Chapter 8
His leg hurt, his hands were sore, and his back was stiff. But Lee Adama really didn't care anything about that. He was alive, when he had no right to be. Complaining about the state of that life was not only pointless, but it was also ungrateful.
He shifted his body once more, finding balance on the awkward crutches, and wincing as they rubbed against the bare skin under his arms. He had managed to get his undershirt on, and the bottom part of his uniform, but the top was hanging down from where the buckle secured his pants at his waist. It wasn't regulation, but he didn't figure it was anything to be worried about.
But he did have things on his mind that worried him, and they would not be pushed onto the back burner much longer. Kara wasn't doing very well. Physically, she was fine, but mentally she was on some kind of a down slope that had him very concerned. She hadn't left his hospital room for more than a few minutes at any point since he'd awoken. She nibbled a few bites off the plates they brought him, but she refused to really eat. She laid her head down on her arms when he slept, but she never really went to sleep herself. For three days, she had been his shadow and while he loved the company, he didn't know what had put her in this frame of mind. She wasn't even reporting for duty, and while apparently that wasn't an issue, neither was it like her.
Kara had been in trouble of one kind or another since he'd known her. She was always either mouthing off to a teacher, questioning a patrol officer, or hitting a kid that got on her nerves. She tended to strike first and think later, and it was part of that nature that made her so damn good in the cockpit. It was hell on a career though. She knew that. And he also knew that she had accepted that part of herself along with all the rest.
Kara simply wasn't an average woman. She never would be. She wouldn't dress up in high heels and fancy gowns, and she'd never paint her face or her fingernails. She didn't have patience for that stuff, and as a young man he'd been very grateful not to have to put up with a "sister" that was like the ones he heard about all the time. Kara had been just like him and Zak - ready for action and ready to get things done.
Okay, perhaps he'd been irritated a time or two because she couldn't follow a rule even when it held her hand. She would look at the book and then deliberately do the opposite just because she could. It didn't matter that her way was often better, as a youth he'd been disgusted that she couldn't just comply with what the rest of them did. In fact, he'd resented more than once that her unorthodox approach got her rewarded as much as it got her into trouble.
But he'd still been a friend, and brother, and even a partner in crime when she offered him the opportunity because there was something undeniably attractive about the attention she received. She had managed to get things done, and he'd admired that. She still did. And despite the danger she had placed the fleet in, and despite her own reaction to the crimes she'd committed, he couldn't help but be grateful that she had thought enough of him to come back. If he could have changed it - changed the laws she'd broken or the guilt she was mired in - he would have. But the final outcome was something he felt he could live with. She would get over whatever was taking her apart, and when she did things would be back to normal.
That was all in the future, though. For the present, he was doing his best to get used to crutches in order to support the weight that his leg did not want to bear. The shot hadn't really been deep, but it had been more than a flesh wound. It had burned through muscle and nerve tissue, and it would be a long time in healing. He couldn't help being thankful that Kara had given him the time he needed to heal.
He had finally run her out of his room. There was no way he was going to manage a top bunk, and no bottom bunks available in quarters. She had offered to switch with him, so he had sent her ahead to get her junk moved up top, and bring his things down where he would be able to reach them. It had been a pretty trivial errand, but the only way he could think of to get her out from underfoot long enough for him to get clean clothes on. She had been like an extra appendage for the last couple of days - there, but not really necessary - and he was getting to the point that he needed some space. If he cared too much about her to tell her that outright, he tried not to read too much into it.
But he did care. He cared that she was the first face he'd seen when he woke up, and he cared that she'd been there when he'd needed something for pain or couldn't reach something he wanted. She wasn't an annoying person - she didn't have any fussiness in her - but instead she was a quiet and comforting presence. She got him to smile, to laugh, and to be grateful despite his aching leg that he was here to gripe about it.
He hadn't realized just how much her presence really meant until she'd left. He had been the one to send her out - not wanting her to watch his first fumbling efforts on the crutches or his bare backside as he changed clothes - but now he was missing her attention and humor. He had to admit that it was nice being the center of someone's universe, even if it was only for a few days. Once she was back on her feet, she'd be running at top speed again. He was looking forward to the time that he could run with her.
