Chapter 6
Lee Adama opened his eyes as the alarm buzzed softly in one ear. The other was buried firmly in his pillow. The night had gone too quickly, and he felt like he hadn't slept much at all. Still, as much as a courtesy as by necessity, he reached to the head of the bed to turn off the alarm.
Groggily he rubbed a hand over his face and sat up. The sharp pain in his forehead took him by surprise. Blinking quickly in the dim light of the pilot's quarters, he oriented himself quickly. He wasn't in his own bed. That was apparent. A glance behind him at the shelf that held the clock showed a deck of cards, two new cigars, and a handful of hard candies. Starbuck's bunk.
He rubbed his forehead gently, grateful not to see blood on his hand when he looked at it. How she slept in this cubby-hole was beyond him. His only request when he'd moved into group quarters was that he have a top bunk. He would rather fall five feet than bang his head every morning.
He shifted his feet slightly to avoid the ladder to his own bunk and finally managed to get his boots to the floor. He was still in his uniform, jacket included. That explained what he was doing in Kara's bunk. He must have made it this far and collapsed. He barely remembered the walk from the flight deck after they had squared away the accident scene. They still had a ton of clean-up to do in the landing pod, but last night he hadn't cared. Make that this morning. A glance at the clock he had just turned off showed this afternoon. No wonder he was hungry.
He rubbed his face again, realizing how badly he needed a shave. Up on his own bunk, there was a note from Kara that he was to report to the commander at sixteen-hundred. It was fourteen-hundred now. That gave him time for a shower and food. He was off the duty roster until nineteen-hundred. He had scheduled that deliberately, knowing he would need some sleep.
With another yawn he collected his bag from his locker and took his shower in relative quiet. He usually got up with Kara to run, regardless of his shift, so it was throwing him off to be in a deserted shower room.
When he made it back to quarters, dressed in a clean uniform and freshly shaven, he found Lieutenant Dualla at Boomer's bunk, taking things off the shelves and placing them in a tote bag.
"What's up?" he asked quickly. "I thought she was being released today."
"She has been," Dee said with glance at him. "She's in family quarters. Commander Adama asked me to pick up her stuff."
"Family quarters?" he asked in semi-confusion. He knew that there was a relationship between Tyrol and Sharon, but he wasn't aware that his father was privy to the information. It was something he hadn't done anything about simply because it was none of his business. Yes, Boomer was his pilot, but where she slept at night had nothing to do with her flying, and he hadn't seen it affect the Chief's work either. Well, not until yesterday, but that had definitely been extenuating circumstances.
"I believe she's moved in with Chief Tyrol," Dee told him with what might have been a blush, and definitely was a sheepish smile. "The Commander said that I was to clean out her shelves and her locker, and drop everything off so that the Chief wouldn't have to leave her alone."
"I see," he said, but he really didn't. Mentally he cataloged the information and decided to bring it up with his father. He would be meeting with him in less than an hour. He wondered whether it might be about this, then decided not to be paranoid. His father wasn't really the type of commander to lecture him about not being able to control his pilots.
Lee grabbed a protein drink from the officer's mess and drank it while he looked over the morning's reports. Repairs were already initiated on the landing pod, and the pilots were using the other landing bay in the meantime. Given the excitement of the day before, it was all very routine.
A glance at his watch sent him to his father's office. He knocked twice on the door, and heard a commanding, "Come in."
Stepping through the hatch, he saw that his father was bent over his desk, scribbling something on a clipboard. He stood just inside the door and waited, as there was no chair to sit in even if his father had told him to do so. It wasn't a lack of courtesy, but rather a lack of space. There wasn't room for another chair with the desk in here.
When the Commander looked up, Lee asked, "You wanted to see me?"
"Yes, have a seat."
Lee followed his father's gesture and took a seat at the foot of the bed. "Is there a problem?"
"Yes and no," his father told him with a sigh. Then he shook his head and gave a smile. "I'm sorry. I didn't even ask how you were doing. I know you had a late night last night."
