Chapter 6
Something was seriously wrong with his children, William Adama thought with a humorous concern. Concern because he loved both of them, and humor because he knew them too well to really worry.
For the last week, neither Lee nor Kara had been found in the same location at the same time. It wasn't a completely unusual situation to find them apart, but to never see them together was damned strange. The two had been inseparable as children, their friendship and reliance had continued when they'd joined the academy together, and since the beginning of the war they had once more become fast friends.
Knowing his son as he did, Lee was probably initiating the situation. It was simply the way the younger man managed disagreements. He ignored them. It was often useful in command — and Adama did much the same thing himself when matters were not affecting jobs — but it was destructive in families. He had been on the receiving end of his son's planned ignoring once or twice along the way, and it wasn't a good place to be. There was little worse in this life than wanting to make something right, and not being allowed to do so.
So he had tried to talk to his son. It was a tricky proposition. To begin with, their own family ties were still tenuous following years of mistrust, misunderstanding, and pure anger. There had been a lot of pain in that time as well, and not all of it was gone. The last thing William wanted to do was damage the fragile trust that was building between him and his eldest son. The second issue was his son's basic nature; he was a contrary boy. William swore it came from his mother, but Lee was one that would do exactly the opposite of what he was told just to prove it could be done. Normally the defiance was in small rebellions, but they were there just the same. He hadn't wanted to order Lee to work things out with Kara because it would have most likely ensured that he never spoke to her again.
Was it an exaggeration? Probably. But it was a risk he wasn't willing to take, either as a father or a Commander. So he had kept his words general, and his recommendations minimal. He was hoping for the best.
Unfortunately, hoping wasn't often enough in the real world. He'd received a call an hour before from one of his mechanics, and the young woman had been very concerned about Lieutenant Thrace's state of mind following her routine patrol. Cally hadn't been sure if it was something on ship or off, but she had wanted the Commander to know that she was worried.
The call had been both reassuring and a concern. His concern was obviously for the situation, but there was a certain pride that his crew specialist would come to him directly rather than routing the problem through what would usually be considered an appropriate chain of command. As the problem might be personal, and it was general knowledge that Lieutenant Thrace and Commander Adama had a personal tie beyond their professional ones, Cally had felt free to come to him. Most Commanders didn't have that kind of trust from their crew. He was absurdly grateful that he did.
On the other hand, most Commanders didn't have their personal ties well known by crew members. There was a certain distance that command required — a setting of one's self apart from the lower ranks — that William Adama purely hated. He had hated it as a cadet, and he hated it more now. There was a time and place for rank, and he both knew and respected certain military traditions, but there were also times that regulations did nothing but get in the way. It had been the case when one of his best pilots had been up on charges for hitting someone who richly deserved it, and it had been the case when his own son hadn't been able to have his orders followed by the President, even to avert catastrophe. Rank gave one status in the military, but Adama knew that no rank was high enough to make a person right all the time.
He had been sure to relay that message to his crew in the last couple of years. He let them know that he was in command, but also that their opinions were not only valued but necessary. He couldn't run this ship alone, and he sure as hell couldn't keep the fleet together without their help.
So their help they gave, in great ways and smaller ones. Cally's call had been one more small way that his crew was holding itself together. He wouldn't ignore her concerns.
Earlier, he had worried about his son, but now he was just as worried about Kara. It was a father's right to care about his children, and while Kara might not be related by blood, she had nearly been so by marriage and would always be so in spirit. He had already tried to get through to his son with little success. Now, he would try a back door and see where he could get with Starbuck.
It had been more than an hour since Cally's frantic call to him on the bridge. He had taken his time getting down here for a couple of reasons. The first was a lesson that he'd learned in a brief stint as a security enforcer towards the beginning of his military career: never rush to the site of a domestic disturbance. It was a damn fine way to make matters worse. How many times in those early days had he received a call and eagerly jumped in before knowing the situation? He had made more than one situation worse by butting in before the people involved were ready. Finally he had learned to take a call, judge whether there was an immediate danger to life or limb, and then grab a cup of coffee on his way to the scene. Normally by the time he got there the couples had hashed out the argument and were ready to fix the situation. Or at the very least he didn't have anything thrown at him when he'd arrived. He was following that same principle now. He had given Lee and Kara time to get through things, and if all was quiet at their door he would see what he could do to help.