Come to think of it, she hadn't been running at all. He wasn't sure why that one fact seemed so significant, but for some reason it was. She had been with him essentially every moment, so she couldn't have been out running in the mornings. He hadn't known her to miss a morning run since the war had begun - at least not unless she'd been very sick or ridiculously tired. She was no longer moving around like an old woman, grimacing at every shift in position, but neither was she bouncing around like the Kara he knew and loved
And loved.
Where the hell had that come from? It was a figure of speech of course, but for some reason the idol thought seemed to stick in his head and not budge. Did he love her? Well of course he did. He had for a very long time. He had resigned himself years ago to the idea that she would just always be a part of him, one way or another. Whether friend or sister or whatever she managed, he did love Kara.
But there was something else in the feelings he had for her of late. It wasn't lust. He knew that feeling - although it had almost been long enough for him to forget it - and that wasn't what he felt for Kara. Yes, she was good looking, and sweet, and she had a strength that he found to be a lot more appealing than the pretty princesses that he'd fallen in love with as a boy. He didn't mind being near her, holding her, or touching her, but it wasn't that same adolescent urge that he'd fought through flight school and slightly beyond. She wasn't a body to him. At least, she wasn't just a body.
But she wasn't just a friend, either, and that was what had him going around in circles. She was more than that. Much more. And yes, he did love her, and he did rely on her, probably more than was good for him in a wartime situation. It was that feeling - that uncertain classification - that had helped him understand why she would put her entire career on the line and go back into enemy fire to save him. Quite simply, she felt the same way that he did. And it was impossible to reason it out because it wasn't a feeling that was based on any kind of logic that he knew.
She was willing to do anything for him, just as he was willing to do anything for her. As they had been when they were children, they were dedicated to keeping one another out of trouble and into action. It was only the kind of action that had significantly changed.
Lee moved himself back to the bed following his third lap around the tiny Life Station alcove and seated himself tentatively. The pain wasn't as bad as it had been when he'd first stood, but it wasn't anything to grin about either. He laid the crutches on the bed beside him and reached for the overshirt to put atop the undershirt he was wearing. The temperature on the Galactica was back to normal - a rather uncomfortable chill - rather than freezing cold that had been necessary when fuel had been so low. Not that the warmth wasn't welcome, but at the moment it wasn't enough. After a couple of hours stuck in the rock, he doubted that he'd ever be warm again.
"You ready?"
His head popped up at the voice he had been half expecting to hear. She was back. What he couldn't get past was the relief that washed over him when he heard it. He'd been the one to send her away. She had been gone only half an hour. There was absolutely no reason he should have missed her.
"Mostly," he answered.
"Need something warmer?" she asked simply.
He wondered when she had become a mind reader. When she handed him the long sleeved shirt that they usually put under their flight suits for cold duty assignments and Viper patrols, he decided that maybe she had always been one.
"I'm still not warm," she told him by way of explanation. "And I was moving the whole time I was down there. You must still feel like an icicle."
"Yeah, I do," he admitted. He tugged the shirt on over the ones he was already wearing, then carefully stood to pull the top up on his uniform. He had nearly hit the floor when Kara stepped forward and tugged a crutch from where he'd placed it on the bed and set it beneath his arm. He raised a brow, but gratefully used the extra support to maneuver his top on, and then switched it to the other side to get his other arm in. Zipping with one arm wrapped over the crutch was another matter.
"Oh, for Lord's sake," she muttered as she stepped forward and zipped up his uniform for him. "If you don't develop some balance, you'll never be able to dress yourself."
He just grinned. "You can do it for me," he told her with a wink.
But she didn't give him the sarcastic comeback he had learned to expect from her. In fact, the color on her cheeks could have either been a blush or fury, and he decided to change the subject as quickly as possible to prevent the remark from sparking a fight.
"You get the room switched?"
"Yeah, you've got bottom bunk. You'll probably have a permanent bruise at the end of a week. How long before you can climb again?"
"Salik says no duty for a month," he grumbled. "He didn't say anything about climbing ladders, but I'd say that's probably about the same. I don't see what the big deal is, though. It really doesn't even hurt that much."
"Good drugs," she answered, and reached for the small tote bag that she'd brought him the day before. It held what he'd needed in the way of toiletries, the uniform he was wearing, and even a pair of boots that he hadn't bothered to even try on. Bending just hurt his leg too much.
"Need help with the shoes?" she asked.
