William Adama hated to be on leave. No, that wasn't right. He didn't mind leave, but he hated sitting at home with nothing to do. Initially, he had scheduled this leave to be at his son's wedding, and following the boy's funeral William had simply forgotten to cancel it. Once he'd realized how close it had been, he had thought that Iilya might need some support during the difficult day, and so he hadn't bothered with the time and effort to change things. And so he found himself now sitting by the fire with a cup of coffee in his hands and a large hole in his heart. The house was damned empty, too quiet, and not at all where he wanted to be. And yet he was, because he had thought his wife would need him here. Ex-wife. Hell, everything was just plain wrong.
Iilya had needed someone, but she had chosen to stay with Lee instead of staying in the family home. In a way it pleased William, because he knew that the two of them needed one another. If no one gave a shit what he needed, than that was just the way it was. After all, he was a Battlestar Commander; he didn't need anyone. He did, however, want something to take his mind off the fact that his wife had left him, his youngest son was dead, and his oldest held him responsible. Perhaps saying that things were "wrong" was understating the matter.
When the phone buzzed, he was actually grateful for the diversion. He picked up the receiver expecting it to be another of Iilya's well-meaning if nosey friends, but instead it was the Commander of the nearest Colonial Base. He listened for a moment, gratefully thanked the man for calling him first – which had not been an easy task given that he was on leave – and accepted the responsibility offered. It was the last thing he had expected, but he would take whatever diversion he could get.
It was worse than he had thought it would be. While not the first time he had seen Kara Thrace in the brig, previously she had at least been fully clothed and furious rather than huddled against a bed and shaking. The Security Commander had happened to recognize her, had called the Base Commander with the extenuating circumstances, and somewhere in the circle of command William had thankfully been considered. Now, he just had to figure out a way to get her out of here. It was the very least he owed his son, because if things had gone differently today this woman would have become his daughter.
"You look awful," he called to her from his side of the bars. Her head didn't even raise. He nodded to the guard beside him and the door was unlocked so that he could enter the small cell. He had expected her to be sleeping, or maybe crying, but what he didn't expect was the absolute absence of expression that greeted him when she finally raised her head.
"Why are you here?"
He almost didn't understand the question. Her words were more than a little slurred. He had read the arrest report, and he'd known that she was intoxicated, but he had heard rumor of this woman drinking grown men under the table and still beating them at cards. Granted, he'd never seen that side of her, but a quick glance at her record had been all he had needed to confirm that most of the rumors were true. If anything, they glossed over the details rather than exaggerating them.
"I got a call from a friend," he admitted. "He thought you might like to spend the night somewhere more comfortable than the brig."
"Doesn't matter," she muttered, again slurred badly. "I deserve to be in jail."
"Some of the witnesses claim it was self defense," William suggested as he sat down on the bunk just above and beside her. "Well, not the guard, but the rest."
"I belong in jail," she said again, and he was sure that this went beyond simple intoxication and fighting in public.
"Why is that?" he asked simply.
She looked up at him, sideways and backwards at an awkward angle. "I killed him."
If her voice hadn't been so clear following the previous slurring, and her expression so… dead, then he might have taken it as a joke. But the woman before him wasn't joking. She was absolutely serious, whether or not she was drunk. "Who did you kill?" he asked quietly.
"Zak."
William thought about that for a moment, and despite the many directions that he turned it in his mind, he could not find a grain of truth to the self-accusation. His son had died in an accident; a terrible one, yes, but an accident. "Why do you say that?"
"He shouldn't have flown," she said simply.
"You couldn't know that," he corrected gently. Wasn't one of the stages of grief blame? Was that what was happening? Was she taking on some illusion of responsibility to cope with Zak's death? Lords, he wished he had a psychologist handy, but he didn't. All he had was the simple knowledge that his son had loved this woman, and Zak would not be capable of loving a killer.
"He shouldn't have passed basic flight," Kara said, putting her head back down on her knees and no longer looking at him. "He should have flunked out completely. His technique was so bad that he shouldn't have even been recommended for retraining."
"If that were true, then his flight instructor would have failed him," William said logically.
