at the screen and saw the Viper which had to be Starbuck's fidgeting across the scanner grid. The other Viper close by was probably Apollo. The area around the two Vipers was clear of Cylon ships or other Vipers, but Starbuck's chaotic trajectory drove him ever closer to a looming presence on the edge of the scanner: the Galactica.

"Apollo, did Starbuck leave his channel open? Can you hear anything?"

There was silence for a few microns. "I think I'm hearing a banging noise inside his Viper."

I listened hard, and finally caught what he was describing. It was faint and distorted, but sounded like a regular pounding. Almost as if something was smacking the interior of the Viper over and over and...

All the pieces fell into place. My stomach twisted. "Holy frack, he's having a seizure!"

Adama, Athena, and Tigh looked at me with alarm. "Lords have mercy..." Adama exclaimed.

"It started as a focal onset," I thought aloud, "and became generalized, at which point he lost consciousness. Apollo, how long ago did he stop talking?"

"I'd estimate... about two centons."

"Commander," Athena spoke up, "on his current path, Starbuck's going to hit the Galactica in fifty microns."

"Get the Galactica out of his way," Adama ordered Tigh, who climbed up to the command platform to work with Omega.

"But even at top speed, we can't outrun a Viper," Athena said.

"If he's been seizing for two centons already, the seizure should be over in a centon or less," I said. "All we have to do is keep his path clear for that long."

Adama conveyed this information to Tigh. Athena's scanner showed the Galactica moving to the side, out of the way. In the background, Apollo gave instructions to the other pilots to stay clear of the situation.

"The Cylons are on the run," came Boomer's voice. "We'll stay in a holding pattern until it's safe to land."

Suddenly, an unmistakable moan came over the com.

"Starbuck?" Apollo and I called at the same time.

I held my breath.

Another moan, then a quiet, "Frack."

"Starbuck, hit your autocontrol and steer away from the Galactica!" said Apollo.

"W-what?" Starbuck sounded like he'd just woken from a ten-yahren nap.

Apollo repeated the instructions, and Adama, Athena, and I watched as the Viper slowly altered to a safe course. I started breathing again.

"What happened?" Starbuck spoke slowly, with difficulty.

"You had a seizure," said Apollo. "You lost control of your Viper."

"It hurts... all over."

Tonic-clonic seizures often caused extreme muscle pain and soreness. I pictured what seizing in a Viper cockpit would do to the human body and shuddered. We would have some patching up to do.

"It's okay, buddy. You're going to be okay. Follow me back to the landing bay, all right?"

"I-I-I can't!" Starbuck's voice abruptly escalated to panic. "My wrist... Something's wrong with my wrist. It hurts, everything hurts, and I can't..."

"Starbuck, listen to me. Boomer and I will tow you back to the bay. Just cut your thrusters, all right? And we'll bring you back to the Galactica and get you to the Life Station. Okay?"

Starbuck audibly exhaled. "Okay."

Boomer and Apollo came up next to Starbuck's Viper and coached him as they attached tow lines and brought him in. I handed the headset back to Athena, grabbed my med kit, told Omega to call the Life Station to send a stretcher, and ran to the landing bay to meet them.

My excuse for being first up the mounting stairs was that I was the medtech practitioner on duty and I had already been present the first two times Starbuck had seizures. I only hoped this didn't mean he was regressing. I didn't know what it meant except that something was still wrong with his brain, something that flying a Viper into battle had triggered.

The canopy opened to reveal a confused and shaken Starbuck. The blood had drained from his face, leaving behind an expression I didn't recognize in the confident, self-possessed Warrior I loved: he had no idea what to do. And he looked scared.

I talked soothingly as I checked him over, telling him what had happened and that we would get him to the Life Station. He didn't reply, just passively sat and let me do what I was going to do. The seizure had expended his energy, and he'd need to sleep soon in order to recover. His right wrist was sprained, probably from slamming against the cramped cockpit, and he needed my help to remove his flight helmet. His blood pressure was low even for his new normal, and his pulse beat rapidly. Oddly, his temperature had risen to a few points above standard. The wrist seemed to be the worst injury, but there wasn't much more I could tell without a full examination. A crowd had started to gather behind me as I worked, so now was a good time to leave.

I scanned the small group near the Viper. Adama was there, and Apollo and Boomer, and a few mechanics and techs, plus Medtech Yordi with a stretcher. It was thoughtful of them to stay back and give me room to work.

"He's going to be fine," I announced. I gestured to Yordi. "Can you help me get him down from here?"