He shook his head. "I'm just gonna take them off when we get there, so there's no reason to bother."
She nodded and made a final glance around the room. "Get everything?"
"I guess so."
She nodded and led the way from the alcove and into the Life Station. They passed without comment from there into the main Galactica corridor. Once in the primary ship walkway, Lee found himself stopped repeatedly by one person or another to welcome him back, ask how he was, or just give him a hard time in general. He considered it to be a good thing, as a few months before they likely wouldn't have bothered to say a word if he'd broken every bone in his body. Kara had been instrumental in getting him accepted with the crew - as more than just the Commander's son - and while he was grateful he rather wished that there weren't so many of them around at the moment. The corridor wasn't short, and his leg had gone from aching to true pain a few minutes before.
Kara must have recognized the look on his face, because she sent the current well-wisher on his way with a quirky comment, then gestured for Lee to follow. Gratefully, he did so.
Back in quarters, she helped him settle the crutches in an accessible location, then kicked off her boots and climbed up to his old bunk even as he sank down on hers. He noticed that she'd left his boots at the foot of the bed. "Thanks," he told her, and knew he didn't have to specify the help, the company, or running interference with pilots in the hallway.
"No problem," she assured him. "Just get some sleep."
He nodded at that and lifted first his sore leg, and then the other, up onto the bed. She had turned back the covers before she'd come for him. He noticed that there was a small stack of blankets at the foot of the bed also.
"How about you?" he asked softly. He didn't see anyone in the quarters, and it was often vacant this time of day, but he couldn't be sure.
"I'm resting," she told him.
"Resting or sleeping?"
She let out a sigh that was more revealing than an answer would have been. "I don't sleep much, Lee," she told him honestly. "It's easier to just lay here and try not to think."
He looked up at the underside of her bed, his brow furrowed. "Nightmares."
"Not exactly," she explained. "Just not good thoughts. As long as I keep moving it doesn't bother me."
"Need another blanket?" he asked, remembering how the cold had kept him awake so often in the life station.
"I have four here," she admitted.
"Still cold?"
She didn't answer for a long moment. "I'm always cold," she whispered.
He knew what she meant. With another glance around the empty quarters, and a quick look at his watch, he made a decision.
"Come down here a minute."
She hung her head down, looking at him upside down. "What do you need?"
"Just get down here," he told her in exasperation. You couldn't do a thing for the girl without answering an inquisition.
With a sigh the echoed his, she climbed down the ladder and sat on the edge of the bed. As soon as she was seated, he hooked one arm around her waist and tugged her back onto the bed and into his body, her back to his front.
"What are you doing?" she squeeled.
"What does it look like," he countered, tugging one of the blankets up over the two of them.
"Looks like you've lost your mind," she grumbled, but he noticed that she wasn't resisting. Instead, she had laid her head down on his arm and was settling comfortably against him.
"Nope," he argued. "Just getting warm."
"This isn't a good idea," she told him, but there was little protest in her words.
"Probably not," he whispered in her ear. "But I'm tired, and I'm cold, and if I don't get some sleep I'm gonna go nuts."
She gave a soft "Hhrumph", but no actual words.
"And if you don't get some sleep," he continued softly. "I'm going to get worried. You haven't had more than a nap in days. I know - I've been right with you. So put your head down, close your eyes, and humor me."
"What if someone comes in?"
He took a deep breath and let it out, her hair stirring in the process. "Then they see two fully clothed adults sleeping in the same bed," he admitted. "I honestly think the sleep will be worth any rumors that would start."
She made another frustrated sound, but she had stopped moving. His nearness was warming her up, just as it was warming him. He reached down and grabbed another of the blankets she had stacked, flipped it open, and spread it over the others that were covering them. Within moments, the tiny cocoon they had created was warm and comfortable.
"Nice?" he asked quietly.
She didn't answer. He hadn't expected her to. Her body was relaxed as it only was in sleep, her breathing regular and deep. He smiled to himself, liking the fact that he could do this for her, and liking even more than she would let him.
He made sure the blankets were snug around them, then on impulse he leaned up to peek down at her face. Her eyes were closed and features relaxed, and for the moment she looked very sweet. He couldn't resist a smile at the peace he finally saw in her features. She deserved this. They both did. He leaned down and kissed her cheek gently, feeling soft, warm skin against his lips. He didn't question how right it felt, just put his head down behind hers, tightened his hold around her waist, and closed his eyes to join her in sleep.
