Chapter 6
Lee awoke a long time before he opened his eyes. There was no real reason to rush to get up. He heard rain outside the shelter intermittently, and until they could get clear weather for half an hour or more he really didn't feel it was worth trying to get into the Viper. It would be different if there were lightning, or if the fleet were closer, but they weren't scheduled to meet up with the Galactica for another day.
He peeked out from beneath his arm, the dim light in the shelter seeming unnaturally bright. It hurt slightly to open his eyes, and his head hurt the way it had when he'd shared a bottle of ambrosia with another pilot a few months before. He remembered swearing that he'd never drink again. Now, he remembered why. He wished last night had been as much fun as the last time.
He watched Kara for a moment as she sat by the opening of the shelter. She was sitting quietly, just thinking, and he couldn't help thinking that she looked a lot calmer than she had in a long while. He felt that way himself.
Lee had never really grieved for his brother. He'd been sad, and shocked, and for the longest time he'd been absolutely furious. He'd blamed his father so well, for so long, that the feelings for losing Zak never had time to sink in. Since he'd found out the truth, and had even forgiven his father, his mind and heart had really been in limbo. Anger was the only emotion strong enough to block the pain. He didn't have anyone to be angry with, so he'd just ignored the situation, like the rest of the crew, having no time for anything but survival. A part of him even wanted to stay angry, but he didn't have it in him to be angry with Kara.
If he'd had any lingering reservations about her love for his brother, last night had sent them up in flames. He had never planned to get so emotionally wrecked himself, but had just been reaching out to a friend. He wished he were more sorry that it had gotten out of hand.
He knew that Kara had nightmares. Hell, all of them had nightmares. Living in the warriors quarters, sleeping habits of fellow pilots became very obvious. Jolly woke up screaming at least once a week, and more than once he'd had his own difficult night. They had been through a great deal - far more than he ever thought they would survive - and it was bound to hit them when they were asleep. They didn't have time to grieve for their pasts when they were awake, so their subconscious would work overtime.
But knowing that she had nightmares with the rest of them and watching her gasp and struggle in the midst of a nightmare were two different things. He had almost been able to resist trying to comfort her, knowing that she wouldn't be likely to appreciate the effort, until he'd heard his brother's name. When she had started crying out for Zak, he just hadn't had a choice.
So he'd done his best to wake her up. In the confines of the shelter, it was only practical to put his arms around her. Once he'd done that, the rest had come easily. It had surprised him, really. He wasn't one for the sappy stuff, and he'd never been one to accept comfort himself. A warrior managed on his own, and he'd become adept at it over the years. Aside from that, he'd never been a tactile person. He hadn't always been comfortable when Zak and Kara had their hands on one another, thinking that it belonged in private rather than in public. It was old fashioned, and probably something else he'd gotten from his father, but it was how he felt.
But what he accepted for himself was not what he wanted for Kara. She'd been hurting, and he had just wanted to end her torment. Once he'd heard her voice, heard the way she blamed herself, he hadn't been able to leave her to it. He still found it odd that the very pain he wished on his father, the responsibility and regret, were things he could not bear to have a friend feel. What kind of a son did that make him?
He guessed she needed it. What he hadn't known was that he needed it as well. He hadn't realized how bad he had felt, the regrets he had, until some of them had been released. The relief was enormous, even if it left him with a headache and an uncomfortable distance now between him and his only real friend.
Unfortunately he was left with the morning after. Kara had never acted like a typical woman, either professionally or personally. But last night he'd been reminded that she was indeed a woman, and more than that she was Zak's fiancée. And somewhere in that realization, he found that it didn't matter. She was still his friend, and he wanted to be hers.
When Zak's Viper had taken out the inside of a hanger bay, Lee had lost a brother and a good friend. His father had lost a beloved son. But Kara had lost not only friend and lover, but her future as well. If Zak had lived, he and Kara might have children by now. She might not even be a pilot. She might have been on Caprica during the attack, and she might be dead. She most likely wouldn't have been on the Galactica, because it wasn't until after Zak's death that his father started keeping her so close. Well, he couldn't blame his father for that. Kara was the only child he'd had left. That had been Lee's choice.
There were a thousand "maybes" about the situation, and he knew that there was no point in going over each and every one of them. What had happened was done, and it had been over for two years. But for them, it had definitely not been over last night.
