Chapter 5
Kara Thrace looked around her and wondered now her life had come to this - sitting alone in a three by six-foot shelter when the sky looked more like rain every minute.
The fire that had blown out her engine had taken her supplies as well. In general, it wasn't a terribly big issue. They always packed more than necessary into the survival packs that the long-range Vipers carried, so it wasn't like they were going to starve eating only Lee's supplies. It also wasn't as though she hadn't shared space with others on many occasions. During training, this would be generous space for three warriors, and they would just have to deal with it.
No, what bothered Kara about the situation was that she was effectively grounded, awaiting rescue like one of those helpless maidens in a child's story. Kara did not like being out of control of her own destiny. She liked even less that there was nothing she could do about it.
Lee had taken his Viper to the originally planned landing site to check on water quality and natural foliage. He had also planned to scout out Tylium deposits in hope of finding fuel for the fleet. Their scanners had picked up nothing in the way of life forms, with the exception of sparse vegetation, so there was no need to be concerned about Kara's safety. His leaving while she set up a shelter and did her best to patch together her own viper was simply common sense.
But she hated it.
It had taken her only minutes to set up the shelter. She had spent more than an hour working on the engine, and wasn't happy with what she'd found. Aside from the cause of the explosion being beyond her scope, she was also faced with the damage that the fire had done to the interior of her Viper. There had been melting of some necessary structures, and even patched she wouldn't trust it outside a planetary atmosphere. Again, nothing tragic. Once the Galactica was back within range, Lee would head up and send back a crew to collect her and the Viper. Very routine, actually, even if the explosion hadn't been.
But she hated it.
Here she sat, dry inside the shelter, as the rain started in earnest. The temperature had dropped significantly, but she was still too sore to put her pressure suit back on for the warmth. Instead, she'd tugged out a survival cover to keep herself warm as she sat there - just sat there - and waited for Lee to get back.
This was pathetic.
Just as she was edging into another bout of self-pity, she heard the roar of Lee's engines and looked out the flap of the shelter to see his smooth descent. Just great. She should really be the stereotypical female and have the meal waiting on him as well. She'd sooner fly her own damaged Viper into the nearest black hole. She'd be damned if she'd be a stereotype.
"Wet!" Lee announced unnecessarily as he slid into the shelter, shaking off water as he did so. Great. Now they were both wet.
"Easy on that," she complained, handing him a towel to dry off. He did so quickly, then tugged off the upper half of his flight suit to dry off his chest and arms. He elbowed her once or twice in the process, compliments of confined quarters, but otherwise didn't respond.
"You're a grump," he finally informed her. "I take it the repairs didn't go well."
"Nothing I'd trust outside the atmosphere," she admitted in defeat. "I'm effectively grounded."
"I would have grounded you anyway," he said simply. "The seal on your helmet is faulty, or you wouldn't have gotten a face full of smoke.
She nodded at that. "I rapped it on the side of the cockpit during the explosion. Dented it almost as much as my thick skull."
"You hit your head?" he said in alarm, immediately coming up on his knees and reaching over to feel around in her hair, apparently looking for lumps or bumps.
"I'm fine," she told him, pulling back from his touch and backing into the shelter side in the process. "I didn't black out, no dizziness, and it doesn't hurt now. The helmet took the brunt of it. That's why the seal's broke."
He sighed and reluctantly eased back to rest on his legs. "It doesn't hurt to check. I don't want you getting sick on me."
"I'm fine. So quit treating me like a cadet and tell me what you found out."
He took a deep breath, letting it out in another sigh. "High acid content in both the soil and the water. It explains the lack of vegetation, anyway. The plants are no less than poison. We can probably use the water, if we treat it first to bring down the acidity, but colonization is out of the question."
"Frak," she told him simply.
"That's about it," he concluded.
"Well, when you find a planet free of habitation, chances are there's a good reason. That's why we were sent ahead."
"I know, but I was hoping."
She looked at him for a moment, confused. "You planning to settle down?" she asked with a grin.
"No, but a lot of people would like to, and I'd like to get some of the civilians off the Galactica. It's a fighting ship, not a housing complex."
"It is a little crowded."
He didn't comment to that, just looked out the shelter opening into the pouring rain. "I take it your supplies weren't salvageable."
"Yeah."
"So are you going to share my food, or what?"
She grinned at that. "I wasn't hungry. It's still in the pack."
He looked around until he spotted the survival pack and dug around inside until he found the nutritional pouches. It took him only a few moments to rip open the packaging and devour the food. She supposed it had been a long day.