"I'm sure you've seen the reports," Lee told him. "Repairs are underway."
The eldest Adama just looked at him. "And you are."
Lee smiled. "I'm fine. Thanks."
The Commander nodded. "We have a minor. situation," he began. "I need for you to reassign some duties. Lieutenant Valerii is no longer to be responsible for fitness reports on our flight crew. Perhaps Lieutenant Randall or Lieutenant Caspan could take the responsibility."
Lee nodded his understanding. "I'll take care of it," he said. Then, after a pause, "So I assume you know."
His father smiled. It was a genuine smile, and the first that Lee had seen in a long time. "I know most of what's happening on my ship," he explained simply.
"Yes, Sir."
Adama took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Most of the time, unless it's an issue, I simply don't let people know that I'm aware of situations. Given the, well the obvious nature of the relationship, I feel it's more appropriate that she not be responsible for writing reports on Tyrol's crew."
Lee nodded. "Will there be any disciplinary action?"
"Court martial them for living," he said quietly. "That might have been appropriate before the war, but we can't afford to lose our men or women just because they need someone to get through the days. Or the nights. That's not fair to them, and it's not good for our future. I think it's more important that we keep our crew happy and eliminate as much conflict of interest as possible."
Lee smiled at his father's answer. "Yes, Sir."
"I assume you feel the same way, as you haven't reported the situation."
"It wasn't affecting their work," Lee admitted. "I didn't see a need."
The Commander nodded. "There are other similar situations," he said softly. "Let's make sure that we distribute duties so as not to allow it to become a problem. You may change review assignments at your discretion, and if anyone questions the situation you can refer them to me."
"Yes, Sir," Lee said again.
"I would also like Hawk added to the award roster," Adama said softly. "From what the emergency crew tells me, he did his best to protect his pilot. That deserves recognition."
"I'll take care of it." Adama nodded, and was silent for a few moments. Lee looked at him curiously, wondering if they were finished. Finally, he asked, "Will there be anything else?"
"Yes," he said quietly. "How are you?"
"Sir?"
"I'm not asking as your commander," he said gently. "I'm asking as your father. How are you feeling?"
"I'm fine, Sir," Lee said quietly. "I miss some sleep on occasion, but otherwise I'm doing as well as anyone can."
"Your mother's birthday was last week," he murmured.
Lee looked at him for a moment and then let out a breath he'd been holding. "I remember."
"It was a difficult day," he said simply.
"It was," Lee told him. "I kept busy."
Adama was silent a moment longer, but Lee could tell he wasn't finished. "The ceremony is a week from tomorrow," he said softly.
"Yes, Sir."
"You know the date?"
Lee nodded. "It's Zak's birthday."
Adama smiled. "Your mother was always annoyed that he didn't come on her birthday. That was when he was due, but Zak never did anything on anyone else's schedule. I didn't set the date for the ceremony. I didn't even really realize it until last week, when I picked up the duty roster and saw your mother's birthday there. My first thought was that I had forgotten to send flowers."
"I'm sorry."
Adama nodded, an acknowledgement of the pain they both shared, and the regrets. He took another deep breath and continued. "I'm worried about Kara," he admitted. "Her solution to the day is usually to get drunk before it starts and stay that way until it's over. She usually wakes up in the brig."
"We don't have to worry about that," Lee said gently. "There's no liquor left aboard the Galactica."
"Exactly," he said.
Lee suddenly understood. Kara wouldn't be able to escape the day. She would have to live through it, and with the award ceremony she wouldn't even be able to bury herself in work.
"I'll stick close," Lee promised.
"I appreciate it," his father said with a soft smile. "She isn't half as strong sometimes as she thinks she is."
Lee waited a moment, then replied with a smile that was very much like his father's. "Yes, she is."
Chief Tyrol tightened his grip on Sharon as she slept. Boxey was in class, and the Commander had generously given him the rest of the week off. He wasn't wasting the time.