"He probably would have," Kara said slowly. "But he wasn't there."
William Adama looked down at the woman on the floor, at the slump of her shoulders and the resignation in her body, and he knew that something was terribly wrong. "Who tested him?"
"I did," she said with a breaking voice. "His score was so low that he couldn't have even retrained. I thought… I thought that if he could just pass, then I could work with him on it. We could have spent some more time in the simulators. If I'd turned in those scores, it would have been over. They would have pulled him out of training, and sent him Lord knows where."
"So you changed the scores?" Adama asked, his body shaking in fury even as his mind denied it. It was one thing to fudge a recommendation, but to actually change computer scoring…
"No," she admitted, sniffling some. "You know the second portion is subjective. I just… scored what I thought he might be capable of with some practice, instead of what he actually did on the practical. When Lieutenant Graham came back, he didn't question the scores because Zak's written exam results on theory were so high. It was only a few points, and I really didn't think it would matter."
"It mattered," Adama told her quietly. But in looking down at her, he found that the fury which had initially pervaded him just could not take hold.
"I didn't want to lose him," Kara said in a quiet voice. "And he wanted to fly. It was all he wanted, and I understood that. I knew it would kill me not to be able to fly, and I didn't want to do that to him. I swear it was only a few points – just barely a pass. He was a little sloppy, but I thought he could learn. Not everyone can… feel it at first. I just wanted to give him that time to maybe develop more of an instinct for it, but instead I set him up to kill himself."
Adama looked down into pleading green eyes. He could be angry, yes. He could be vindictive, and hateful, and cruel. He could take out all his pain on her, just as Lee had done to him. Except that he knew what that kind of attack felt like, and William hadn't even deserved it. Kara – in a small way – did. She hadn't killed Zak intentionally, but the result was essentially the same. And if faced with an inquiry, she would most certainly be court-martialed, found guilty, and discharged from Colonial Service if not actually imprisoned. A dishonorable discharge would ground her as surely putting her in prison. It would slowly kill her – he had no doubt of that. There had been enough death; he wouldn't be the cause of more.
"Why didn't this come up in the investigation?" William asked her softly.
"Hmm?"
"You were engaged; conflict of interest goes without saying. Why didn't that show up when they did the investigation?"
"Graham signed the forms," she said with a sigh. She wasn't crying now. She was only half with him. Her blood alcohol level had been nearly three times the legal limit when she'd been arrested; he had no clue how she was even conscious.
"Why?"
"It was his class," she told him. "He trusted my judgement."
William sat there watching as Kara laid her head down on her knees one last time, her green eyes fluttering closed, and either passed out or fell asleep. One was about the same as the other under the circumstances.
He watched her for a long time, remembering family picnics that she had attended and simple dinners before his and Iilya's divorce. One thing he had no doubt of was her love for Zak. The two of them together had been… incredible. It had been enough to make William more than a little jealous.
Not that he was attracted to Kara; not exactly. He supposed it was more the type of woman she was that had been attractive. She was beautiful, yes, but she was also very strong. As much as William had loved his wife – still did if it came to that – she was not all that strong. She was like a child in many ways, wanting to be taken care of. His career kept him away from home more often than not, so she'd had to make due. In the end, it had been too much for her. She had asked for the divorce just over a year before, and he had allowed it uncontested. He couldn't be the husband she needed, and he knew it.
But Kara… Kara would make a fine wife for a pilot. To begin with, she was one herself, and there was an understanding of flight that had to be felt to be understood. Iilya had never understood his fascination with flight, but Kara lived it. She and Zak would have had so much in common. Kara was also a survivor. Her childhood hadn't been easy, at least not from what little she had said about it. And yet she was independent and responsible, if a little unorthodox at times. Her heart was pure, too. She had loved his son with everything in her, and Zak had loved her the same way. Hell, if he'd been thirty years younger, knowing what he now did he just might have fought Zak for her. He couldn't blame his son for falling in love. There were days that he was half in love with her himself, although it was in a purely paternal fashion. She had become one of his children over the past two years. The words and the rings were mere formalities; she was already his daughter.