William Adama walked the length of the main Galactica passageway at a moderate pace. The tech in the life station had told him that Lee was discharged, and he'd been a little disappointed that his son hadn't called him. No, he wasn't a boy, but asking a family member to help you get back to your room wasn't out of line when you were badly hurt. Or it shouldn't have been.
Although his son was already in quarters, he decided that he could at least check in on him and see if he needed anything. Kara was likely around, as she had been for the past few days, but there were certain things a man wasn't likely to as a woman for unless they were on far more intimate terms than he believed Kara and Lee were on. They were close, yes, but he didn't think she was washing out his underwear just yet.
He knocked softly on the hatch to Blue Squadron's quarters, but there was no reply. He normally didn't just burst in on his pilots, not wanting to send them all flying to attention in what was really their only home, but he wanted to check on Lee, and Commander or not he felt that he had that right.
He eased the hatch open carefully, peeking into the darkened bay. There must not be anyone wandering around, because the motion sensors hadn't brought the lights up to a regular level. This was one of the ways that the Galactica conserved energy - minimal lighting in unused areas - but it wasn't one that he often considered informative.
Regardless of light levels, he stepped into the quarters and walked softly towards Lee's bunk. As expected, the top was empty. Lee couldn't have made it up that high with a bum leg. What he hadn't expected was the sight that greeted him on the bed directly below.
Lee was there, buried under several blankets with his head poking out to rest on a pillow. In front of him - tightly, if he did say so himself - Lee's arm was wrapped around Kara Thrace. She was snuggled back into his body as though she belonged there, her head resting on one of this arms, his cheek resting against her hair. While he watched, Kara murmured in her sleep restlessly. Without even waking, Lee lifted the arm from her waist, ran his fingers across her cheek to move her hair out of the way, and placed a gentle kiss just behind her ear before returning the arm to its careful imprisonment of her body. Kara took a breath, let it out on a sigh, and eased herself further back into his arms.
William Adama smiled gently as he backed out of Blue Squadron's quarters and closed the door behind him. He wasn't sure what to think about what he had just seen. Had it been anyone else, he just might be speculating about what was going on in the co-ed quarters. Had it been anyone else, he might have questioned the wisdom of keeping single warriors together with the opposite sex. Had it been anyone else, he might have wondered if relationships were such a good idea with a war so unpredictable and supplies so limited.
But it wasn't anyone else. It was his son, and the closest thing to a daughter that he'd ever had. If fate had been kinder, she would have been his daughter three years ago, but it hadn't happened. The irony was that as much as he had loved Zak, he had always thought that Kara really had more in common with his oldest son. She and Lee were both stubborn, both fighters, and both pilots to the marrow of their bones. They were also a good mental match, both bright and creative, each managing to fill the gaps in the other's weaknesses. Ten years ago, if he had been looking for the perfect match for Lee, he would have picked Kara.
But five years ago, his youngest son had announced an engagement that had thrown his fatherly wondering into a spin that never really recovered. He had realized that it was Zak who was in love with Kara - not Lee - and that perhaps they saw something that a father had not. He had grieved for more than the loss of his son three years ago when Zak had been lost. He had lost not only his son, but also the possibility of a daughter and possibly grandchildren.
And this evening, the long lost possibility of Kara joining the family in fact as well as in heart had been rendered moot. She might not be related by blood or marriage, but Lee knew quite well what William had forgotten in the tradition of age. Love had nothing to do with marriage or blood.
It looked like his son was indeed in love. William didn't know if he even knew it, but it was quite obvious in the way that - even in sleep - he held her, heard her, and comforted her. That wasn't something that came from a simple friendship. He had known that Kara loved Lee for years, but until she had risked her career and the lives of fifty-thousand people, he really hadn't understood the degree of that love.
Now he did. He didn't know if that made things easier or harder as a commander. He didn't know if it made things better or worse as a father. But he did know that for tonight, in Blue Squadron's quarters, two warriors were there for each other in a way that could not be equaled. And William Adama decided that whatever that meant, it could not be a bad thing.
After all, wasn't humanity what made them better then the ones they were fighting? And wasn't love what made them human?