He was lying next to her on the bed, one arm around her shoulders as her head rested on his chest. They had spent a lot of time like this since he'd walked her back to his quarters. Boxey had gotten to the point where he just rolled his eyes and asked if he could go play with friends in the Children's Center. Mostly, Tyrol thought the boy was just glad to have her back.
She had spent a lot of time with them at the beginning of the war. Most nights she had slept here, on one of the two beds that made up their quarters. Some nights she slept with him, and other nights she had simply held Boxey as he cried for his parents and the loss of all his friends. She was amazing with him, always knowing the right balance between enough sympathy and too much, and she always knew what to say to make the tears stop.
The tears had been less frequent lately, but they still occurred in the darkness of the night. Tyrol didn't handle it nearly as well as Sharon did. But he had done his best. He had needed to since Sharon had stopped spending the nights with them.
That had been his fault. He was the one who had worried about getting into trouble. He was the one who had been afraid of getting caught, and thought that having Boxey there was too thin an excuse for her to be caught living with him. He was the one who had started the last screaming match that had put her in tears as she packed up the couple of things she'd kept here and walked out. He was the one who had put a stop to the best thing that had ever happened to him.
Boxey had wanted to know what was wrong. How did one explain the intricate nature of military law? Mostly he hadn't. He had just said that she needed to be with her squadron and left it at that. Boxey hadn't bought it, but he hadn't complained either. Tyrol figured that he was still afraid he'd get sent to one of the civilian ships. He would never do that to him, of course, but the kid didn't know him well enough to know that.
Sharon shifted, rubbing her face into his shirt as she woke up. She gave his waist a little squeeze, then looked up. "Morning," she mumbled. Her voice was still rough from the irritation to her throat, but she sounded wonderful to him.
"How are you feeling?"
"Tired," she grumbled. "But better. I like waking up this way."
"Me too," he agreed, kissing her gently on the forehead. "I've missed you."
She didn't respond to that. He didn't really expect her to. He was the one who had suggested she leave.
"I was wrong," he admitted. "I should have gone to the Commander and explained the situation. I just didn't believe he'd understand."
"You play by the rules," she said softly. "It's one of the things I love about you. You have a streak of integrity that's a mile wide."
"About some things," he agreed.
"You've never compromised in your work," she said simply. "Not even with me. I understand that. Your work is important, and you didn't want to risk it. I can't blame you for that."
"You're important to me, too," he assured her.
"Mmm, that sounds good."
He smiled at her. Once more he was reminded how close he had come to losing her, and he didn't like the feeling. She was a huge part of him. So much a part, that he had even been willing to risk losing his job.
"The Commander had your stuff sent down," he told her softly. "You can get a shower if you want. Or we can just lay here."
"I'm fine here," she told him.
He gave her shoulders a gentle squeeze, then began thinking aloud. "I need to buy Hawk a drink," he admitted. "The emergency crew said that he did a pretty good job of protecting you from the fire."
"Stupid man," she muttered. "It doesn't matter how much equality women earn, when push comes to shove you still don't trust us to take care of ourselves."
"I trust you," he corrected. "It's the fire I didn't have much faith in."
She stuck her tongue out at him, then laid her head down.
"I think it's innate," he reasoned. "Somewhere in our biological programming. Men protect women and children. We don't even think about it; we just do it."
"I guess."
"Seriously, though, it's probably what saved him. The back of the Raptor went up. If he hadn't gone forward for you, there's no telling how badly burned he would have been."
"That makes me feel a little better," she admitted. "I hate to think he got hurt for me. Especially when I'm the one that couldn't get that thruster to work."
"There was no fuel to it," he explained. "When that seal gave, you lost the whole fuel line. That's what ignited when you hit the pod. The sparks set it off. If you hadn't come back early, you wouldn't have made it aboard, and." He didn't finish, but he did give her a gentle hug, and his voice got very rough. "I'm just glad I got you back."
"I'm glad to be back." She waited a moment, then added, "I never wanted to leave in the first place."