"So, you'll fly back at first light?"
He shook his head. "Depends on the weather. I have the cockpit sealed, but I'd rather not fly from here to the Galactica wet. If we get short on time or supplies I can, but otherwise we're better off to stay here until it's clear."
She nodded. "Sounds good. Well, not good, but as good a plan as we can come up with out of this mess."
"You're taking this too personally," he told her. "It could just have easily been my Viper that blew. It's one reason we always double-up on probes. Well, that and the Cylons."
She nodded, but didn't speak again. Lee finished a second package of food, then dug in the bag some more for the first-aid kit. He held up the tube of ointment that he had used on her back before he'd left to check out the planet, and she wordlessly turned around and dropped the top half of her flight suit. He applied the medication with a minimum of fuss, told her it was looking better, and then settled in to sleep.
It took Kara a long time to settle in and get comfortable. It had been a while since she'd shared space during sleeping, and while there was familiarity in the quiet breathing solid warmth at her back, her mind just couldn't stop wishing that it was Zak.
She turned and struggled as usual in the dream, trying to get out of it. While Kara knew it wasn't real, couldn't be happening, a part of her mind knew that it had happened. The bodies of friends floated through space, her home world exploded, Zak looked up at her from a coffin, and children stood around her laughing. It was as though every bad thing that had ever happened was happening at once. She knew it wasn't real, but getting away was impossible. She finally focused in on the one thing that was strong enough to push out the others. Zak. She had failed him. She had killed him. It was all her fault.
She awoke not to a quiet quarters and tangled blankets, but to a gentle whisper and strong, warm arms. She was disoriented for a moment, so she just held on to the words, the voice.
"It's okay, Kara. It's a dream. It's not real. It's just a dream."
Lee repeated the words over and over, his arms wrapped solidly around her. She wanted to pull away from him, but there was something so familiar in his solid chest against her face and his strong arms around her that she just couldn't let go.
She held on, taking gulping breaths, not quite able to shake the dream. It was real, or it had been. It had been her fault. "I passed him," she explained in a sob, needing to do something to get the pressure out of her chest and hoping the words would do it. "It's my fault. It's all my fault."
"It was an accident," Lee told her softly. "You didn't mean it. I know you didn't mean it."
The soft kiss she felt on the top of her head was her undoing. She had held herself together for two years, and she just couldn't do it anymore. Here, in the muffled silence of a rainy night, in the arms of the man that should have been her brother, she cried.
She didn't know how long she cried. She knew it was long enough that her throat was sore and her chest ached. She knew it was long enough that she ran out of tears, leaving nothing but dry sobs that shook her to her soul. She knew that it was long enough for the sun to begin to come up, and for the rain to ease, but not stop. She knew it was long enough to scour her out, but not long enough to heal her.
It was long enough for her to be thoroughly embarrassed about her actions.
Finally, as she became still, able to think again if not quite able to feel, she was once more aware of the strong arms around her and the warmth she rested against. She became aware that she had just lost all composure, all professionalism, in the arms of the man she respected above most others in the world. She became aware of just how weak she was, and how ashamed she should be.
She pushed back from Lee, with absolutely no clue what she could say to fix this. She didn't know what words could explain what had just happened, or if her voice would even work to form words. She knew she had to do something, say something, to fix this. She couldn't lose this friendship that she had depended on for so many years. He was all she really had left of her childhood, at least all she was willing to admit to.
Pushing back against his embrace, she peeked up to face him. She figured that the faster she did this, the sooner it would be over. She took a deep breath, and opened her eyes to meet his.
But his eyes weren't open. Words were knocked from her chest as she took in the sight of Lee just as torn apart as she was. Tears flowed freely from closed eyes, his jaw held tightly to keep his silence. She looked for a moment more, half-sure that she must still be dreaming, because Lee never cried. Never.
Finally, she slid her arms around him and held him as tightly as he was holding her, sharing something that only the two of them really understood: saying goodbye to Zak.
Kara awoke with puffy eyes and a sore throat, but at least the rain had stopped. She didn't know when she had fallen asleep, but she was glad to see that Lee had done so, too. He was still sleeping, for that matter, looking peaceful and younger than he had in years.