The end (
His leg hurt, his hands were sore, and his back was stiff. But Lee Adama really didn't care anything about that. He was alive, when he had no right to be. Complaining about the state of that life was not only pointless, but it was also ungrateful.
He shifted his body once more, finding balance on the awkward crutches, and wincing as they rubbed against the bare skin under his arms. He had managed to get his undershirt on, and the bottom part of his uniform, but the top was hanging down from where the buckle secured his pants at his waist. It wasn't regulation, but he didn't figure it was anything to be worried about.
But he did have things on his mind that worried him, and they would not be pushed onto the back burner much longer. Kara wasn't doing very well. Physically, she was fine, but mentally she was on some kind of a down slope that had him very concerned. She hadn't left his hospital room for more than a few minutes at any point since he'd awoken. She nibbled a few bites off the plates they brought him, but she refused to really eat. She laid her head down on her arms when he slept, but she never really went to sleep herself. For three days, she had been his shadow and while he loved the company, he didn't know what had put her in this frame of mind. She wasn't even reporting for duty, and while apparently that wasn't an issue, neither was it like her.
Kara had been in trouble of one kind or another since he'd known her. She was always either mouthing off to a teacher, questioning a patrol officer, or hitting a kid that got on her nerves. She tended to strike first and think later, and it was part of that nature that made her so damn good in the cockpit. It was hell on a career though. She knew that. And he also knew that she had accepted that part of herself along with all the rest.
Kara simply wasn't an average woman. She never would be. She wouldn't dress up in high heels and fancy gowns, and she'd never paint her face or her fingernails. She didn't have patience for that stuff, and as a young man he'd been very grateful not to have to put up with a "sister" that was like the ones he heard about all the time. Kara had been just like him and Zak - ready for action and ready to get things done.
Okay, perhaps he'd been irritated a time or two because she couldn't follow a rule even when it held her hand. She would look at the book and then deliberately do the opposite just because she could. It didn't matter that her way was often better, as a youth he'd been disgusted that she couldn't just comply with what the rest of them did. In fact, he'd resented more than once that her unorthodox approach got her rewarded as much as it got her into trouble.
But he'd still been a friend, and brother, and even a partner in crime when she offered him the opportunity because there was something undeniably attractive about the attention she received. She had managed to get things done, and he'd admired that. She still did. And despite the danger she had placed the fleet in, and despite her own reaction to the crimes she'd committed, he couldn't help but be grateful that she had thought enough of him to come back. If he could have changed it - changed the laws she'd broken or the guilt she was mired in - he would have. But the final outcome was something he felt he could live with. She would get over whatever was taking her apart, and when she did things would be back to normal.
That was all in the future, though. For the present, he was doing his best to get used to crutches in order to support the weight that his leg did not want to bear. The shot hadn't really been deep, but it had been more than a flesh wound. It had burned through muscle and nerve tissue, and it would be a long time in healing. He couldn't help being thankful that Kara had given him the time he needed to heal.
He had finally run her out of his room. There was no way he was going to manage a top bunk, and no bottom bunks available in quarters. She had offered to switch with him, so he had sent her ahead to get her junk moved up top, and bring his things down where he would be able to reach them. It had been a pretty trivial errand, but the only way he could think of to get her out from underfoot long enough for him to get clean clothes on. She had been like an extra appendage for the last couple of days - there, but not really necessary - and he was getting to the point that he needed some space. If he cared too much about her to tell her that outright, he tried not to read too much into it.
But he did care. He cared that she was the first face he'd seen when he woke up, and he cared that she'd been there when he'd needed something for pain or couldn't reach something he wanted. She wasn't an annoying person - she didn't have any fussiness in her - but instead she was a quiet and comforting presence. She got him to smile, to laugh, and to be grateful despite his aching leg that he was here to gripe about it.
He hadn't realized just how much her presence really meant until she'd left. He had been the one to send her out - not wanting her to watch his first fumbling efforts on the crutches or his bare backside as he changed clothes - but now he was missing her attention and humor. He had to admit that it was nice being the center of someone's universe, even if it was only for a few days. Once she was back on her feet, she'd be running at top speed again. He was looking forward to the time that he could run with her.