And he couldn't condemn his daughter to either the slow death of grounding or the equally slow death of alcoholism. He hadn't known her to drink before this, but it was in her record and with this level of guilt the potential was there. In three days he would return to the Galactica, and when that happened she would be alone. Her future was not something he could leave to chance.
William stood, and then knelt down to ease Kara to her side so that she wouldn't fall over. He positioned her carefully on her side, just in case she should become ill. He had some phone calls to make, and some favors to call in. He didn't often ask for a return on the things he did, but in this case he would make an exception. He owed it to Zak, and in a way he owed it to Lee as well because his oldest son had been right. Zak shouldn't have been in that plane. The only thing Lee had gotten wrong was the person who had let Zak wind up there.
Adama shifted in his chair, in and out of a doze but never truly sleeping. He watched the young woman on the floor, and he had to wonder what she was dreaming, if she was dreaming. She had been out for the better part of a day, during which he had moved the heavens to circumvent military procedure. His reasoning had been logical, and was as professional as it was personal.
To begin with, Kara was a danger to others. She had shown that she was not objective enough to be an instructor, however talented she was. Chances were high that she would never be so close to a student that she would bend the rules again, but the possibility did exist. As good as she was at what she did, she needed to be doing something else right now.
Secondly, she needed a reason to live. Right now, from what he could see, Kara didn't really have one. She was irresponsible enough to get dangerously drunk, and only a few phone calls had revealed that she hadn't been out of her apartment, hadn't been seeing friends, and hadn't been to work since Zak's death. She was dying a little each day, and someone had to put a stop to it. He didn't bother with wondering why he had to be the person to give her a reason to get up in the mornings; he just accepted it as his responsibility.
Thirdly, she needed someone to look out for her. It was something he couldn't really do himself, but as a Commander he could "suggest" to several others the idea that she needed some supervision, or food, or exercise and his wishes would be carried out without her ever knowing where they had originated. Yes, it was dishonest, but the end would justify the means.
Finally, he could use a good pilot, and Kara Thrace was better than good. He had seen her fight more than once in the simulations, and she was a sight to behold. She and the Viper were one, and if it ever came down to the point of war again, he'd be proud to have her on his side. It was unlikely that it would ever happen, but he'd seen enough during his hears in the Service to know that it wasn't an impossibility. And if it came down to old-fashioned dogfights, a pilot like Kara could turn the tide in a battle. She had it in her.
So he had made some calls, and had begged some favors, and then he had indebted himself to a few other individuals along the way because that was how the military was run. Some called it a chain of command, but he preferred to think of it as a circle. They all wound around into one another – the flyers, the marines, and the security troops. A little push here, and some pull there, and he had netted himself a new crew member. Now he just had to break the news to Kara.
His first warning that she was coming around was a groan. It was all he could do not to smile. He had a friend who tended to drink – and often with good reason – so he'd pulled the bastard out of more than one barroom brawl over the years. It was rare for Saul to drink to the point of passing out, but those few times he had, the hangover afterwards had been something to inspire hysterics. Tigh probably wouldn't think so, but to a man who didn't drink it was damned funny. Self-inflicted poisoning didn't make a bit of sense to William Adama, but then flying through space didn't make sense to some so he couldn't throw stones. To each his own. But Kara was going to be hurting.
Her eyes came open slowly, and her pain from even the dim lighting in the cell was obvious. She squinted, covered her eyes with one hand, and groaned in earnest.
"Good morning," he said simply.
Those eyes that had been squinting popped open with startling speed, and she did her best to push herself upright. Her best wasn't very good at the moment. He saw the panic in her eyes just before her hand flew to her mouth. He might be old, but he was still quick on the uptake. Fortunately, he also moved with more than a little speed when inspired.
He grabbed her from behind as she tried to lunge for the metal head in the corner of the cell. Without his support, she would likely have gone head-first into the concrete floor, but as it was she managed to at least aim towards the bowl before the vomiting began. It went on for a very long time. Long past the time when he would have thought there couldn't possibly have been anything left, Kara continued to surprise him. When she was finally quiet, he made sure she was stable and then walked the few feet to the metal sink, soaked a towel in cold water, and brought it back to wash her face and wipe up the worst of the mess.
