Chapter 7
Chief Tyrol sat in a chair beside his wife's bed. She still wasn't awake, but that wasn't what bothered him. The whole stupid situation; that was what bothered him. All the fuss and worry for nothing.
Sharon was fine. The doctor had assured him that she was as human as the rest of them. He didn't have an explanation for the Cylon duplicates, but stranger coincidences had happened. They could all sit back, relax, and wait for the arrival of a new baby in six-and-a-half months.
But it didn't take away the last few days. It didn't take away the fear that he had seen in her eyes, and it didn't take away the desperation she'd shown. It didn't take away the way she'd been treated - guards and guns and prison cells. It didn't take away his remaining under house arrest, either. That had been a tough one to explain to Boxey. And it didn't take that away - the fear in his little boy's eyes when he thought he would lose another mother. They hadn't even told him the worst of it, only that she was suspected of doing something wrong that she really hadn't done, but he had been frightened all the same.
The only thing that made any of it better was the secrecy with which it had been done. At the very least, rumors weren't flying around the Galactica about their suspicions. Tigh himself had called in all the men who had been down on the planet and set them straight about Boomer's humanity. They had been instructed in no uncertain terms that no one was to spread any information to the contrary. Tigh had even apologized to both him and Boxey, saying he had made a mistake and he was sorry it had worried them. A part of him could even understand why it had happened. Not forgive, but understand.
But it wasn't the part that was a husband. The husband part just wished it had never happened. He wished he could just take her home and take her to bed, which wouldn't really solve anything but would make him feel a hell of a lot better. Instead, he was stuck here, in a sterile room, waiting for her to wake up. Okay, so maybe it did bother him.
He sat there another hour before Sharon finally started stirring. He felt it first when she squeezed the hand that was holding hers, and then her eyes opened and she faced him. He watched the awareness come into her eyes slowly, and then he saw her smile.
"Good morning," he whispered.
"I'm okay?" she asked. "I'm not."
"You're my wife," he answered simply. "And you're as human as I am, although I'm not sure that's saying much."
Her smile widened. "You're sure?" she asked, and he hated the uncertainty in her voice that was warring with the pleasure on her face.
"They can't explain the planet," he told her gently. "But it doesn't matter. It's a long way from here, now. You're gonna be fine. They even moved the guards out when they were sure."
Her eyes closed in grateful relief. He had to admit to feeling some himself. He hadn't believed it for a moment - it absolutely couldn't be true - but he was grateful for the proof of it. They wouldn't suspect her again. They wouldn't threaten her again. For that certainty, he supposed a little hole wasn't too much to go through.
"How do you feel?" he asked her.
"Tired," she admitted. "My head hurts a little. Everything kind of hurts, to tell the truth. Mostly, I'm just tired."
He nodded. They had told him she might have a headache following the surgery. "I'll have them get you something for pain," he told her. "It might make you sleep again."
She shook her head with a deliberate carefulness that he recognized. "It's not that bad," she told him. "It was a lot worse when we were dragging Apollo through the woods."
"I bet."
"Is he okay?"
Tyrol took a deep breath before answering. "I'm not sure," he admitted. "I've pretty much been here. I haven't heard one way or the other. But the Commander's been by a couple of times, and he didn't seem too upset, so I don't think he's too bad off."
"Then it was worth it," she concluded.
"Was it?"
"There's nothing we can do to change it," she said softly. "So there's no reason to whine about it."
"Maybe."
"How's Boxey holding up?"
He shrugged one shoulder. "They won't let kids in the Life Station, so he's staying with friends. He was mad that they put you here without letting him see you first. I think he'll be okay once you're out, though. He's a tough kid."
She squeezed the hand that was still holding hers. "He's had to be," she reminded him.
"I wonder how he's gonna feel about a little brother or sister?"
She smiled at that. "We were right?"
"Yeah. The doc even did a scan while he had you out. He said everything looks good. He even took pictures, if you want to see them later."
She shook her head carefully. "I've had enough of pictures for a while," she admitted. "I'll take your word for it."
He just smiled at her. Then she let out a heavy sigh. "What?"
"I'm off flight status," she told him. "They won't let me fly pregnant."
"It's not a permanent condition," he reminded her. "But you may not want to go back after the baby's born. We'll wait and see."
Her smile was soft and warm. "The baby," she murmured quietly. "Our baby."