Come to think of it, she hadn't been running at all. He wasn't sure why that one fact seemed so significant, but for some reason it was. She had been with him essentially every moment, so she couldn't have been out running in the mornings. He hadn't known her to miss a morning run since the war had begun - at least not unless she'd been very sick or ridiculously tired. She was no longer moving around like an old woman, grimacing at every shift in position, but neither was she bouncing around like the Kara he knew and loved
And loved.
Where the hell had that come from? It was a figure of speech of course, but for some reason the idol thought seemed to stick in his head and not budge. Did he love her? Well of course he did. He had for a very long time. He had resigned himself years ago to the idea that she would just always be a part of him, one way or another. Whether friend or sister or whatever she managed, he did love Kara.
But there was something else in the feelings he had for her of late. It wasn't lust. He knew that feeling - although it had almost been long enough for him to forget it - and that wasn't what he felt for Kara. Yes, she was good looking, and sweet, and she had a strength that he found to be a lot more appealing than the pretty princesses that he'd fallen in love with as a boy. He didn't mind being near her, holding her, or touching her, but it wasn't that same adolescent urge that he'd fought through flight school and slightly beyond. She wasn't a body to him. At least, she wasn't just a body.
But she wasn't just a friend, either, and that was what had him going around in circles. She was more than that. Much more. And yes, he did love her, and he did rely on her, probably more than was good for him in a wartime situation. It was that feeling - that uncertain classification - that had helped him understand why she would put her entire career on the line and go back into enemy fire to save him. Quite simply, she felt the same way that he did. And it was impossible to reason it out because it wasn't a feeling that was based on any kind of logic that he knew.
She was willing to do anything for him, just as he was willing to do anything for her. As they had been when they were children, they were dedicated to keeping one another out of trouble and into action. It was only the kind of action that had significantly changed.
Lee moved himself back to the bed following his third lap around the tiny Life Station alcove and seated himself tentatively. The pain wasn't as bad as it had been when he'd first stood, but it wasn't anything to grin about either. He laid the crutches on the bed beside him and reached for the overshirt to put atop the undershirt he was wearing. The temperature on the Galactica was back to normal - a rather uncomfortable chill - rather than freezing cold that had been necessary when fuel had been so low. Not that the warmth wasn't welcome, but at the moment it wasn't enough. After a couple of hours stuck in the rock, he doubted that he'd ever be warm again.
"You ready?"
His head popped up at the voice he had been half expecting to hear. She was back. What he couldn't get past was the relief that washed over him when he heard it. He'd been the one to send her away. She had been gone only half an hour. There was absolutely no reason he should have missed her.
"Mostly," he answered.
"Need something warmer?" she asked simply.
He wondered when she had become a mind reader. When she handed him the long sleeved shirt that they usually put under their flight suits for cold duty assignments and Viper patrols, he decided that maybe she had always been one.
"I'm still not warm," she told him by way of explanation. "And I was moving the whole time I was down there. You must still feel like an icicle."
"Yeah, I do," he admitted. He tugged the shirt on over the ones he was already wearing, then carefully stood to pull the top up on his uniform. He had nearly hit the floor when Kara stepped forward and tugged a crutch from where he'd placed it on the bed and set it beneath his arm. He raised a brow, but gratefully used the extra support to maneuver his top on, and then switched it to the other side to get his other arm in. Zipping with one arm wrapped over the crutch was another matter.
"Oh, for Lord's sake," she muttered as she stepped forward and zipped up his uniform for him. "If you don't develop some balance, you'll never be able to dress yourself."
He just grinned. "You can do it for me," he told her with a wink.
But she didn't give him the sarcastic comeback he had learned to expect from her. In fact, the color on her cheeks could have either been a blush or fury, and he decided to change the subject as quickly as possible to prevent the remark from sparking a fight.
"You get the room switched?"
"Yeah, you've got bottom bunk. You'll probably have a permanent bruise at the end of a week. How long before you can climb again?"
"Salik says no duty for a month," he grumbled. "He didn't say anything about climbing ladders, but I'd say that's probably about the same. I don't see what the big deal is, though. It really doesn't even hurt that much."
"Good drugs," she answered, and reached for the small tote bag that she'd brought him the day before. It held what he'd needed in the way of toiletries, the uniform he was wearing, and even a pair of boots that he hadn't bothered to even try on. Bending just hurt his leg too much.
"Need help with the shoes?" she asked.