Tyrol closed his eyes, regret swamping him for a moment. "I'm sorry," he finally said. "I was wrong. I thought. well, it doesn't matter what I thought. I was wrong. It's more important to have you here with me than whether or not it affects my job or yours. If one of us has to quit, then we'll work it out."
"Will it go to court?" she asked softly.
"I don't think so. The Commander didn't seem upset. He's the one that suggested you move in here. He said you'd get more rest here."
"Well, I'm definitely more comfortable," she said with a grin, rubbing her cheek against his shirt again.
He smiled, and began stroking her long hair in a manner that comforted both of them. "You know," he finally said. "There is a way that we can make all of this irrelevant."
"What?"
He shrugged. "Fraternization doesn't apply to married couples," he said simply.
"Is that a good enough reason to get married?" she asked softly.
"I don't know. Is loving me a good enough reason to marry me?"
She lifted her head to look at him for a moment. He could swear there were tears in her eyes. "Is it what you want?"
He thought about it for a moment. "I've thought about it a lot," he admitted. "It would make things easier for Boxey, that's for sure. We might even be able to do a formal adoption if we were married. And it would eliminate the possibility of disciplinary action," he added. She had laid her head back down on his chest without answering, so he played his final card. "And I want to be with you, always. Doesn't it make sense to marry the woman of your dreams? It does to me."
She waited a moment before she lifted her head up to look at him. This time the tears were on her cheeks, not in her eyes. "Are you asking me to marry you?" she whispered.
He kissed her lips gently. "I love you," he said simply. "I want you to marry me. Yes, I'm asking."
"Then I'll answer," she told him with a grin. "Yes, I'll marry you. I love you. And I love Boxey. And I always wanted to be a part of a family."
He kissed her again, more deeply this time, before pulling back and resting his forehead against hers. "That was worse than taking on a Cylon," he muttered.
She grinned at him. "You knew I'd answer yes," she told him. "You had to know that."
"I hoped," he told her simply.
"I love you," she reminded him.
"I love you, Sharon."
Lee Adama opened his eyes as the alarm buzzed softly in one ear. The other was buried firmly in his pillow. The night had gone too quickly, and he felt like he hadn't slept much at all. Still, as much as a courtesy as by necessity, he reached to the head of the bed to turn off the alarm.
Groggily he rubbed a hand over his face and sat up. The sharp pain in his forehead took him by surprise. Blinking quickly in the dim light of the pilot's quarters, he oriented himself quickly. He wasn't in his own bed. That was apparent. A glance behind him at the shelf that held the clock showed a deck of cards, two new cigars, and a handful of hard candies. Starbuck's bunk.
He rubbed his forehead gently, grateful not to see blood on his hand when he looked at it. How she slept in this cubby-hole was beyond him. His only request when he'd moved into group quarters was that he have a top bunk. He would rather fall five feet than bang his head every morning.
He shifted his feet slightly to avoid the ladder to his own bunk and finally managed to get his boots to the floor. He was still in his uniform, jacket included. That explained what he was doing in Kara's bunk. He must have made it this far and collapsed. He barely remembered the walk from the flight deck after they had squared away the accident scene. They still had a ton of clean-up to do in the landing pod, but last night he hadn't cared. Make that this morning. A glance at the clock he had just turned off showed this afternoon. No wonder he was hungry.
He rubbed his face again, realizing how badly he needed a shave. Up on his own bunk, there was a note from Kara that he was to report to the commander at sixteen-hundred. It was fourteen-hundred now. That gave him time for a shower and food. He was off the duty roster until nineteen-hundred. He had scheduled that deliberately, knowing he would need some sleep.
With another yawn he collected his bag from his locker and took his shower in relative quiet. He usually got up with Kara to run, regardless of his shift, so it was throwing him off to be in a deserted shower room.
When he made it back to quarters, dressed in a clean uniform and freshly shaven, he found Lieutenant Dualla at Boomer's bunk, taking things off the shelves and placing them in a tote bag.