"Our baby," he agreed, and leaned forward to give her the kiss he had wanted to since he'd walked into the room.
Kara shifted painfully in the chair and glanced back at the bed. He was still out. They had told her it might be a day or more before he was really alert - if that soon - but she didn't want to leave. He might wake up, and she didn't want to miss it.
Her back was killing her. Her neck didn't feel very good either. She supposed Sharon was probably feeling the same aches and pains. Lee might be lean, but he wasn't light. It had taken pretty much all of their considerable strength to get him to the Raptor. She planned to tease him about that when she got the chance. Or maybe not. She didn't want him to think she was complaining.
Shifting her weight again, trying to relieve the pressure to her back, she failed to find a comfortable position. She had thought about asking for something, but she was already tired and knew that anything would put her out. The doc had checked her over, and hadn't found anything more than a bunch of scratches she had received in the brush and some mild fatigue and dehydration. She hadn't been really worried about it, but it had been good to hear.
Much of Lee's problem had been the same thing. He'd been dehydrated - probably from the flight, despite their best efforts - and from there had gone into shock when he was cold and in pain. The doc couldn't tell her if he would have made it much longer or not, but he had been grateful they found him when they did. The bleeding from his leg had been caused as much by her and Sharon's pulling him through the woods as the shot he'd taken. And while he had been cold, he hadn't yet truly been hypothermic. The shock had been the worst of it. It had been why his body shut down.
But they had still almost lost him on the trip back. When the Raptor had landed, his breathing had been so shallow and his heart so slow that the cold was probably all that had saved him. She was grateful that the doctors were quick, and the technicians qualified. The doc had promised her that he would be fine. A little frostbite, a little dehydration, but he would be fine.
So why wasn't he waking up?
They hadn't been able to answer that question. The doc had just told her that they couldn't predict when he would wake, and he would do it when he was ready. So here she sat. Waiting. Still.
"How you feeling?"
The gravelly voice came from behind her and she stood both quickly and painfully. She couldn't hide the wince, but she answered with a clear, "I'm fine, Sir."
"Sit down, Starbuck," he told her gently. "We're not in CIC."
She nodded, but still felt uncomfortable. That was a switch. She hadn't felt uncomfortable around this man since she'd been about six years old. "Yes, Sir," she repeated, and gratefully sank back down to the chair.
"Still asleep?" he asked as he walked to the edge of the bed.
"Yeah."
"You should be doing the same thing," he told her with a sideways glance.
"I will," she assured him. "When I'm sure he'll be okay."
Adama nodded, and reached out to pull the warming wrap up more firmly about Lee's shoulders. He didn't speak for a long time. He stood there, looking at his son, deep in thought. Kara didn't interrupt. She kept looking over at Lee herself, just for the reassurance that he was here and he was alive. It was as though if she looked away, Lee would just be an illusion.
"I didn't thank you," the Commander said softly, not looking at her. "I should have."
"I disobeyed orders," she reasoned. "You can't exactly thank me for that."
"Maybe not, but you also brought him back. I thought I'd lost him," he murmured, then turned to face her. "Again."
She didn't know what she should say to that, so she kept her silence.
"You were right," he finally told her. "He was alive. He wouldn't have been much longer. And I suppose it should bother me more that you ignored regulations to do it. But I'm just glad to have him back."
She nodded. She felt the same way.
"It can't happen again. My hands were tied. If Saul hadn't stepped in."
"I understand," she interrupted. "I thanked him."
"I'm glad, but that isn't going to solve the problem. You cannot disregard orders. Not even when it's personal. Sometimes there are things more important than anyone, even your family. Sometimes we have to look at the good of the people. It's a hard lesson, but it's one you have to learn. No one - not even Lee, as much as I love him - is worth risking the fleet for. Not you, not me, and not anybody else."
"Yes, Sir," she replied softly.
He turned back to Lee and smoothed the covers over him again. Then he turned to face her. "You need to get some sleep. He'll be here when you wake up."
She took a deep breath before she spoke, knowing that she was taking a chance. "I would rather stay," she told him. "I'm off duty for the next two days - it's regulation after a long patrol - so it really doesn't matter if I wait a while to sleep. I'll go if it's an order, but if it's not I want to stay."
"I won't order you to leave," he said gently. "But as your Commander I recommend it."
"And as Lee's dad?"