He shook his head. "I'm just gonna take them off when we get there, so there's no reason to bother."
She nodded and made a final glance around the room. "Get everything?"
"I guess so."
She nodded and led the way from the alcove and into the Life Station. They passed without comment from there into the main Galactica corridor. Once in the primary ship walkway, Lee found himself stopped repeatedly by one person or another to welcome him back, ask how he was, or just give him a hard time in general. He considered it to be a good thing, as a few months before they likely wouldn't have bothered to say a word if he'd broken every bone in his body. Kara had been instrumental in getting him accepted with the crew - as more than just the Commander's son - and while he was grateful he rather wished that there weren't so many of them around at the moment. The corridor wasn't short, and his leg had gone from aching to true pain a few minutes before.
Kara must have recognized the look on his face, because she sent the current well-wisher on his way with a quirky comment, then gestured for Lee to follow. Gratefully, he did so.
Back in quarters, she helped him settle the crutches in an accessible location, then kicked off her boots and climbed up to his old bunk even as he sank down on hers. He noticed that she'd left his boots at the foot of the bed. "Thanks," he told her, and knew he didn't have to specify the help, the company, or running interference with pilots in the hallway.
"No problem," she assured him. "Just get some sleep."
He nodded at that and lifted first his sore leg, and then the other, up onto the bed. She had turned back the covers before she'd come for him. He noticed that there was a small stack of blankets at the foot of the bed also.
"How about you?" he asked softly. He didn't see anyone in the quarters, and it was often vacant this time of day, but he couldn't be sure.
"I'm resting," she told him.
"Resting or sleeping?"
She let out a sigh that was more revealing than an answer would have been. "I don't sleep much, Lee," she told him honestly. "It's easier to just lay here and try not to think."
He looked up at the underside of her bed, his brow furrowed. "Nightmares."
"Not exactly," she explained. "Just not good thoughts. As long as I keep moving it doesn't bother me."
"Need another blanket?" he asked, remembering how the cold had kept him awake so often in the life station.
"I have four here," she admitted.
"Still cold?"
She didn't answer for a long moment. "I'm always cold," she whispered.
He knew what she meant. With another glance around the empty quarters, and a quick look at his watch, he made a decision.
"Come down here a minute."
She hung her head down, looking at him upside down. "What do you need?"
"Just get down here," he told her in exasperation. You couldn't do a thing for the girl without answering an inquisition.
With a sigh the echoed his, she climbed down the ladder and sat on the edge of the bed. As soon as she was seated, he hooked one arm around her waist and tugged her back onto the bed and into his body, her back to his front.
"What are you doing?" she squeeled.
"What does it look like," he countered, tugging one of the blankets up over the two of them.
"Looks like you've lost your mind," she grumbled, but he noticed that she wasn't resisting. Instead, she had laid her head down on his arm and was settling comfortably against him.
"Nope," he argued. "Just getting warm."
"This isn't a good idea," she told him, but there was little protest in her words.
"Probably not," he whispered in her ear. "But I'm tired, and I'm cold, and if I don't get some sleep I'm gonna go nuts."
She gave a soft "Hhrumph", but no actual words.
"And if you don't get some sleep," he continued softly. "I'm going to get worried. You haven't had more than a nap in days. I know - I've been right with you. So put your head down, close your eyes, and humor me."
"What if someone comes in?"
He took a deep breath and let it out, her hair stirring in the process. "Then they see two fully clothed adults sleeping in the same bed," he admitted. "I honestly think the sleep will be worth any rumors that would start."
She made another frustrated sound, but she had stopped moving. His nearness was warming her up, just as it was warming him. He reached down and grabbed another of the blankets she had stacked, flipped it open, and spread it over the others that were covering them. Within moments, the tiny cocoon they had created was warm and comfortable.
"Nice?" he asked quietly.
She didn't answer. He hadn't expected her to. Her body was relaxed as it only was in sleep, her breathing regular and deep. He smiled to himself, liking the fact that he could do this for her, and liking even more than she would let him.
He made sure the blankets were snug around them, then on impulse he leaned up to peek down at her face. Her eyes were closed and features relaxed, and for the moment she looked very sweet. He couldn't resist a smile at the peace he finally saw in her features. She deserved this. They both did. He leaned down and kissed her cheek gently, feeling soft, warm skin against his lips. He didn't question how right it felt, just put his head down behind hers, tightened his hold around her waist, and closed his eyes to join her in sleep.