She should have been uncomfortable in his arms. She knew that. She'd never really let anyone hold her, except maybe Zak when she'd been feeling particularly generous. It hadn't been anything against Zak, but rather vague discomfort that she never could place. Maybe it was from a memory, or even a nightmare, but she just didn't like to feel closed in. She had hugged William Adama and his wife dozens of times over the years, but she never stayed in the embrace. It just wasn't her. It was all she could do to tolerate the confines of her own Viper until they managed to launch her, allowing the openness of space to ease the claustrophobia.
But here she was in Lee's arms, just as comfortable as if she were back in her quarters, in her own bunk. It didn't make sense to her. She didn't know if it ever would.
Lee muttered slightly as she eased herself away and sat up near the opening to the shelter, but he didn't wake up. A quick peak outside showed a steady downpour of rain that obscured her view of the Vipers and the surrounding terrain. If he did as he said, Lee wouldn't be going anywhere today.
She looked back at him to be sure she hadn't disturbed him with her motion, undeniably grateful that they hadn't woken up together, face to face, with more questions than answers between them. He'd been there for her, yes, and she hoped he felt that she'd been there for him. But it didn't change who they were, or what was between them. She loved Lee, but there was nothing romantic about it, and never had been. She was pretty confident that he felt the same way.
That didn't mean that she was immune to him. He was a very good-looking man, although he resembled his father far more than Zak had. His demeanor was also unlike Zak, in that he wasn't the type to goof off or joke around. He had a sense of humor, but it was subtle and sarcastic. He wasn't the type to screw around just to have a good time. He was very much like his mother.
Not that she meant to compare, but Zak had been far more like his mother than his father. Sweet and silly, he'd been able to get a smile out of her when nothing else could. He'd taken life lightly, casually. She supposed it was his youth that had kept her from getting irritated with his lack of drive. He was three years her junior, but he'd never felt like a kid to her. Still, he'd been much too young to die.
He was gone, and it was her fault. Regardless of what Lee said, the decision to put him in that plane came back to her, and even if the accident was just that, his involvement was her responsibility. She knew she would always carry a measure of guilt over his death, but at least now she wasn't also carrying the fear that Lee or William would turn against her because of it. They had been able to forgive her, even when she wasn't ready to forgive herself.
Lee shifted, rolling onto his back and putting his arm over his eyes before settling back down to sleep. It had been a long night, and he might be a while before he was ready to wake up. That was fine with her. Because, for all her realization, she still had absolutely no clue what she should say to him.
Kara Thrace looked around her and wondered now her life had come to this - sitting alone in a three by six-foot shelter when the sky looked more like rain every minute.
The fire that had blown out her engine had taken her supplies as well. In general, it wasn't a terribly big issue. They always packed more than necessary into the survival packs that the long-range Vipers carried, so it wasn't like they were going to starve eating only Lee's supplies. It also wasn't as though she hadn't shared space with others on many occasions. During training, this would be generous space for three warriors, and they would just have to deal with it.
No, what bothered Kara about the situation was that she was effectively grounded, awaiting rescue like one of those helpless maidens in a child's story. Kara did not like being out of control of her own destiny. She liked even less that there was nothing she could do about it.
Lee had taken his Viper to the originally planned landing site to check on water quality and natural foliage. He had also planned to scout out Tylium deposits in hope of finding fuel for the fleet. Their scanners had picked up nothing in the way of life forms, with the exception of sparse vegetation, so there was no need to be concerned about Kara's safety. His leaving while she set up a shelter and did her best to patch together her own viper was simply common sense.
But she hated it.
It had taken her only minutes to set up the shelter. She had spent more than an hour working on the engine, and wasn't happy with what she'd found. Aside from the cause of the explosion being beyond her scope, she was also faced with the damage that the fire had done to the interior of her Viper. There had been melting of some necessary structures, and even patched she wouldn't trust it outside a planetary atmosphere. Again, nothing tragic. Once the Galactica was back within range, Lee would head up and send back a crew to collect her and the Viper. Very routine, actually, even if the explosion hadn't been.
But she hated it.
Here she sat, dry inside the shelter, as the rain started in earnest. The temperature had dropped significantly, but she was still too sore to put her pressure suit back on for the warmth. Instead, she'd tugged out a survival cover to keep herself warm as she sat there - just sat there - and waited for Lee to get back.
This was pathetic.
Just as she was edging into another bout of self-pity, she heard the roar of Lee's engines and looked out the flap of the shelter to see his smooth descent. Just great. She should really be the stereotypical female and have the meal waiting on him as well. She'd sooner fly her own damaged Viper into the nearest black hole. She'd be damned if she'd be a stereotype.