He gave her a careful smile. "Let me know when he wakes up. I am on duty in a few hours, and I should at least try to sleep between now and then."
"I will," she answered. She stood again as he left the room, not just because it was proper form and he was her Commander, but because she had more respect for him now than she ever had. He wasn't letting her off the hook - not that she had expected he would - and the discussion was probably not over, but at the very least he sounded like he understood.
As it turned out, she did sleep a little - off and on - in the chair. It wasn't comfortable, but she didn't care. A few hours later, her wait was rewarded as Lee began to move around some. He shifted uncomfortably and shoved the blanket away. She stood up and went over to cover him back up. As she reached for the warming cloth, she felt his hand on hers.
"Hey," he croaked softly. He didn't have much of a voice.
She found that her throat was too tight for words. This was what she had waited for, what she had threatened the fleet for, but now that it had happened it was all she could do to keep herself together.
"The fleet?" he asked.
"We're fine. The jump went off without a hitch about twelve hours ago. Everyone's refueled, and we're on the way to a planet that's rich in raw tylium. We'll be set in a few weeks.
He nodded, relief clear on his features, then asked, "Are you okay?"
"That should be my question," she finally said as she turned her hand over to hold his tightly. "You gave us a pretty good scare."
His eyes closed and she could almost see the wheels turning in his head as he tried to put the pieces together. She knew the moment coherence hit, because his eyes opened and he stared at her directly. "I'm alive," he stated unnecessarily.
"Looks that way," she agreed.
He turned his head slightly to take in his surroundings, his hand tightening on hers as he did so. She didn't mind. She'd give him whatever time he needed. She'd give him whatever she could. "How?"
She closed her eyes, knowing she couldn't face him for this. "We'll talk about it when you're better," she suggested hopefully. "It's a long story."
He was silent for a long time. So long that she finally opened her eyes to look at him. When she made eye contact, he spoke. "I'm not going anywhere, so you may as well tell me now."
So much for getting out of this. "Sharon and I jumped back in the Raptor," she explained. "We checked the only spot with low life signs in the forest, and found you huddled in that rock. We brought you back."
She could tell by the look in his eyes that he wasn't buying it. He knew very well what the mission had been, and what it had not entailed. "You took a Raptor back to a Cylon base?"
"No," she answered. "We stayed clear of the base. We came in by the Vipers."
He closed his eyes again and she thought for a moment that he was going back to sleep. She thought about going to get the chair, but she couldn't bring herself to let go of his hand. So she stood there, with him resting and her heart beating entirely too fast. She had no clue why.
"That was a stupid thing to do," he finally said. His eyes opened slowly, but she couldn't meet them.
"So I've been told," she admitted. "Repeatedly."
"And loudly, I'd imagine." At her nod he continued, "How much trouble are you in?"
"Enough," she said softly. "Don't worry about it. I kept my wings, and there's no court martial planned. I don't think your father has decided what to do about it."
"That bad?"
"Yeah," she admitted. "It's over. I'll take the consequences."
"You always have," he said on a sigh. "You spend more time in the brig than in your bunk."
"Hey, I've been pretty good lately," she corrected
"But when you blow it, you blow it big."
She had known he would react this way. He had spent most of his youth getting her out of one jam or another, and as an adult had watched with either silence or humor as she made a mess of her career. But so long as she didn't cross certain lines, he kept his mouth shut and his opinions to himself. She supposed she couldn't blame him for speaking out this time. It had been his mission. He knew what was supposed to happen, what wasn't, and how serious going back could be.
"I know," she said softly. "But I can't tell you I'm sorry."
He squeezed her hand again and she closed her eyes to try to stop the tears that were starting. She didn't have much success, so she used her free hand to brush them away quickly. She must be too tired, she reasoned. She didn't cry. Well, she didn't cry often. Lately she'd set some new records.
"I'll tell you what I told your father," she said with a sniffle and another useless swipe at the tears on her face. "I'm sorry for putting the fleet in danger, but I won't apologize for going back. I couldn't leave you there. I." She stopped before she could embarrass herself further.
Lee released her hand to reach up and brush a few of the tears away himself. He wasn't anymore successful than she had been, but he didn't take his hand away. He left it there, settled on her cheek with his fingers reaching up into her hair.
She could have pulled away. She could have turned around and walked out so that he didn't see her this way. But this was Lee, and he'd seen her fall apart before. He'd held her when she lost herself over Zak, and he had never laughed at her or made it into a joke. He had simply held her, grieving with her, just as she had held him. He understood. He had always understood.