As I'd suspected, Starbuck was too unsteady and stiff with pain to exit the Viper on his own. Yordi and I had to support him as he climbed down the mount. Once he got onto the stretcher, it was a short trip to the Life Station. Doctor Salik and I conducted a basic examination and found most of the pain Starbuck was experiencing came from bruising and muscle strain. As soon as we removed his uniform to check his limbs, he started shivering uncontrollably and wincing as his sore muscles contracted. I covered him with a blanket, and in a couple centons, he had fallen fast asleep. The wrist had a first-degree sprain, but with proper care it would heal in a few days. I wrapped it in a bandage and secured a cooling pack around it to treat the swelling.

"He's feverish, almost certainly coming down with an infection, and completely exhausted," Salik said to me in an undertone while making notes on his infotablet. "All of this could have helped trigger the seizure. And out there in the stress of battle, with the flashing lasers and sensory stimulation..." He shook his head. "At least it happened early on."

"What do you mean?"

"Now we know he hasn't healed enough to fly a Viper for a while yet. It's a good thing we found out before there were more serious consequences."

"But it was only one seizure," I protested. "And he's under a lot of physical stress, as you just said yourself."

"But if he has a seizure once, the chances that he will have another exponentially multiply. That's why medical protocol clearly states that a pilot must be seizure-free for at least three quatrons before he can fly again. We already pushed that boundary by letting him fly shuttles, but I was almost certain his brain had recovered enough to do so safely. A mistake we won't make again."

Processing the news, I looked down at Starbuck. He lay completely still under the silver blanket, flat on his back, nothing moving except his chest as he breathed. Every muscle in his face had relaxed, letting the small remainder of excess skin droop from his cheekbones and reveal the hollows around his eyes. Too similar to his aspect just two quatrons ago, when he came to us almost helpless to fight the horrific death that had sapped his strength in a day. And no matter how much we pushed it back, it had continued to sap his strength. We could no longer pretend everything would simply go back to normal in time. We couldn't continue helping Starbuck to pretend. This was the result.

I touched Salik's shoulder and waited for him to look at me. "We need to help him find another way to make a life. No matter why he decided to go out there today, he did it because being a Warrior is the only life he knows. If he can't do that, he'll have to find another occupation he's physically and mentally capable of. And he'll need all the clear-thinking heads he can get for the job."

It was Salik's turn to watch Starbuck for a couple microns. "We'll make that a priority among the senior staff. I'm sure Adama will have some thoughts on that score. For the moment, my priority is to get him from this exam table into one of the private chambers. Peace and quiet is what this one needs in plenty."

And love. Plenty of love. From what Starbuck had shared with me in bits and pieces about his history, I could sketch out a life in which no one could be trusted to take care of his needs unless he took care of them himself. A situation I could understand to some degree. As we rolled in a life pod, lifted Starbuck onto it, and wheeled him, still out cold, into a chamber, conviction gripped me at the throat, feeling a lot like the beginning of tears. The man who had spent his whole life pulling himself up to success by his own bootstraps had lost that success in a day, and with it all the arrangements for room and board and income and entertainment that had made his life secure. And he'd lost himself: his personality, vibrancy, wit, charm, and purpose. The nightmares and combat trauma had weighed him down, and in trying to escape the pain he'd shoved everyone out of his way to forge ahead on his own. But he lacked the strength and stability to do it alone. He was broken, and it was up to us, his friends and substitutional family, to give him the help he was too stubborn to ask for. Help him heal, and become a whole person again. Show him he was loved.

Once we stepped outside the chamber, I had formed a plan. I asked Doctor Salik for permission to try it and to take time off. Then I left, made arrangements with Myrina to keep Sidus for a couple days, changed out of my uniform into civilian clothes, packed a bag, and returned to the Life Station. Another life pod lined up half a metron from Starbuck's, and everything was ready. I was moving in. Starbuck was the man I loved most in the universe. It was time I gave him the attention and care he needed. Not as a medtech or as a socialator, but as a friend. A very close friend.

The evening passed quietly. Starbuck continued to sleep as if he hadn't slept in days. I read a novel on my infotablet, periodically checking Starbuck's vitals and watching him sleep. Since this afternoon's scare, it made me feel better to see him safe and resting. His fever stayed low, which hopefully meant whatever his body was fighting was nothing serious. A few centons passed, and I could no longer keep my eyes open. Settling into my life pod, I dozed off quickly.

Incoherent shouting jarred me awake. I turned the lights fully on and went to Starbuck. He sprawled across the life pod, flailing with his arms and kicking his blanket further and further onto the floor. "No!" he yelled. "Stop! I can't take any more!" The words faded into cries of pain and fear.

I took his hands in my own, calling to him until he stopped struggling and finally opened his eyes. I crouched next to him as he sat up, not fully awake, and began to hyperventilate and cough and clutch at his chest and tremble with an oncoming panic attack. I brought him an inhaler mask and held it over his nose and mouth, speaking softly and continuously and rubbing his back with my free hand as I waited for the relaxant to do its work. I held him close when his breathing slowed enough to set the mask aside, and he continued to tremble from head to toe although his body was warm to the touch. I slid behind him and let him lean back against me, smoothing his hair and stroking lines across his shoulders.