William Adama walked the length of the main Galactica passageway at a moderate pace. The tech in the life station had told him that Lee was discharged, and he'd been a little disappointed that his son hadn't called him. No, he wasn't a boy, but asking a family member to help you get back to your room wasn't out of line when you were badly hurt. Or it shouldn't have been.
Although his son was already in quarters, he decided that he could at least check in on him and see if he needed anything. Kara was likely around, as she had been for the past few days, but there were certain things a man wasn't likely to as a woman for unless they were on far more intimate terms than he believed Kara and Lee were on. They were close, yes, but he didn't think she was washing out his underwear just yet.
He knocked softly on the hatch to Blue Squadron's quarters, but there was no reply. He normally didn't just burst in on his pilots, not wanting to send them all flying to attention in what was really their only home, but he wanted to check on Lee, and Commander or not he felt that he had that right.
He eased the hatch open carefully, peeking into the darkened bay. There must not be anyone wandering around, because the motion sensors hadn't brought the lights up to a regular level. This was one of the ways that the Galactica conserved energy - minimal lighting in unused areas - but it wasn't one that he often considered informative.
Regardless of light levels, he stepped into the quarters and walked softly towards Lee's bunk. As expected, the top was empty. Lee couldn't have made it up that high with a bum leg. What he hadn't expected was the sight that greeted him on the bed directly below.
Lee was there, buried under several blankets with his head poking out to rest on a pillow. In front of him - tightly, if he did say so himself - Lee's arm was wrapped around Kara Thrace. She was snuggled back into his body as though she belonged there, her head resting on one of this arms, his cheek resting against her hair. While he watched, Kara murmured in her sleep restlessly. Without even waking, Lee lifted the arm from her waist, ran his fingers across her cheek to move her hair out of the way, and placed a gentle kiss just behind her ear before returning the arm to its careful imprisonment of her body. Kara took a breath, let it out on a sigh, and eased herself further back into his arms.
William Adama smiled gently as he backed out of Blue Squadron's quarters and closed the door behind him. He wasn't sure what to think about what he had just seen. Had it been anyone else, he just might be speculating about what was going on in the co-ed quarters. Had it been anyone else, he might have questioned the wisdom of keeping single warriors together with the opposite sex. Had it been anyone else, he might have wondered if relationships were such a good idea with a war so unpredictable and supplies so limited.
But it wasn't anyone else. It was his son, and the closest thing to a daughter that he'd ever had. If fate had been kinder, she would have been his daughter three years ago, but it hadn't happened. The irony was that as much as he had loved Zak, he had always thought that Kara really had more in common with his oldest son. She and Lee were both stubborn, both fighters, and both pilots to the marrow of their bones. They were also a good mental match, both bright and creative, each managing to fill the gaps in the other's weaknesses. Ten years ago, if he had been looking for the perfect match for Lee, he would have picked Kara.
But five years ago, his youngest son had announced an engagement that had thrown his fatherly wondering into a spin that never really recovered. He had realized that it was Zak who was in love with Kara - not Lee - and that perhaps they saw something that a father had not. He had grieved for more than the loss of his son three years ago when Zak had been lost. He had lost not only his son, but also the possibility of a daughter and possibly grandchildren.
And this evening, the long lost possibility of Kara joining the family in fact as well as in heart had been rendered moot. She might not be related by blood or marriage, but Lee knew quite well what William had forgotten in the tradition of age. Love had nothing to do with marriage or blood.
It looked like his son was indeed in love. William didn't know if he even knew it, but it was quite obvious in the way that - even in sleep - he held her, heard her, and comforted her. That wasn't something that came from a simple friendship. He had known that Kara loved Lee for years, but until she had risked her career and the lives of fifty-thousand people, he really hadn't understood the degree of that love.
Now he did. He didn't know if that made things easier or harder as a commander. He didn't know if it made things better or worse as a father. But he did know that for tonight, in Blue Squadron's quarters, two warriors were there for each other in a way that could not be equaled. And William Adama decided that whatever that meant, it could not be a bad thing.
After all, wasn't humanity what made them better then the ones they were fighting? And wasn't love what made them human?
The end (