She hadn't cried much as a child. She had been tough by necessity. But there were times when she would be so furious at cruel children, or so upset about not being able to do something she wanted to, that she just lost control. He had always been the one to dry her tears with his no- nonsense attitude and remind her that she was fine. Zak had teased her out of the low moods, so they often came back at the worst possible times, but Lee had just let them run their course, handed her a towel, and then asked if she was okay. He hadn't judged, and hadn't often lectured. He had just been there.
And that was exactly what he was doing now. He wasn't talking, wasn't yelling, and he wasn't judging. He was just there. And this, she knew, was why she couldn't leave him to die. This was why she had risked everything to keep him with her.
Gradually the tears did stop, and she sniffed a stuffy nose and rubbed dry her puffy eyes. She tried to give him a smile, and to let him know she was fine, but she didn't have it in her. She didn't know if she was fine. He must have known it to, because for the first time in memory he didn't ask her if she was okay.
When the tears had run their course, and she could once again breathe through her stuffy nose, he ran a thumb over her cheekbone before lowering his hand. "You need to get some sleep," he told her softly.
She nodded, but she didn't leave. She just reached down and took his hand back in both of hers and held on. "You need to sleep, too."
His mouth quirked at that. "I'm the one in a bed," he reminded her.
She shrugged one shoulder but still didn't leave.
"At least sit down," he suggested.
She decided she could live with that. She reached back with one foot, wincing as she stretched her back and neck in just the wrong way, and pulled the chair over to sit on. She did so tentatively, never taking her hands off his.
He had the good sense not to try to run her out. He just let her hold his hand and closed his eyes to sleep. She sat there for a long time, watching his steady breathing and sleep softened expression. Still, she couldn't bring herself to leave. She needed to call down to CIC and leave a message for his father that he was awake. She should probably let the doctor know as well, just in case there was anything they needed to do. Come to think of it, she probably needed to get her uniform changed because she was feeling more than a little itchy.
But what she did was scoot up close to the bed, tighten her grip on Lee's hand, and lay her head down on her arms. In moments, she was sound asleep.
Chief Tyrol sat in a chair beside his wife's bed. She still wasn't awake, but that wasn't what bothered him. The whole stupid situation; that was what bothered him. All the fuss and worry for nothing.
Sharon was fine. The doctor had assured him that she was as human as the rest of them. He didn't have an explanation for the Cylon duplicates, but stranger coincidences had happened. They could all sit back, relax, and wait for the arrival of a new baby in six-and-a-half months.
But it didn't take away the last few days. It didn't take away the fear that he had seen in her eyes, and it didn't take away the desperation she'd shown. It didn't take away the way she'd been treated - guards and guns and prison cells. It didn't take away his remaining under house arrest, either. That had been a tough one to explain to Boxey. And it didn't take that away - the fear in his little boy's eyes when he thought he would lose another mother. They hadn't even told him the worst of it, only that she was suspected of doing something wrong that she really hadn't done, but he had been frightened all the same.
The only thing that made any of it better was the secrecy with which it had been done. At the very least, rumors weren't flying around the Galactica about their suspicions. Tigh himself had called in all the men who had been down on the planet and set them straight about Boomer's humanity. They had been instructed in no uncertain terms that no one was to spread any information to the contrary. Tigh had even apologized to both him and Boxey, saying he had made a mistake and he was sorry it had worried them. A part of him could even understand why it had happened. Not forgive, but understand.
But it wasn't the part that was a husband. The husband part just wished it had never happened. He wished he could just take her home and take her to bed, which wouldn't really solve anything but would make him feel a hell of a lot better. Instead, he was stuck here, in a sterile room, waiting for her to wake up. Okay, so maybe it did bother him.
He sat there another hour before Sharon finally started stirring. He felt it first when she squeezed the hand that was holding hers, and then her eyes opened and she faced him. He watched the awareness come into her eyes slowly, and then he saw her smile.
"Good morning," he whispered.
"I'm okay?" she asked. "I'm not."
"You're my wife," he answered simply. "And you're as human as I am, although I'm not sure that's saying much."
Her smile widened. "You're sure?" she asked, and he hated the uncertainty in her voice that was warring with the pleasure on her face.