He wasn't sure how many hours they had lain there and cried, but at some point she had fallen into an exhausted sleep. He had continued to hold her for awhile, and he wasn't sure exactly why. He didn't know if she had needed it, but he supposed that he had. He'd always envied Zak that one thing - the freedom to just hold someone. Lee had never been that close to anyone. He'd never been jealous - not exactly - but he'd wanted to find someone that could give him that kind of comfort.
Comfort or not, Kara had definitely given him something last night. She'd given him her trust, and he wouldn't abuse it by pretending it had never happened. The morning might not be comfortable, but it could not be ignored.
"Good morning," he said quietly. He was reluctant to face what was sure to be a difficult situation, but he was more reluctant to allow any more distance to come between them. He'd had enough of that when they were at odds over his father. He didn't want to go back.
"Hey," she replied, looking over at him. She didn't look angry. That could be a good sign.
"How late is it?"
She glanced down at her watch. "Eleven-hundred," she finally replied.
"Later than I thought," he admitted. "I thought the rain had stopped."
"It did. Then it started again. Then it stopped. Now it's just kind of drizzling."
"Great," he told her, sarcasm clear in his voice. "Remind me not to complain about water shortages when we get back to the Galactica. I don't feel like I'll ever get dry."
She grinned back at him. "You don't want to shower with this stuff. It stings. Must be the acidity level."
"Tell me about it," he mumbled, just now noticing the irritation to his skin around his waist. He had taken off his pressure suit in the atmosphere, and hadn't bothered to put it back on. While most of his clothing had dried following his drenching, the thicker areas of his uniform hadn't dried completely from mere body heat.
"You burned?" she asked him.
"Just tender," he replied, adjusting the material about his waist. "How about you? How does your back feel?"
"Fine," she told him, rolling her shoulders as though to prove it. "That cream really worked."
"Salek's finest," he agreed. "The good doctor should have been a chemist."
She nodded at that and turned back to watch as the rain picked up once more. He watched her profile, wondering how best to approach this without getting punched. Finally, he went with the direct approach.
"About last night," he began.
"Don't."
"Kara."
"No," she said firmly. She turned around and faced him directly. "Look, I know it was - well, it wasn't me. But I'm glad if I had to come apart, it was you that had to see me. Just don't tell your father."
"You had a right to come apart," he told her. "More right than most of us. But I don't know what my father has to do with it."
She took a deep breath. "He worries," she finally said. It explained a great deal.
"Tell you what," he offered, reaching over and taking her hand in his. "I won't tell him, if you won't."
She thought about that a minute, then squeezed his hand and nodded. "It'll do."
Lee returned the nod, feeling a deep sense of relief, but not letting go. He continued to hold her hand, because he wasn't finished. "You miss him?" He knew he didn't have to tell her whom he was talking about.
"Of coarse," she admitted, but her voice was steady. "Every day. Mostly at night." She took a deep breath before looking him straight in the eye. "I missed you, too."
He gave her a half-hearted grin. "I'm sorry. Losing him was hard enough. I know I didn't make it any easier by tearing apart what was left of our family. All I can say is that I did what I thought was right. Or maybe not right, but the only thing I thought I could do."
"Right after," she told him, her hand tightening almost painfully on his, "I couldn't even think. I figured that if I didn't have Zak, there wasn't a point. I went to my quarters, closed the door, and went to bed.
"I don't even remember how long I was there. I just remember your dad coming in and telling me I'd been reassigned. He packed my stuff, took me by the hand, and hauled me off to the Galactica. He kept Chief Tyrol after me to be sure I was eating. He'd come into the officer's mess and gripe at me nonstop. At first, I just ate to shut him up. A couple of the guys ribbed me into running with them, to get me to leave my quarters, and I swear your dad was behind that, too.
"Once I was back on my feet, your dad gave me every mission, every training flight, and every opportunity to get into a Viper that there was. I hated it. I didn't ever want to get back into one, but I couldn't tell him 'no', not after everything he'd done. He kept me working so much that I barely had time to sleep, and didn't have any time to dream, nightmares or otherwise. I barely had time to miss him.