"Wet!" Lee announced unnecessarily as he slid into the shelter, shaking off water as he did so. Great. Now they were both wet.
"Easy on that," she complained, handing him a towel to dry off. He did so quickly, then tugged off the upper half of his flight suit to dry off his chest and arms. He elbowed her once or twice in the process, compliments of confined quarters, but otherwise didn't respond.
"You're a grump," he finally informed her. "I take it the repairs didn't go well."
"Nothing I'd trust outside the atmosphere," she admitted in defeat. "I'm effectively grounded."
"I would have grounded you anyway," he said simply. "The seal on your helmet is faulty, or you wouldn't have gotten a face full of smoke.
She nodded at that. "I rapped it on the side of the cockpit during the explosion. Dented it almost as much as my thick skull."
"You hit your head?" he said in alarm, immediately coming up on his knees and reaching over to feel around in her hair, apparently looking for lumps or bumps.
"I'm fine," she told him, pulling back from his touch and backing into the shelter side in the process. "I didn't black out, no dizziness, and it doesn't hurt now. The helmet took the brunt of it. That's why the seal's broke."
He sighed and reluctantly eased back to rest on his legs. "It doesn't hurt to check. I don't want you getting sick on me."
"I'm fine. So quit treating me like a cadet and tell me what you found out."
He took a deep breath, letting it out in another sigh. "High acid content in both the soil and the water. It explains the lack of vegetation, anyway. The plants are no less than poison. We can probably use the water, if we treat it first to bring down the acidity, but colonization is out of the question."
"Frak," she told him simply.
"That's about it," he concluded.
"Well, when you find a planet free of habitation, chances are there's a good reason. That's why we were sent ahead."
"I know, but I was hoping."
She looked at him for a moment, confused. "You planning to settle down?" she asked with a grin.
"No, but a lot of people would like to, and I'd like to get some of the civilians off the Galactica. It's a fighting ship, not a housing complex."
"It is a little crowded."
He didn't comment to that, just looked out the shelter opening into the pouring rain. "I take it your supplies weren't salvageable."
"Yeah."
"So are you going to share my food, or what?"
She grinned at that. "I wasn't hungry. It's still in the pack."
He looked around until he spotted the survival pack and dug around inside until he found the nutritional pouches. It took him only a few moments to rip open the packaging and devour the food. She supposed it had been a long day.
"So, you'll fly back at first light?"
He shook his head. "Depends on the weather. I have the cockpit sealed, but I'd rather not fly from here to the Galactica wet. If we get short on time or supplies I can, but otherwise we're better off to stay here until it's clear."
She nodded. "Sounds good. Well, not good, but as good a plan as we can come up with out of this mess."
"You're taking this too personally," he told her. "It could just have easily been my Viper that blew. It's one reason we always double-up on probes. Well, that and the Cylons."
She nodded, but didn't speak again. Lee finished a second package of food, then dug in the bag some more for the first-aid kit. He held up the tube of ointment that he had used on her back before he'd left to check out the planet, and she wordlessly turned around and dropped the top half of her flight suit. He applied the medication with a minimum of fuss, told her it was looking better, and then settled in to sleep.
It took Kara a long time to settle in and get comfortable. It had been a while since she'd shared space during sleeping, and while there was familiarity in the quiet breathing solid warmth at her back, her mind just couldn't stop wishing that it was Zak.
She turned and struggled as usual in the dream, trying to get out of it. While Kara knew it wasn't real, couldn't be happening, a part of her mind knew that it had happened. The bodies of friends floated through space, her home world exploded, Zak looked up at her from a coffin, and children stood around her laughing. It was as though every bad thing that had ever happened was happening at once. She knew it wasn't real, but getting away was impossible. She finally focused in on the one thing that was strong enough to push out the others. Zak. She had failed him. She had killed him. It was all her fault.
She awoke not to a quiet quarters and tangled blankets, but to a gentle whisper and strong, warm arms. She was disoriented for a moment, so she just held on to the words, the voice.
"It's okay, Kara. It's a dream. It's not real. It's just a dream."
Lee repeated the words over and over, his arms wrapped solidly around her. She wanted to pull away from him, but there was something so familiar in his solid chest against her face and his strong arms around her that she just couldn't let go.
She held on, taking gulping breaths, not quite able to shake the dream. It was real, or it had been. It had been her fault. "I passed him," she explained in a sob, needing to do something to get the pressure out of her chest and hoping the words would do it. "It's my fault. It's all my fault."
"It was an accident," Lee told her softly. "You didn't mean it. I know you didn't mean it."