"They can't explain the planet," he told her gently. "But it doesn't matter. It's a long way from here, now. You're gonna be fine. They even moved the guards out when they were sure."
Her eyes closed in grateful relief. He had to admit to feeling some himself. He hadn't believed it for a moment - it absolutely couldn't be true - but he was grateful for the proof of it. They wouldn't suspect her again. They wouldn't threaten her again. For that certainty, he supposed a little hole wasn't too much to go through.
"How do you feel?" he asked her.
"Tired," she admitted. "My head hurts a little. Everything kind of hurts, to tell the truth. Mostly, I'm just tired."
He nodded. They had told him she might have a headache following the surgery. "I'll have them get you something for pain," he told her. "It might make you sleep again."
She shook her head with a deliberate carefulness that he recognized. "It's not that bad," she told him. "It was a lot worse when we were dragging Apollo through the woods."
"I bet."
"Is he okay?"
Tyrol took a deep breath before answering. "I'm not sure," he admitted. "I've pretty much been here. I haven't heard one way or the other. But the Commander's been by a couple of times, and he didn't seem too upset, so I don't think he's too bad off."
"Then it was worth it," she concluded.
"Was it?"
"There's nothing we can do to change it," she said softly. "So there's no reason to whine about it."
"Maybe."
"How's Boxey holding up?"
He shrugged one shoulder. "They won't let kids in the Life Station, so he's staying with friends. He was mad that they put you here without letting him see you first. I think he'll be okay once you're out, though. He's a tough kid."
She squeezed the hand that was still holding hers. "He's had to be," she reminded him.
"I wonder how he's gonna feel about a little brother or sister?"
She smiled at that. "We were right?"
"Yeah. The doc even did a scan while he had you out. He said everything looks good. He even took pictures, if you want to see them later."
She shook her head carefully. "I've had enough of pictures for a while," she admitted. "I'll take your word for it."
He just smiled at her. Then she let out a heavy sigh. "What?"
"I'm off flight status," she told him. "They won't let me fly pregnant."
"It's not a permanent condition," he reminded her. "But you may not want to go back after the baby's born. We'll wait and see."
Her smile was soft and warm. "The baby," she murmured quietly. "Our baby."
"Our baby," he agreed, and leaned forward to give her the kiss he had wanted to since he'd walked into the room.
Kara shifted painfully in the chair and glanced back at the bed. He was still out. They had told her it might be a day or more before he was really alert - if that soon - but she didn't want to leave. He might wake up, and she didn't want to miss it.
Her back was killing her. Her neck didn't feel very good either. She supposed Sharon was probably feeling the same aches and pains. Lee might be lean, but he wasn't light. It had taken pretty much all of their considerable strength to get him to the Raptor. She planned to tease him about that when she got the chance. Or maybe not. She didn't want him to think she was complaining.
Shifting her weight again, trying to relieve the pressure to her back, she failed to find a comfortable position. She had thought about asking for something, but she was already tired and knew that anything would put her out. The doc had checked her over, and hadn't found anything more than a bunch of scratches she had received in the brush and some mild fatigue and dehydration. She hadn't been really worried about it, but it had been good to hear.
Much of Lee's problem had been the same thing. He'd been dehydrated - probably from the flight, despite their best efforts - and from there had gone into shock when he was cold and in pain. The doc couldn't tell her if he would have made it much longer or not, but he had been grateful they found him when they did. The bleeding from his leg had been caused as much by her and Sharon's pulling him through the woods as the shot he'd taken. And while he had been cold, he hadn't yet truly been hypothermic. The shock had been the worst of it. It had been why his body shut down.
But they had still almost lost him on the trip back. When the Raptor had landed, his breathing had been so shallow and his heart so slow that the cold was probably all that had saved him. She was grateful that the doctors were quick, and the technicians qualified. The doc had promised her that he would be fine. A little frostbite, a little dehydration, but he would be fine.
So why wasn't he waking up?
They hadn't been able to answer that question. The doc had just told her that they couldn't predict when he would wake, and he would do it when he was ready. So here she sat. Waiting. Still.
"How you feeling?"
The gravelly voice came from behind her and she stood both quickly and painfully. She couldn't hide the wince, but she answered with a clear, "I'm fine, Sir."
"Sit down, Starbuck," he told her gently. "We're not in CIC."