"When flying wasn't an option, he stuck me down in the bay doing routine repairs with Calli and the rest. Learned a lot about Vipers with them. The more I learned about how it all went together, the easier flying got. Gradually it just became natural again, and I didn't think about him every time I got in the cockpit."
She paused, looking sheepish about saying so much. Now that he thought about it, he hadn't heard her talk so much since they were kids. But then, there hadn't been so much misunderstood between them since then.
"I didn't know it was so hard for you," he admitted. "I mean, I knew it had to be hard, but I never really thought of how it would change everything."
She shrugged. "If your dad hadn't absolutely made me live, I think I would have died in that bed before I was ready to do anything for myself. He saved my life, Lee, and he never even let me thank him. Every time I try, he just cuts me off."
"I should have been there," Lee said softly. "I shouldn't have run."
"You did what you had to."
"I'm glad someone was there for you. And I'm glad you were there for him. I made it so much worse for him than it had to be."
"In a way, we both did. And we didn't. I think he spent so much time taking care of me, and worrying about you, that it kind of kept him going. That and the Galactica, of course. He had a reason to make himself get up everyday, and after a while you get up and do your job by habit. Then it hurts less."
"Or maybe, you just don't notice it as much," he suggested.
"Maybe."
Lee sat for a few moments, taking simple comfort from Kara's undemanding presence and generous trust. She had given him a lot to think about, and he was pretty sure it was something she hadn't shared with anyone else. In her way, she was as private as he was. She talked a lot, sure, but most of it was joking around or doing her best to cause trouble. She didn't normally talk about anything serious. It was easy to forget that her feelings ran deep. He was absurdly glad she had reminded him.
"I've been mad for so long that I don't know how else to be," he told her. "Now I just feel empty."
"I know the feeling," she agreed. "And in time, you fill the hole with other things. It isn't the same, but it gets you through the days."
"And the nights?"
She smiled, squeezing his hand again. "The nights, you just get through any way you can. And sometimes, if you're lucky, you find someone who makes it a little easier because they really care."
He nodded. "The rain has stopped."
She looked out, letting him off the hook, and letting him change the subject. Falling apart at night was one thing, but in the light of day they both needed to hold it together.
"That's your cue," she said softly, releasing his hand with a final squeeze. "Don't forget I'm here when you get to the Galactica."
"Do you want to take my ship?" he offered. After all, he was flight leader, and technically it was his responsibility to ensure the safety of his team. He couldn't do that if he left her behind.
"She's your ship," she said with a smile, referring to the Mach II that had once been his father's, and how carried his own name and call sign. "Just be sure you send someone back for me. This place is boring as hell."
Lee reached for his pressure suit, unzipping his uniform as he did so. There was no telling how long the rain would stop, and he wanted a few minutes to check over his Viper to be sure the acidity hadn't compromised any seals before he went back to the Galactica. Kara sat looking out of the shelter while he changed.
"Anything you want me to bring back?" he asked her as he zipped his flight suit over the pressure suit. "Besides a rescue crew, that is?"
"Nah, I'm fine," she told him with a smile. "Maybe sitting here for a couple of hours will do me good."
He nodded his agreement, and then paused as he was leaving the shelter. "I know the long-range is a risk, but if you need it, your wireless is still operational. I checked it before I came in last night."
"And my gun's in the bag. I'll keep it close," she assured him. "Don't worry, Lee. I'll be fine."
He still didn't feel entirely good about leaving her, but there was no other way to manage this that he could think of. She wouldn't take his ship unless he ordered her, and there was no real reason to do it. She was just as capable of defending herself as he was, should there be a need, and in an emergency she could use the long-range wireless and have help jump to her in minutes. Ordering her to take his place would inadvertently show her that he didn't trust her, and that was far from the truth.
"It'll take me under an hour to reach the fleet, and just over that to get back. Give us another hour to set up a ship. That's three, so if you haven't heard back in four I want you to use the long-range, regardless of the consequences. Got it?"
"Got it," she agreed. "You're not back by seventeen-hundred, and I call for help."
She walked him to his Viper, helping him check seals and go over the pre- flight checklist quickly and efficiently. Then she stood back near the shelter while he closed his cockpit and ignited his engines. He didn't look back to see if she waved goodbye, but instead put his finger on the turbo thrust button. The sooner he got back to the Galactica, the sooner he could come back and get her.