Reaching Lee's office door, he knocked twice on the hatch. No sound came from inside, but a gut feeling told him that someone was there. He waited a moment more, then knocked a little harder. He could have just pushed the door open — there were no locks on the Galactica except for the brig and a few other high security areas — but it was something he would never do. With respect, locks weren't needed. He wouldn't violate that trust just because he had the rank to justify it.
He was getting ready to knock again when Kara eased the door open and peeked out. She smiled once she recognized him, and opened the hatch wide to allow him into the dim room. Dressed in tank tops and duty pants, her ruffled blond hair and droopy eyes told him that he'd most likely awakened her. He was sorry for that, but not that he'd found her alone.
"What do you hear?" he asked her with a grin as she gestured to the seat at Lee's desk and flipped on the lights as she took her own place on the bed. She tugged her legs up and crossed them before her, sitting as she had when she'd been a little girl.
She didn't reply as she normally did, instead giving him a sheepish grin. "A knock at the door," she said in a wry tone. "What can I do for you?"
"Would you believe it's a social call?" he asked her skeptically. She raised her eyebrows at him, but didn't answer. "I didn't think so," he admitted. "I just came down to see how you are. There were a couple of reports that my best pilot was on her way to kill someone after she landed, and I needed to be sure that no funerals were in order."
He watched as her body relaxed partially. She still kept her hands on her arms as though she was cold, but her smile became more natural. "All's well," she admitted with the same sarcasm he was so used to hearing from her. "Nobody died."
"Why do I think that it wasn't lack of effort?" he asked her with a wink.
"Yeah, well, there were a couple of tense moments," she admitted. "But we got it sorted out. Mostly."
"Do I need to ask who you pounded on?" he pressed gently. "Or will I be hearing charges in the morning?"
"If he files charges I'll kick him again," she told him without much humor. "And I don't think you need to ask who."
"Send him to the sick bay?" Adama asked casually. He had picked both Lee and Kara up and dusted them off after more than one squabble when they'd been little. While he hadn't intended a fist-fight when he'd spoken to his son, he couldn't argue with what worked for them. At the moment, he was planning on being a father rather than a commander, so he wasn't going to start placing blame.
"He went to get some ice," she admitted as she lowered her hands. Clear hand-prints were visible in a dark blue that was darkening rapidly to black. Her arms were going to be sore. He had to squelch a burst of anger that his son would hurt a woman, but he managed because he knew that Kara had probably started it. Lee wasn't one to begin a brawl if he could get out of it.
"How bad off is he?" he asked with some concern.
"About the same," she admitted with a grin. "I won't be wearing tanks, but he won't be wearing shorts."
William shook his head. He didn't know whether to send them both to the brig or laugh. He decided to do neither. "Did it solve anything?" he asked.
"We're talking," she admitted with a wink. "That's better than it was this morning."
He finally laughed, because if she could find humor in the situation and manage it without anger, he knew he could do no less. "Never have known what to do with the two of you," he muttered under his breath. Her smile told him that she'd heard him anyway. "Is there anything I can do?"
She shook her head. "We'll hash it out," she explained. "It's mostly a communication problem. Now that he's talking, we'll get it sorted out."
"I wonder if I should have tried hitting him," the Commander said dryly. It hadn't ever really entered his mind before, but in retrospect it might have been more effective than waiting on his son's forgiveness.
"I have to say that I don't recommend it," she remarked.
As they laughed gently about the situation, the door to their side opened and Lee stepped in carrying a fairly large and lumpy bag. His eyes widened in surprise when he saw his father, but he didn't really remark. William watched a measure of guilt enter his expression as he handed the bag to Kara.
"Hi, Dad," he said quietly, and then to Kara, "I'll get a towel for you."