She nodded, but still felt uncomfortable. That was a switch. She hadn't felt uncomfortable around this man since she'd been about six years old. "Yes, Sir," she repeated, and gratefully sank back down to the chair.
"Still asleep?" he asked as he walked to the edge of the bed.
"Yeah."
"You should be doing the same thing," he told her with a sideways glance.
"I will," she assured him. "When I'm sure he'll be okay."
Adama nodded, and reached out to pull the warming wrap up more firmly about Lee's shoulders. He didn't speak for a long time. He stood there, looking at his son, deep in thought. Kara didn't interrupt. She kept looking over at Lee herself, just for the reassurance that he was here and he was alive. It was as though if she looked away, Lee would just be an illusion.
"I didn't thank you," the Commander said softly, not looking at her. "I should have."
"I disobeyed orders," she reasoned. "You can't exactly thank me for that."
"Maybe not, but you also brought him back. I thought I'd lost him," he murmured, then turned to face her. "Again."
She didn't know what she should say to that, so she kept her silence.
"You were right," he finally told her. "He was alive. He wouldn't have been much longer. And I suppose it should bother me more that you ignored regulations to do it. But I'm just glad to have him back."
She nodded. She felt the same way.
"It can't happen again. My hands were tied. If Saul hadn't stepped in."
"I understand," she interrupted. "I thanked him."
"I'm glad, but that isn't going to solve the problem. You cannot disregard orders. Not even when it's personal. Sometimes there are things more important than anyone, even your family. Sometimes we have to look at the good of the people. It's a hard lesson, but it's one you have to learn. No one - not even Lee, as much as I love him - is worth risking the fleet for. Not you, not me, and not anybody else."
"Yes, Sir," she replied softly.
He turned back to Lee and smoothed the covers over him again. Then he turned to face her. "You need to get some sleep. He'll be here when you wake up."
She took a deep breath before she spoke, knowing that she was taking a chance. "I would rather stay," she told him. "I'm off duty for the next two days - it's regulation after a long patrol - so it really doesn't matter if I wait a while to sleep. I'll go if it's an order, but if it's not I want to stay."
"I won't order you to leave," he said gently. "But as your Commander I recommend it."
"And as Lee's dad?"
He gave her a careful smile. "Let me know when he wakes up. I am on duty in a few hours, and I should at least try to sleep between now and then."
"I will," she answered. She stood again as he left the room, not just because it was proper form and he was her Commander, but because she had more respect for him now than she ever had. He wasn't letting her off the hook - not that she had expected he would - and the discussion was probably not over, but at the very least he sounded like he understood.
As it turned out, she did sleep a little - off and on - in the chair. It wasn't comfortable, but she didn't care. A few hours later, her wait was rewarded as Lee began to move around some. He shifted uncomfortably and shoved the blanket away. She stood up and went over to cover him back up. As she reached for the warming cloth, she felt his hand on hers.
"Hey," he croaked softly. He didn't have much of a voice.
She found that her throat was too tight for words. This was what she had waited for, what she had threatened the fleet for, but now that it had happened it was all she could do to keep herself together.
"The fleet?" he asked.
"We're fine. The jump went off without a hitch about twelve hours ago. Everyone's refueled, and we're on the way to a planet that's rich in raw tylium. We'll be set in a few weeks.
He nodded, relief clear on his features, then asked, "Are you okay?"
"That should be my question," she finally said as she turned her hand over to hold his tightly. "You gave us a pretty good scare."
His eyes closed and she could almost see the wheels turning in his head as he tried to put the pieces together. She knew the moment coherence hit, because his eyes opened and he stared at her directly. "I'm alive," he stated unnecessarily.
"Looks that way," she agreed.
He turned his head slightly to take in his surroundings, his hand tightening on hers as he did so. She didn't mind. She'd give him whatever time he needed. She'd give him whatever she could. "How?"
She closed her eyes, knowing she couldn't face him for this. "We'll talk about it when you're better," she suggested hopefully. "It's a long story."
He was silent for a long time. So long that she finally opened her eyes to look at him. When she made eye contact, he spoke. "I'm not going anywhere, so you may as well tell me now."
So much for getting out of this. "Sharon and I jumped back in the Raptor," she explained. "We checked the only spot with low life signs in the forest, and found you huddled in that rock. We brought you back."
She could tell by the look in his eyes that he wasn't buying it. He knew very well what the mission had been, and what it had not entailed. "You took a Raptor back to a Cylon base?"