Lee awoke a long time before he opened his eyes. There was no real reason to rush to get up. He heard rain outside the shelter intermittently, and until they could get clear weather for half an hour or more he really didn't feel it was worth trying to get into the Viper. It would be different if there were lightning, or if the fleet were closer, but they weren't scheduled to meet up with the Galactica for another day.
He peeked out from beneath his arm, the dim light in the shelter seeming unnaturally bright. It hurt slightly to open his eyes, and his head hurt the way it had when he'd shared a bottle of ambrosia with another pilot a few months before. He remembered swearing that he'd never drink again. Now, he remembered why. He wished last night had been as much fun as the last time.
He watched Kara for a moment as she sat by the opening of the shelter. She was sitting quietly, just thinking, and he couldn't help thinking that she looked a lot calmer than she had in a long while. He felt that way himself.
Lee had never really grieved for his brother. He'd been sad, and shocked, and for the longest time he'd been absolutely furious. He'd blamed his father so well, for so long, that the feelings for losing Zak never had time to sink in. Since he'd found out the truth, and had even forgiven his father, his mind and heart had really been in limbo. Anger was the only emotion strong enough to block the pain. He didn't have anyone to be angry with, so he'd just ignored the situation, like the rest of the crew, having no time for anything but survival. A part of him even wanted to stay angry, but he didn't have it in him to be angry with Kara.
If he'd had any lingering reservations about her love for his brother, last night had sent them up in flames. He had never planned to get so emotionally wrecked himself, but had just been reaching out to a friend. He wished he were more sorry that it had gotten out of hand.
He knew that Kara had nightmares. Hell, all of them had nightmares. Living in the warriors quarters, sleeping habits of fellow pilots became very obvious. Jolly woke up screaming at least once a week, and more than once he'd had his own difficult night. They had been through a great deal - far more than he ever thought they would survive - and it was bound to hit them when they were asleep. They didn't have time to grieve for their pasts when they were awake, so their subconscious would work overtime.
But knowing that she had nightmares with the rest of them and watching her gasp and struggle in the midst of a nightmare were two different things. He had almost been able to resist trying to comfort her, knowing that she wouldn't be likely to appreciate the effort, until he'd heard his brother's name. When she had started crying out for Zak, he just hadn't had a choice.
So he'd done his best to wake her up. In the confines of the shelter, it was only practical to put his arms around her. Once he'd done that, the rest had come easily. It had surprised him, really. He wasn't one for the sappy stuff, and he'd never been one to accept comfort himself. A warrior managed on his own, and he'd become adept at it over the years. Aside from that, he'd never been a tactile person. He hadn't always been comfortable when Zak and Kara had their hands on one another, thinking that it belonged in private rather than in public. It was old fashioned, and probably something else he'd gotten from his father, but it was how he felt.
But what he accepted for himself was not what he wanted for Kara. She'd been hurting, and he had just wanted to end her torment. Once he'd heard her voice, heard the way she blamed herself, he hadn't been able to leave her to it. He still found it odd that the very pain he wished on his father, the responsibility and regret, were things he could not bear to have a friend feel. What kind of a son did that make him?
He guessed she needed it. What he hadn't known was that he needed it as well. He hadn't realized how bad he had felt, the regrets he had, until some of them had been released. The relief was enormous, even if it left him with a headache and an uncomfortable distance now between him and his only real friend.
Unfortunately he was left with the morning after. Kara had never acted like a typical woman, either professionally or personally. But last night he'd been reminded that she was indeed a woman, and more than that she was Zak's fiancée. And somewhere in that realization, he found that it didn't matter. She was still his friend, and he wanted to be hers.
When Zak's Viper had taken out the inside of a hanger bay, Lee had lost a brother and a good friend. His father had lost a beloved son. But Kara had lost not only friend and lover, but her future as well. If Zak had lived, he and Kara might have children by now. She might not even be a pilot. She might have been on Caprica during the attack, and she might be dead. She most likely wouldn't have been on the Galactica, because it wasn't until after Zak's death that his father started keeping her so close. Well, he couldn't blame his father for that. Kara was the only child he'd had left. That had been Lee's choice.
There were a thousand "maybes" about the situation, and he knew that there was no point in going over each and every one of them. What had happened was done, and it had been over for two years. But for them, it had definitely not been over last night.