The soft kiss she felt on the top of her head was her undoing. She had held herself together for two years, and she just couldn't do it anymore. Here, in the muffled silence of a rainy night, in the arms of the man that should have been her brother, she cried.
She didn't know how long she cried. She knew it was long enough that her throat was sore and her chest ached. She knew it was long enough that she ran out of tears, leaving nothing but dry sobs that shook her to her soul. She knew that it was long enough for the sun to begin to come up, and for the rain to ease, but not stop. She knew it was long enough to scour her out, but not long enough to heal her.
It was long enough for her to be thoroughly embarrassed about her actions.
Finally, as she became still, able to think again if not quite able to feel, she was once more aware of the strong arms around her and the warmth she rested against. She became aware that she had just lost all composure, all professionalism, in the arms of the man she respected above most others in the world. She became aware of just how weak she was, and how ashamed she should be.
She pushed back from Lee, with absolutely no clue what she could say to fix this. She didn't know what words could explain what had just happened, or if her voice would even work to form words. She knew she had to do something, say something, to fix this. She couldn't lose this friendship that she had depended on for so many years. He was all she really had left of her childhood, at least all she was willing to admit to.
Pushing back against his embrace, she peeked up to face him. She figured that the faster she did this, the sooner it would be over. She took a deep breath, and opened her eyes to meet his.
But his eyes weren't open. Words were knocked from her chest as she took in the sight of Lee just as torn apart as she was. Tears flowed freely from closed eyes, his jaw held tightly to keep his silence. She looked for a moment more, half-sure that she must still be dreaming, because Lee never cried. Never.
Finally, she slid her arms around him and held him as tightly as he was holding her, sharing something that only the two of them really understood: saying goodbye to Zak.
Kara awoke with puffy eyes and a sore throat, but at least the rain had stopped. She didn't know when she had fallen asleep, but she was glad to see that Lee had done so, too. He was still sleeping, for that matter, looking peaceful and younger than he had in years.
She should have been uncomfortable in his arms. She knew that. She'd never really let anyone hold her, except maybe Zak when she'd been feeling particularly generous. It hadn't been anything against Zak, but rather vague discomfort that she never could place. Maybe it was from a memory, or even a nightmare, but she just didn't like to feel closed in. She had hugged William Adama and his wife dozens of times over the years, but she never stayed in the embrace. It just wasn't her. It was all she could do to tolerate the confines of her own Viper until they managed to launch her, allowing the openness of space to ease the claustrophobia.
But here she was in Lee's arms, just as comfortable as if she were back in her quarters, in her own bunk. It didn't make sense to her. She didn't know if it ever would.
Lee muttered slightly as she eased herself away and sat up near the opening to the shelter, but he didn't wake up. A quick peak outside showed a steady downpour of rain that obscured her view of the Vipers and the surrounding terrain. If he did as he said, Lee wouldn't be going anywhere today.
She looked back at him to be sure she hadn't disturbed him with her motion, undeniably grateful that they hadn't woken up together, face to face, with more questions than answers between them. He'd been there for her, yes, and she hoped he felt that she'd been there for him. But it didn't change who they were, or what was between them. She loved Lee, but there was nothing romantic about it, and never had been. She was pretty confident that he felt the same way.
That didn't mean that she was immune to him. He was a very good-looking man, although he resembled his father far more than Zak had. His demeanor was also unlike Zak, in that he wasn't the type to goof off or joke around. He had a sense of humor, but it was subtle and sarcastic. He wasn't the type to screw around just to have a good time. He was very much like his mother.
Not that she meant to compare, but Zak had been far more like his mother than his father. Sweet and silly, he'd been able to get a smile out of her when nothing else could. He'd taken life lightly, casually. She supposed it was his youth that had kept her from getting irritated with his lack of drive. He was three years her junior, but he'd never felt like a kid to her. Still, he'd been much too young to die.
He was gone, and it was her fault. Regardless of what Lee said, the decision to put him in that plane came back to her, and even if the accident was just that, his involvement was her responsibility. She knew she would always carry a measure of guilt over his death, but at least now she wasn't also carrying the fear that Lee or William would turn against her because of it. They had been able to forgive her, even when she wasn't ready to forgive herself.
Lee shifted, rolling onto his back and putting his arm over his eyes before settling back down to sleep. It had been a long night, and he might be a while before he was ready to wake up. That was fine with her. Because, for all her realization, she still had absolutely no clue what she should say to him.