"They won't leave me alone," he said hoarsely. "I thought if I could shoot them down like I used to, it would help. But they're still in my head. They come after me every time I try to sleep. And now everything hurts like Hades and I just..." He made a noise that was half cough, half sob. "I can't stop remembering. And I want to stop."

I processed everything he was saying and not saying. My heart ached with a need to do something; anything to take away the pain. But how could I or anyone else ever hope to do that? What happened to Starbuck was pure cruelty. There was no answer, no explanation.

This time, the sob was unmistakable. "I was supposed to die," he choked. "Why can't I be dead?! The Cylons took everything away from me. Now I'm worth felgercarb." He began to weep bitterly, with the haphazard sobs of one who is no longer in control and can no longer hold back.

In the midst of sorrow I thanked the Lords of Kobol that Starbuck was feeling something at last. There was hope for healing now that he could grieve. I held him tight and waited for a few moments as the emotions wrenched themselves from the depths of his being.

"Starbuck," I said, "you're right that the Cylons took far too much from you, and they meant for you to die. But they didn't take everything. They didn't take your spirit, or your honor, or the light you bring to the lives of so many. You were fully prepared to sacrifice yourself to save the Fleet; just because you didn't die doesn't make it any less of a sacrifice. Maybe it is worse in some ways, because now you have to live with what they did to you. But you survived something no one should come back from. It has to be for a reason. Those mysterious Beings seem to think there is one."

He was crying still, but less convulsively. I gently pulled his head toward my shoulder, and he leaned on me, tears slowly soaking through my dress. I continued to speak.

"But even if they don't have a reason, there are more important reasons you're still here. We need you, Starbuck. All your friends - all your family - we need you to stay with us. Do you have any idea how we broke apart inside when we thought you were gone for good? Apollo loves you as his brother; Adama loves you as his son. I love you... more than any other man I've ever known. You are strong, Starbuck. You are a good man, and the worst torture known to humanity could not take that away from you. All these shadows, these terrors - they can't last forever. You will push through. And you are surrounded by people who love you right now, as you are, and will do anything they can to help you. Let us help you, Starbuck. You gave your life to protect us; let us do what we can to get that life back for you."

A thought came to me, and I wrestled with whether I ought to say it. But it would be wrong to stay silent.

"And, if nothing else," I said quietly, "think of Sidus. He's growing up without a family. He needs a man in his life who will teach him how to be a man of honor, and courage, and character. I can think of no one better for the job. He loves you already, Starbuck. And I know you love him too. Be there for him. Be his..." I took a deep breath,"...father figure. That's what he needs from you. No more… no less."

Starbuck was breathing steadily now. He sniffed and coughed a little. "But I don't… know how to be a father. I never had one."

"You know what you needed when you were growing up. And Apollo and Adama are always nearby to share their experience. It's not a mystical formula: it's love, and giving yourself, and doing what's best for a child. You're more than halfway there."

He sat up. "But I don't have a place to live, or a way to feed him, or…"

"Shhhh." I stood up and fixed the pillows, then gently pulled his shoulders back until he lay down again. "There's time to worry about all of that later. I'm making sure he's taken care of. He still has yahrens of growing ahead of him. For tonight, you need to rest."

When I was sure he was settling down, I brought him a cup of cold water, and he drank half of it without any prodding from me. I checked to make sure his temperature hadn't risen any more, then pulled my life pod next to his. I turned the lights low, climbed into my life pod, and reached over and helped him get comfortable. He looked drowsy again, and he willingly closed his eyes. But suddenly, he opened them again to look at me.

"How long are you staying?" he asked.

I lay down myself and met his eyes. "All of tonight, and all of tomorrow, and as long as you want me to after that."

He relaxed again. "Okay." I considered suggesting he turn over onto his opposite side so I could rub his back, but his eyes had already closed, and within a centon he breathed deeply through his open mouth. I curled up under my blankets and listened to the regular inhales and exhales, like the midnight wind traveling across the sands of Gemon. My little speech on fatherhood held transferable applications for my own role. I didn't know what to do for Starbuck except to love him, and give myself, and do what I believed was best for him. In that attempt, I'd been lucky enough to give him a safe place to grieve and find him a purpose for the moment. No matter what turns the road ahead would take, we had a starting point and a destination. And we had each other.

His right hand lay at the edge of his life pod, partially encased in its wrapping and the cooling pack. I placed my own hand on top of it, and then, on a whim, slid my hand under his palm. The loud breathing paused for a few microns, and his fingers contracted slightly in a loose grip. Gently, I squeezed back, relishing the closeness after sectons of his resisting my touch. Somewhere in my state of contentment and gratitude, I fell asleep.