"What's up?" he asked quickly. "I thought she was being released today."
"She has been," Dee said with glance at him. "She's in family quarters. Commander Adama asked me to pick up her stuff."
"Family quarters?" he asked in semi-confusion. He knew that there was a relationship between Tyrol and Sharon, but he wasn't aware that his father was privy to the information. It was something he hadn't done anything about simply because it was none of his business. Yes, Boomer was his pilot, but where she slept at night had nothing to do with her flying, and he hadn't seen it affect the Chief's work either. Well, not until yesterday, but that had definitely been extenuating circumstances.
"I believe she's moved in with Chief Tyrol," Dee told him with what might have been a blush, and definitely was a sheepish smile. "The Commander said that I was to clean out her shelves and her locker, and drop everything off so that the Chief wouldn't have to leave her alone."
"I see," he said, but he really didn't. Mentally he cataloged the information and decided to bring it up with his father. He would be meeting with him in less than an hour. He wondered whether it might be about this, then decided not to be paranoid. His father wasn't really the type of commander to lecture him about not being able to control his pilots.
Lee grabbed a protein drink from the officer's mess and drank it while he looked over the morning's reports. Repairs were already initiated on the landing pod, and the pilots were using the other landing bay in the meantime. Given the excitement of the day before, it was all very routine.
A glance at his watch sent him to his father's office. He knocked twice on the door, and heard a commanding, "Come in."
Stepping through the hatch, he saw that his father was bent over his desk, scribbling something on a clipboard. He stood just inside the door and waited, as there was no chair to sit in even if his father had told him to do so. It wasn't a lack of courtesy, but rather a lack of space. There wasn't room for another chair with the desk in here.
When the Commander looked up, Lee asked, "You wanted to see me?"
"Yes, have a seat."
Lee followed his father's gesture and took a seat at the foot of the bed. "Is there a problem?"
"Yes and no," his father told him with a sigh. Then he shook his head and gave a smile. "I'm sorry. I didn't even ask how you were doing. I know you had a late night last night."
"I'm sure you've seen the reports," Lee told him. "Repairs are underway."
The eldest Adama just looked at him. "And you are."
Lee smiled. "I'm fine. Thanks."
The Commander nodded. "We have a minor. situation," he began. "I need for you to reassign some duties. Lieutenant Valerii is no longer to be responsible for fitness reports on our flight crew. Perhaps Lieutenant Randall or Lieutenant Caspan could take the responsibility."
Lee nodded his understanding. "I'll take care of it," he said. Then, after a pause, "So I assume you know."
His father smiled. It was a genuine smile, and the first that Lee had seen in a long time. "I know most of what's happening on my ship," he explained simply.
"Yes, Sir."
Adama took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Most of the time, unless it's an issue, I simply don't let people know that I'm aware of situations. Given the, well the obvious nature of the relationship, I feel it's more appropriate that she not be responsible for writing reports on Tyrol's crew."
Lee nodded. "Will there be any disciplinary action?"
"Court martial them for living," he said quietly. "That might have been appropriate before the war, but we can't afford to lose our men or women just because they need someone to get through the days. Or the nights. That's not fair to them, and it's not good for our future. I think it's more important that we keep our crew happy and eliminate as much conflict of interest as possible."
Lee smiled at his father's answer. "Yes, Sir."
"I assume you feel the same way, as you haven't reported the situation."
"It wasn't affecting their work," Lee admitted. "I didn't see a need."
The Commander nodded. "There are other similar situations," he said softly. "Let's make sure that we distribute duties so as not to allow it to become a problem. You may change review assignments at your discretion, and if anyone questions the situation you can refer them to me."
"Yes, Sir," Lee said again.
"I would also like Hawk added to the award roster," Adama said softly. "From what the emergency crew tells me, he did his best to protect his pilot. That deserves recognition."
"I'll take care of it." Adama nodded, and was silent for a few moments. Lee looked at him curiously, wondering if they were finished. Finally, he asked, "Will there be anything else?"