She nodded as Lee turned and walked into the small bathroom and disappeared. When the Commander looked over at Kara he saw an almost challenging expression there, and he decided that this was not the time to reprimand his son for fighting with women. Although he felt it would be his duty to express the sentiment at some point. He had never consented to letting his children fight physically among themselves or with others, and he certainly wouldn't have tolerated his CAG hitting one of his troops under other circumstances. Still, Kara wasn't going to be pressing any charges, and she had already assumed a good deal of the responsibility, so he didn't see a reason to press the matter now.
Lee reentered the room with three towels, then filled each to bulging with the ice. He handed two to Kara and took a seat next to her on the bed. Kara crossed her arms, placing the towels on the black and blue marks that her arms carried, and Lee pulled one leg up onto the bed to put his own towel against his shin. There were times that William truly wanted to utilize a command authority and ask what the hell was going on, but those situations were to be selected carefully. While his curiosity was killing him, he didn't want to inadvertently find out something that he would have to officially discipline.
"Who won?" he eventually questioned as the two of them sat there in silence, offering no explanation to their bumps and bruises. At the very least there were no split lips or broken limbs to manage. This time.
Lee looked at Kara and winced. She looked back at him and smiled. "I think it was a draw," he offered.
"Is it going to happen again?" Adama asked pointedly.
Once more the two exchanged a look. "No, Sir," Kara told him quietly.
"That's something," the Commander muttered. "Do I need to send either one of you up to Salik?"
"No sir," Lee answered.
"And do I need to move either one of you out?"
Lee and Kara shared another look, and he would have given a year's pay to know exactly what had transpired in the time between Cally's call and his own arrival. "I don't think so," Lee answered, but his features were a long way from certain. They cleared somewhat when Kara let out a sigh that could only be relief. What the hell had gone on here?
"Just so you know," the Commander told them earnestly, facing his son as he did so. "I'm here because I received a concerned call from a crew member regarding unusual behavior. Whatever is going on here, whether it affects your duties or not, is starting to show to the crew. I expect you both to conduct yourselves professionally outside of this room. Are we clear?"
"Yes, Sir," they answered him in unison.
And as for whatever else is happening here," he continued. "I really don't want to have to pull either of you off duty for either injuries or assault charges. You aren't any good to me in the brig."
"Yes, Sir." This time it was Kara's voice alone. He turned his gaze to his son, and finally received a nod from the younger man. It was probably the best he was going to do without making this official.
"Then I'll get out of your way," he informed them, standing to go. Lee looked like he was going to rise as well — manners ingrained by his mother — but Adama just shook his head. "Keep the ice on it," he recommended. "I think that's blood."
He watched as Lee looked down to see the slight dark stain below where the towel rested on his shin. Lee's eyes widened, and it was all the older man could do to leave the room without breaking into laughter.
But he couldn't allow it. It was bad enough that he was going to turn a blind eye to a clear fight between his CAG and a pilot, but to laugh about it was almost as bad as condoning the behavior. He had to maintain some sense of order, otherwise the rest of his crew would lose respect for any form of discipline. So he didn't laugh. He smiled a bit, but he didn't laugh.
Kara watched as Lee checked his leg. Sure enough, she'd kicked hard enough to break the skin in a couple of places. She was really fighting with the guilt, but the discomfort in her upper arms was enough to keep it within reason. He had given as good as he had gotten.
"So what now?" she asked him softly. It was refreshing to know that neither of them were headed to the brig, but it didn't solve the more immediate problem of their difficulty.
"Hell if I know," he replied with a grin.
"This isn't helping," she reminded him. "I appreciate that you told me the problem, but if we don't work out a solution then we're no better off than before. We're in the same room, but we're about ten miles apart. Talk to me."
"I don't know what to say," he admitted. Then he finally met her eyes. He looked as confused and frustrated as he had before. At the very least she now knew the reason for the frustration. "What do you want to do about it?"
"Look," she began. "I'm not opposed to well, you know getting closer. But I think we're jumping the gun a little bit. You can't go from friends to you know, just like that. I mean, I guess some people can, but I'm not one of them. Let's think about it. If you hadn't known me forever, and if I wasn't living in your room, then what would be your next logical step?"