"No," she answered. "We stayed clear of the base. We came in by the Vipers."
He closed his eyes again and she thought for a moment that he was going back to sleep. She thought about going to get the chair, but she couldn't bring herself to let go of his hand. So she stood there, with him resting and her heart beating entirely too fast. She had no clue why.
"That was a stupid thing to do," he finally said. His eyes opened slowly, but she couldn't meet them.
"So I've been told," she admitted. "Repeatedly."
"And loudly, I'd imagine." At her nod he continued, "How much trouble are you in?"
"Enough," she said softly. "Don't worry about it. I kept my wings, and there's no court martial planned. I don't think your father has decided what to do about it."
"That bad?"
"Yeah," she admitted. "It's over. I'll take the consequences."
"You always have," he said on a sigh. "You spend more time in the brig than in your bunk."
"Hey, I've been pretty good lately," she corrected
"But when you blow it, you blow it big."
She had known he would react this way. He had spent most of his youth getting her out of one jam or another, and as an adult had watched with either silence or humor as she made a mess of her career. But so long as she didn't cross certain lines, he kept his mouth shut and his opinions to himself. She supposed she couldn't blame him for speaking out this time. It had been his mission. He knew what was supposed to happen, what wasn't, and how serious going back could be.
"I know," she said softly. "But I can't tell you I'm sorry."
He squeezed her hand again and she closed her eyes to try to stop the tears that were starting. She didn't have much success, so she used her free hand to brush them away quickly. She must be too tired, she reasoned. She didn't cry. Well, she didn't cry often. Lately she'd set some new records.
"I'll tell you what I told your father," she said with a sniffle and another useless swipe at the tears on her face. "I'm sorry for putting the fleet in danger, but I won't apologize for going back. I couldn't leave you there. I." She stopped before she could embarrass herself further.
Lee released her hand to reach up and brush a few of the tears away himself. He wasn't anymore successful than she had been, but he didn't take his hand away. He left it there, settled on her cheek with his fingers reaching up into her hair.
She could have pulled away. She could have turned around and walked out so that he didn't see her this way. But this was Lee, and he'd seen her fall apart before. He'd held her when she lost herself over Zak, and he had never laughed at her or made it into a joke. He had simply held her, grieving with her, just as she had held him. He understood. He had always understood.
She hadn't cried much as a child. She had been tough by necessity. But there were times when she would be so furious at cruel children, or so upset about not being able to do something she wanted to, that she just lost control. He had always been the one to dry her tears with his no- nonsense attitude and remind her that she was fine. Zak had teased her out of the low moods, so they often came back at the worst possible times, but Lee had just let them run their course, handed her a towel, and then asked if she was okay. He hadn't judged, and hadn't often lectured. He had just been there.
And that was exactly what he was doing now. He wasn't talking, wasn't yelling, and he wasn't judging. He was just there. And this, she knew, was why she couldn't leave him to die. This was why she had risked everything to keep him with her.
Gradually the tears did stop, and she sniffed a stuffy nose and rubbed dry her puffy eyes. She tried to give him a smile, and to let him know she was fine, but she didn't have it in her. She didn't know if she was fine. He must have known it to, because for the first time in memory he didn't ask her if she was okay.
When the tears had run their course, and she could once again breathe through her stuffy nose, he ran a thumb over her cheekbone before lowering his hand. "You need to get some sleep," he told her softly.
She nodded, but she didn't leave. She just reached down and took his hand back in both of hers and held on. "You need to sleep, too."
His mouth quirked at that. "I'm the one in a bed," he reminded her.
She shrugged one shoulder but still didn't leave.
"At least sit down," he suggested.
She decided she could live with that. She reached back with one foot, wincing as she stretched her back and neck in just the wrong way, and pulled the chair over to sit on. She did so tentatively, never taking her hands off his.
He had the good sense not to try to run her out. He just let her hold his hand and closed his eyes to sleep. She sat there for a long time, watching his steady breathing and sleep softened expression. Still, she couldn't bring herself to leave. She needed to call down to CIC and leave a message for his father that he was awake. She should probably let the doctor know as well, just in case there was anything they needed to do. Come to think of it, she probably needed to get her uniform changed because she was feeling more than a little itchy.
But what she did was scoot up close to the bed, tighten her grip on Lee's hand, and lay her head down on her arms. In moments, she was sound asleep.