He wasn't sure how many hours they had lain there and cried, but at some point she had fallen into an exhausted sleep. He had continued to hold her for awhile, and he wasn't sure exactly why. He didn't know if she had needed it, but he supposed that he had. He'd always envied Zak that one thing - the freedom to just hold someone. Lee had never been that close to anyone. He'd never been jealous - not exactly - but he'd wanted to find someone that could give him that kind of comfort.
Comfort or not, Kara had definitely given him something last night. She'd given him her trust, and he wouldn't abuse it by pretending it had never happened. The morning might not be comfortable, but it could not be ignored.
"Good morning," he said quietly. He was reluctant to face what was sure to be a difficult situation, but he was more reluctant to allow any more distance to come between them. He'd had enough of that when they were at odds over his father. He didn't want to go back.
"Hey," she replied, looking over at him. She didn't look angry. That could be a good sign.
"How late is it?"
She glanced down at her watch. "Eleven-hundred," she finally replied.
"Later than I thought," he admitted. "I thought the rain had stopped."
"It did. Then it started again. Then it stopped. Now it's just kind of drizzling."
"Great," he told her, sarcasm clear in his voice. "Remind me not to complain about water shortages when we get back to the Galactica. I don't feel like I'll ever get dry."
She grinned back at him. "You don't want to shower with this stuff. It stings. Must be the acidity level."
"Tell me about it," he mumbled, just now noticing the irritation to his skin around his waist. He had taken off his pressure suit in the atmosphere, and hadn't bothered to put it back on. While most of his clothing had dried following his drenching, the thicker areas of his uniform hadn't dried completely from mere body heat.
"You burned?" she asked him.
"Just tender," he replied, adjusting the material about his waist. "How about you? How does your back feel?"
"Fine," she told him, rolling her shoulders as though to prove it. "That cream really worked."
"Salek's finest," he agreed. "The good doctor should have been a chemist."
She nodded at that and turned back to watch as the rain picked up once more. He watched her profile, wondering how best to approach this without getting punched. Finally, he went with the direct approach.
"About last night," he began.
"Don't."
"Kara."
"No," she said firmly. She turned around and faced him directly. "Look, I know it was - well, it wasn't me. But I'm glad if I had to come apart, it was you that had to see me. Just don't tell your father."
"You had a right to come apart," he told her. "More right than most of us. But I don't know what my father has to do with it."
She took a deep breath. "He worries," she finally said. It explained a great deal.
"Tell you what," he offered, reaching over and taking her hand in his. "I won't tell him, if you won't."
She thought about that a minute, then squeezed his hand and nodded. "It'll do."
Lee returned the nod, feeling a deep sense of relief, but not letting go. He continued to hold her hand, because he wasn't finished. "You miss him?" He knew he didn't have to tell her whom he was talking about.
"Of coarse," she admitted, but her voice was steady. "Every day. Mostly at night." She took a deep breath before looking him straight in the eye. "I missed you, too."
He gave her a half-hearted grin. "I'm sorry. Losing him was hard enough. I know I didn't make it any easier by tearing apart what was left of our family. All I can say is that I did what I thought was right. Or maybe not right, but the only thing I thought I could do."
"Right after," she told him, her hand tightening almost painfully on his, "I couldn't even think. I figured that if I didn't have Zak, there wasn't a point. I went to my quarters, closed the door, and went to bed.
"I don't even remember how long I was there. I just remember your dad coming in and telling me I'd been reassigned. He packed my stuff, took me by the hand, and hauled me off to the Galactica. He kept Chief Tyrol after me to be sure I was eating. He'd come into the officer's mess and gripe at me nonstop. At first, I just ate to shut him up. A couple of the guys ribbed me into running with them, to get me to leave my quarters, and I swear your dad was behind that, too.
"Once I was back on my feet, your dad gave me every mission, every training flight, and every opportunity to get into a Viper that there was. I hated it. I didn't ever want to get back into one, but I couldn't tell him 'no', not after everything he'd done. He kept me working so much that I barely had time to sleep, and didn't have any time to dream, nightmares or otherwise. I barely had time to miss him.