"I'm sorry, Sir," she croaked out. Her head was resting against the cool metal, and she couldn't lift just yet, but still she was calling him "Sir." What in hell was he going to do with her?
"Don't worry about it," he reassured her. "Feeling any better?"
"Better than what?" she mumbled. William smiled at that. Yes, she was hurting.
Rather than talking to her, he decided to just wait. She wasn't in any condition to reason with him, and there didn't seem to be a point to explaining things when she was too ill to comprehend them. And he was delaying the battle as well, he had to admit to himself. She was a fighter, and she was not going to come along easily. Her pride was too well developed for her to let anyone take care of her. Zak had told him more than once that the way to get Kara to do something was to maker her think it was her idea. William didn't have time to do that, but he wasn't stupid enough to just order her point blank when she wasn't even strong enough to sit up on her own.
"Sir?" she asked after a long time. He was pleased to hear that her voice was a little stronger, although not her normal tone by any stretch of the imagination.
"Yes?"
"Why are you here?"
He smiled again. He did like her style. "I got a call from a friend that one of my favorite pilots had gotten herself into a barroom brawl."
"Oh. I'm sorry, Sir. Yesterday was… difficult. I guess I didn't do such a good job getting through it. I really don't remember much."
"Yesterday was painful," he agreed. "It was supposed to be such a happy occasion, but…"
"Yes, Sir."
He sighed. She wasn't going to make this easy on him. "I'm here to make you a deal," he offered.
"A deal?" He wasn't sure which was more prominent, her confusion or surprise. But her head had come up, and she hadn't turned green again just yet.
"A deal. I think we can agree that having you return as an instructor on the Callahandra would be counterproductive. Favoritism shown once might one day be repeated; after objectivity is compromised, it's far too easy for it to happen again." Her look of utter panic removed the smile from his face. "You didn't kill him, Kara. You may have used poor judgement, but you wouldn't have hurt him deliberately."
"You know?" she said, just over a whisper.
"You told me," he admitted. "You're very talkative when you're plastered."
Her blush was almost enough to make him smile. Almost, because the panic was still in her expression.
"I don't hold you responsible, but that doesn't mean I want you tried in a military court for lack of objectivity concerning the man you were planning to marry. That wouldn't do anyone any good. Hell, I've already lost one child, and whether you realize it or not, you're a part of the family – with or without marrying Zak. I don't want to lose another child to this mistake."
A couple of tears streaked down her face, but she said nothing.
"So, this is what is going to happen," he told her with as much authority in his voice as he could manage under the circumstances; she looked awful. "You are going to come back to the house, clean up, get something on, and then we'll go clean out your quarters on the Callahandra. You'll stay at the house under my supervision until we report to the Galactica at the end of the week. There, you will report for duty as a pilot, be assigned group quarters, and in general continue life in the military as you know it. Any questions?"
She just sat there, looking up at him in utter confusion. He knew she was sober enough to understand him, but her expression saddened him greatly. There was so much guilt there, and so much fear as well. He knelt down so that she could look him in the eye without straining, and he had to give her credit for that as well. Despite all that she had done, and the clear embarrassment and guilt, she was still looking him in the eye. The girl had guts. Damned, why hadn't she been around thirty years before?
"Kara, you're the best pilot I've seen in a very long time," he told her simply. "You're meant to be in space, not in a military prison. I know you're capable of staying out of trouble when you put your mind to it, and you would be an asset to any squadron. You just need time; let me give that to you."
She shook her head in denial. "I don't deserve…" she began, but he cut her off.
"For Zak," he told her gently. "If you won't let me do this for you, then let me do it for Zak. He'd want to know that you're okay." Two more tears streaked down her cheeks before he put his hand out towards her. "Deal?"
She sniffled, nodded, and took his hand. Her smile was tentative, and her heart wasn't in it, but it gave him a little bit of hope. There was still some of the woman his son had loved in her, and he just had to get her to remember that.