"Yes," he said quietly. "How are you?"
"Sir?"
"I'm not asking as your commander," he said gently. "I'm asking as your father. How are you feeling?"
"I'm fine, Sir," Lee said quietly. "I miss some sleep on occasion, but otherwise I'm doing as well as anyone can."
"Your mother's birthday was last week," he murmured.
Lee looked at him for a moment and then let out a breath he'd been holding. "I remember."
"It was a difficult day," he said simply.
"It was," Lee told him. "I kept busy."
Adama was silent a moment longer, but Lee could tell he wasn't finished. "The ceremony is a week from tomorrow," he said softly.
"Yes, Sir."
"You know the date?"
Lee nodded. "It's Zak's birthday."
Adama smiled. "Your mother was always annoyed that he didn't come on her birthday. That was when he was due, but Zak never did anything on anyone else's schedule. I didn't set the date for the ceremony. I didn't even really realize it until last week, when I picked up the duty roster and saw your mother's birthday there. My first thought was that I had forgotten to send flowers."
"I'm sorry."
Adama nodded, an acknowledgement of the pain they both shared, and the regrets. He took another deep breath and continued. "I'm worried about Kara," he admitted. "Her solution to the day is usually to get drunk before it starts and stay that way until it's over. She usually wakes up in the brig."
"We don't have to worry about that," Lee said gently. "There's no liquor left aboard the Galactica."
"Exactly," he said.
Lee suddenly understood. Kara wouldn't be able to escape the day. She would have to live through it, and with the award ceremony she wouldn't even be able to bury herself in work.
"I'll stick close," Lee promised.
"I appreciate it," his father said with a soft smile. "She isn't half as strong sometimes as she thinks she is."
Lee waited a moment, then replied with a smile that was very much like his father's. "Yes, she is."
Chief Tyrol tightened his grip on Sharon as she slept. Boxey was in class, and the Commander had generously given him the rest of the week off. He wasn't wasting the time.
He was lying next to her on the bed, one arm around her shoulders as her head rested on his chest. They had spent a lot of time like this since he'd walked her back to his quarters. Boxey had gotten to the point where he just rolled his eyes and asked if he could go play with friends in the Children's Center. Mostly, Tyrol thought the boy was just glad to have her back.
She had spent a lot of time with them at the beginning of the war. Most nights she had slept here, on one of the two beds that made up their quarters. Some nights she slept with him, and other nights she had simply held Boxey as he cried for his parents and the loss of all his friends. She was amazing with him, always knowing the right balance between enough sympathy and too much, and she always knew what to say to make the tears stop.
The tears had been less frequent lately, but they still occurred in the darkness of the night. Tyrol didn't handle it nearly as well as Sharon did. But he had done his best. He had needed to since Sharon had stopped spending the nights with them.
That had been his fault. He was the one who had worried about getting into trouble. He was the one who had been afraid of getting caught, and thought that having Boxey there was too thin an excuse for her to be caught living with him. He was the one who had started the last screaming match that had put her in tears as she packed up the couple of things she'd kept here and walked out. He was the one who had put a stop to the best thing that had ever happened to him.
Boxey had wanted to know what was wrong. How did one explain the intricate nature of military law? Mostly he hadn't. He had just said that she needed to be with her squadron and left it at that. Boxey hadn't bought it, but he hadn't complained either. Tyrol figured that he was still afraid he'd get sent to one of the civilian ships. He would never do that to him, of course, but the kid didn't know him well enough to know that.
Sharon shifted, rubbing her face into his shirt as she woke up. She gave his waist a little squeeze, then looked up. "Morning," she mumbled. Her voice was still rough from the irritation to her throat, but she sounded wonderful to him.
"How are you feeling?"
"Tired," she grumbled. "But better. I like waking up this way."
"Me too," he agreed, kissing her gently on the forehead. "I've missed you."
She didn't respond to that. He didn't really expect her to. He was the one who had suggested she leave.