"When flying wasn't an option, he stuck me down in the bay doing routine repairs with Calli and the rest. Learned a lot about Vipers with them. The more I learned about how it all went together, the easier flying got. Gradually it just became natural again, and I didn't think about him every time I got in the cockpit."
She paused, looking sheepish about saying so much. Now that he thought about it, he hadn't heard her talk so much since they were kids. But then, there hadn't been so much misunderstood between them since then.
"I didn't know it was so hard for you," he admitted. "I mean, I knew it had to be hard, but I never really thought of how it would change everything."
She shrugged. "If your dad hadn't absolutely made me live, I think I would have died in that bed before I was ready to do anything for myself. He saved my life, Lee, and he never even let me thank him. Every time I try, he just cuts me off."
"I should have been there," Lee said softly. "I shouldn't have run."
"You did what you had to."
"I'm glad someone was there for you. And I'm glad you were there for him. I made it so much worse for him than it had to be."
"In a way, we both did. And we didn't. I think he spent so much time taking care of me, and worrying about you, that it kind of kept him going. That and the Galactica, of course. He had a reason to make himself get up everyday, and after a while you get up and do your job by habit. Then it hurts less."
"Or maybe, you just don't notice it as much," he suggested.
"Maybe."
Lee sat for a few moments, taking simple comfort from Kara's undemanding presence and generous trust. She had given him a lot to think about, and he was pretty sure it was something she hadn't shared with anyone else. In her way, she was as private as he was. She talked a lot, sure, but most of it was joking around or doing her best to cause trouble. She didn't normally talk about anything serious. It was easy to forget that her feelings ran deep. He was absurdly glad she had reminded him.
"I've been mad for so long that I don't know how else to be," he told her. "Now I just feel empty."
"I know the feeling," she agreed. "And in time, you fill the hole with other things. It isn't the same, but it gets you through the days."
"And the nights?"
She smiled, squeezing his hand again. "The nights, you just get through any way you can. And sometimes, if you're lucky, you find someone who makes it a little easier because they really care."
He nodded. "The rain has stopped."
She looked out, letting him off the hook, and letting him change the subject. Falling apart at night was one thing, but in the light of day they both needed to hold it together.
"That's your cue," she said softly, releasing his hand with a final squeeze. "Don't forget I'm here when you get to the Galactica."
"Do you want to take my ship?" he offered. After all, he was flight leader, and technically it was his responsibility to ensure the safety of his team. He couldn't do that if he left her behind.
"She's your ship," she said with a smile, referring to the Mach II that had once been his father's, and how carried his own name and call sign. "Just be sure you send someone back for me. This place is boring as hell."
Lee reached for his pressure suit, unzipping his uniform as he did so. There was no telling how long the rain would stop, and he wanted a few minutes to check over his Viper to be sure the acidity hadn't compromised any seals before he went back to the Galactica. Kara sat looking out of the shelter while he changed.
"Anything you want me to bring back?" he asked her as he zipped his flight suit over the pressure suit. "Besides a rescue crew, that is?"
"Nah, I'm fine," she told him with a smile. "Maybe sitting here for a couple of hours will do me good."
He nodded his agreement, and then paused as he was leaving the shelter. "I know the long-range is a risk, but if you need it, your wireless is still operational. I checked it before I came in last night."
"And my gun's in the bag. I'll keep it close," she assured him. "Don't worry, Lee. I'll be fine."
He still didn't feel entirely good about leaving her, but there was no other way to manage this that he could think of. She wouldn't take his ship unless he ordered her, and there was no real reason to do it. She was just as capable of defending herself as he was, should there be a need, and in an emergency she could use the long-range wireless and have help jump to her in minutes. Ordering her to take his place would inadvertently show her that he didn't trust her, and that was far from the truth.
"It'll take me under an hour to reach the fleet, and just over that to get back. Give us another hour to set up a ship. That's three, so if you haven't heard back in four I want you to use the long-range, regardless of the consequences. Got it?"
"Got it," she agreed. "You're not back by seventeen-hundred, and I call for help."
She walked him to his Viper, helping him check seals and go over the pre- flight checklist quickly and efficiently. Then she stood back near the shelter while he closed his cockpit and ignited his engines. He didn't look back to see if she waved goodbye, but instead put his finger on the turbo thrust button. The sooner he got back to the Galactica, the sooner he could come back and get her.