He thought about it for a moment. "Probably a date," he admitted reluctantly. "Although that's not much of a possibility on board. God, I don't know! Do you have any clue how long it's been since I had to think about this stuff? I wasn't even good at it when I was in practice."
"I don't know," she argued. "You seemed to have enough girls around when we were at the academy. You were always going out somewhere."
"Most were friends," he said in a sheepish voice. "Some were even students that just needed help on homework. Mostly I stayed clear to give you and Zak some time together."
Zak. She had known it would come back around to him at some point. "Is that a problem?" she asked him softly. She couldn't quite meet his eyes as she asked; she was too worried about his answer.
"Is it?" he asked her right back. The man should be a psychiatrist; always answering a question with a question.
"Not for me," she admitted. "What about for you."
His brow furrowed for a moment. "Can I ask you something?"
She didn't like his tone, but they were finally talking and she really didn't want to put a stop to it. She shifted the ice on her arms, grateful that the pain had dropped to a dull throb, and considered a moment. "As long as I'm allowed to be honest when I answer," she decided. "I'm tired of trying to figure out what you want to hear. I think it's time we went for the truth."
He nodded in agreement. "Fair enough."
He was silent for a long time. So long, in fact, that she wasn't sure he was going to ask anything after all. Maybe he wasn't as ready for honesty as she was. Or maybe he knew what the answer to his question was going to be, and he didn't want to hear it. Maybe he was just as scared as she was. It struck her in an odd way — the thought of Lee scared — because he didn't scare easily. "You loved him, right?" he asked.
"Yeah. I still do, but not the same way. It's not something you can turn off."
Lee nodded; she was sure he felt the same way about Zak. The two had been close — very close — and Lee had taken his death harder than just about anyone. "Do you think about him?" he asked softly.
Honesty. Damn, this was hard. "Not very often," she admitted sheepishly. "It's harder to remember him than it used to be. I mean, that's a good thing because it doesn't hurt so much, but some days it bothers me. I don't remember what he sounded like," she admitted, again avoiding Lee's gaze. "Sometimes I feel like none of it ever happened. I kind of have to remind myself."
Lee nodded, but didn't remark.
With a sigh, Kara stood and set the towels full of ice on the edge of Lee's desk. She would have left them on the bed, but she didn't want to sleep in a wet bed — assuming she slept there at all tonight. "Come here," she requested.
Lee followed her slowly, beginning to limp a little. She squashed another stab of guilt; at least she hadn't drawn blood. But she led him over to her locker. Opening the door, she pointed to a picture of him tucked into the left side of her locker. It showed him standing with his flight helmet beneath one arm. He wasn't smiling, but he didn't look upset either. The Caprican hillside behind him was lush and green.
"Cute," he remarked with a grin. "But I didn't know you needed a picture. I could have found you a better one to keep."
She shook her head, reaching for the picture. "I keep it here so I can see it every day," she admitted. "It helps on the days you aren't around very much, or when you're on patrol. Besides, you're pretty easy to look at."
He grinned, but didn't offer anything else. He must have known she wasn't finished. With a deep breath, she grabbed the picture and pulled it from its place, carefully unfolding it to reveal what was on the right-hand side. She and Zak stood in one another's arms, her head ducked shyly down against his chest. Zak's expression was both excited and happy. It had been one of his first days at the academy, and he hadn't yet been buried in work or worried about flying.
She remembered vividly the day that Adama had taken the picture, joking them about looking like triplets in their military issue uniform pants and tank tops. Initially the photo was just to be of Lee and Zak, but she had walked too close and Zak had pulled her in. Lee had been stunned initially, and that was when the picture had been snapped. There had been a few others taken afterwards, some with just her and Zak, and some of just the two brothers, but this was the one Adama had kept with him.
He had later given her the picture after a particularly bad night in which she had gotten absolutely plastered and cried all over him. She hadn't remembered what Zak looked like, and it had torn her apart. Kara had never been one to keep pictures around, always preferring to live in the present, but she had taken this one gratefully. She had folded it carefully — not willing to look at Lee because she had been furious about his treatment of his father — and tucking it into her locker where she could see Zak each day. She might not remember his voice, or what he felt like in her arms, but at least she could see him. At least she could know that she hadn't dreamed it all.