"I was wrong," he admitted. "I should have gone to the Commander and explained the situation. I just didn't believe he'd understand."
"You play by the rules," she said softly. "It's one of the things I love about you. You have a streak of integrity that's a mile wide."
"About some things," he agreed.
"You've never compromised in your work," she said simply. "Not even with me. I understand that. Your work is important, and you didn't want to risk it. I can't blame you for that."
"You're important to me, too," he assured her.
"Mmm, that sounds good."
He smiled at her. Once more he was reminded how close he had come to losing her, and he didn't like the feeling. She was a huge part of him. So much a part, that he had even been willing to risk losing his job.
"The Commander had your stuff sent down," he told her softly. "You can get a shower if you want. Or we can just lay here."
"I'm fine here," she told him.
He gave her shoulders a gentle squeeze, then began thinking aloud. "I need to buy Hawk a drink," he admitted. "The emergency crew said that he did a pretty good job of protecting you from the fire."
"Stupid man," she muttered. "It doesn't matter how much equality women earn, when push comes to shove you still don't trust us to take care of ourselves."
"I trust you," he corrected. "It's the fire I didn't have much faith in."
She stuck her tongue out at him, then laid her head down.
"I think it's innate," he reasoned. "Somewhere in our biological programming. Men protect women and children. We don't even think about it; we just do it."
"I guess."
"Seriously, though, it's probably what saved him. The back of the Raptor went up. If he hadn't gone forward for you, there's no telling how badly burned he would have been."
"That makes me feel a little better," she admitted. "I hate to think he got hurt for me. Especially when I'm the one that couldn't get that thruster to work."
"There was no fuel to it," he explained. "When that seal gave, you lost the whole fuel line. That's what ignited when you hit the pod. The sparks set it off. If you hadn't come back early, you wouldn't have made it aboard, and." He didn't finish, but he did give her a gentle hug, and his voice got very rough. "I'm just glad I got you back."
"I'm glad to be back." She waited a moment, then added, "I never wanted to leave in the first place."
Tyrol closed his eyes, regret swamping him for a moment. "I'm sorry," he finally said. "I was wrong. I thought. well, it doesn't matter what I thought. I was wrong. It's more important to have you here with me than whether or not it affects my job or yours. If one of us has to quit, then we'll work it out."
"Will it go to court?" she asked softly.
"I don't think so. The Commander didn't seem upset. He's the one that suggested you move in here. He said you'd get more rest here."
"Well, I'm definitely more comfortable," she said with a grin, rubbing her cheek against his shirt again.
He smiled, and began stroking her long hair in a manner that comforted both of them. "You know," he finally said. "There is a way that we can make all of this irrelevant."
"What?"
He shrugged. "Fraternization doesn't apply to married couples," he said simply.
"Is that a good enough reason to get married?" she asked softly.
"I don't know. Is loving me a good enough reason to marry me?"
She lifted her head to look at him for a moment. He could swear there were tears in her eyes. "Is it what you want?"
He thought about it for a moment. "I've thought about it a lot," he admitted. "It would make things easier for Boxey, that's for sure. We might even be able to do a formal adoption if we were married. And it would eliminate the possibility of disciplinary action," he added. She had laid her head back down on his chest without answering, so he played his final card. "And I want to be with you, always. Doesn't it make sense to marry the woman of your dreams? It does to me."
She waited a moment before she lifted her head up to look at him. This time the tears were on her cheeks, not in her eyes. "Are you asking me to marry you?" she whispered.
He kissed her lips gently. "I love you," he said simply. "I want you to marry me. Yes, I'm asking."
"Then I'll answer," she told him with a grin. "Yes, I'll marry you. I love you. And I love Boxey. And I always wanted to be a part of a family."
He kissed her again, more deeply this time, before pulling back and resting his forehead against hers. "That was worse than taking on a Cylon," he muttered.
She grinned at him. "You knew I'd answer yes," she told him. "You had to know that."
"I hoped," he told her simply.
"I love you," she reminded him.
"I love you, Sharon."