She had opened the picture up when she had thought she'd lost Lee. She had been reminded then of just how fragile life could be, and how important he had been in her life. After she'd learned the truth, she had left the picture open so that she could remember an easier time — a better time. Just a few months ago, she had folded the picture once more and tucked it in with only Lee visible. She had just moved in with him, and she wasn't sure how he'd feel about finding a picture of Zak in her locker, especially the way they'd been holding one another. At the time, Lee had still been fairly affectionate, and she hadn't wanted to put an end to it.
"I remember that day," Lee said softly, breaking into Kara's thoughts. "Dad came up to see Zak and caught us all in between classes. I'd forgotten about it."
"Your dad gave it to me," she said softly. "He gave it to me because I couldn't even remember what Zak looked like. It hadn't even been a year since we'd lost him, and already he was so faded to me that I couldn't picture him."
"I'm sorry."
Kara shrugged one shoulder. It wasn't as sore a point now as it had once been. Over the years, she'd realized that a lot of memories faded. The best and worst remained, and she could choose how much of each she wanted to dwell on. Mostly, she chose the good ones. "I used to keep it up so I'd remember Zak," she told him softly, then turned to face him. "Now I keep it up so I can look at you. I always know Zak's there — I just have to turn over the picture — but I usually don't. It's not that he isn't important to me," she added quickly. "It's just that I don't need him anymore. Does that make any sense?"
Lee looked at the photo for a moment, then reached for it with a question in his eyes. She released it into his hand, then waited and watched. She didn't know what reaction she had expected, but this somber consideration certainly wasn't it.
"I'd forgotten how excited he was," Lee said softly.
"All he wanted was to fly," Kara told him with a soft smile. "I don't think he was ever as happy as he was at the academy."
Lee nodded. "You made a good couple," he added. "Light and dark, tall and short. You balanced one another out."
She nodded, not knowing where he was going with this.
"I'm not a thing like him," he told her softly, moving his eyes from the photo to meet her gaze. "I'm really not. You know that, don't you?"
She had to grin; talk about stating the obvious. "You aren't supposed to be," she told him firmly.
"But how could you?" He stopped a moment, and seemed to try to gather his thoughts. "You loved him, and I'm nothing like him," he finally said. "I don't see how"
"How I could fall in love with you?" she asked him softly.
He nodded, then handed her back the picture. She folded it gently, tucking it back into the left side of her locker, then closing the locker door quietly.
"Beats me," she admitted with a partial grin. "I sure as hell didn't plan it. It just sort of happened. Maybe it's because you don't take anything from me," she mused. "Or because you talk to me instead of making everything into a joke. Sometimes you're a little too serious, but I can live with that."
"And it doesn't bother you?"
She shook her head. "Not like you mean," she replied. "I still miss Zak. I wish he'd lived long enough to grow old and have kids. But the thing is, when I think about Zak all grown up, I'm not there."
"Hmm?"
"I can imagine Zak older, but I can't imagine myself with an older Zak. That probably sounds stupid. But when I think about the future — about maybe having kids some day, or finding a place when this war is really over — I don't think about being with Zak. I think about being with you." She looked into Lee's eyes, wondering if he was getting the message. "Can you understand that? I don't dream about Zak. I dream about you."
Lee reached out and took her in his arms, just holding her. It had been so long since she'd felt this comfort that it was all she could do to keep from breaking down. She had missed him — really missed him — and this was one of the things that she'd missed the most. She had always felt safe with Zak, but with Lee she felt protected. It was a subtle difference, but it was one she couldn't ignore.
"So what now?" he asked her again, his chin resting gently on the top of her head.
"I don't know," she told him again. "But I don't want to lose this. When I'm with you it feels right."
"So I guess we just go back to the beginning?" he asked.
"Maybe. And this time take it a little slower?"
"Slower, but steady," he replied. "I think I can handle that."
She closed her eyes and leaned her head against his chest, listening to his heartbeat for a moment. "Just don't let go," she requested. "Ever."
She could hear the smile in his voice when he replied. "Not planning to."