Chapter 3

Lee reached to his left and painfully groped around for the hand-held welder that he needed. Laying on his back beneath a Viper, it was not the easiest thing to accomplish, even if he hadn't had sore muscles that had sore muscles. But he was both determined and desperate; the fitting was not going to stay in place without welding it there. He wished that he'd had the sense to grab the damned thing before he'd slid up under the Viper to get things done. Normally he was much better organized in his repairs, but this day was a long way from normal.

At the very least he was alive, and that was more than most people were and more than he had any right to be. If he hadn't had a friend — a damned good one — that few better than he ever had, he wouldn't even be alive to have aches and pains, much less complain about them.

Just as he was ready to give up and drag himself out from beneath the spacecraft regardless of what he knew it would feel like to get back under there, he felt the familiar feel of the welder's handle slipping into his palm.

"Thanks," he said absently, even as he went to work welding the fitting in place. It wasn't easy to do without watching what he was doing, but he hadn't put on goggles before getting into position. He really hadn't been thinking.

It was very unfamiliar ground, because for as long as he could remember, Lee had thought about absolutely everything from every angle in every situation before doing a damned thing. He was known for it. He had been decorated for it, and he had heard the jokes since long before he'd known the meaning of the words "anal" or "retentive." He was careful. That was all. Things should be done the right way, and that was all there was to it. Period

Which did not explain why he was laying on the ground without eye protection doing a patch-up job with a piece of equipment that some anonymous person had had to help him find. No, it was not a normal day.

With the fitting finally secure — or at least as secure as it was going to get until it cooled and he could check the stability — Lee laid down the welder and began to move himself back from under the Viper. Every muscle in his back and legs protested, his arms hurt beyond words, and there was very little left in the world that he wouldn't have given for an effective analgesic.

It seemed almost prophetic that the first person he saw when he was out from beneath the bird was the one that had put him in this condition in the first place. She was also the person who was responsible for his being alive, so he decided that grumbling about his situation wouldn't be the wisest thing to do.

Sitting on her butt with her legs pulled up against her body and her chin resting on her knees, Kara looked just like she had most of his life. She looked like she knew she was in trouble, and couldn't quite figure out how she'd gotten into it. It was that subtle mix of innocence and antagonism that tended to keep her in the brig more often than not. The antagonism kept his mind busy, and the gentle innocence behind him kept him from killing her. She was a good friend.

"How you feeling?" he asked as he sat himself rather painfully upright.

"About like you from the looks of it," she told him with a wry smile. "How's the bird?"

"A mess," he admitted. "All three engines were out by the time you brought me in."

"I thought you said you'd had worse," she commented with a wink.

"Yeah, well maybe I exaggerated," he admitted. "How about you? Any sore spots?"

"Nothing that a good night's sleep won't cure," she hedged. "If they ever get quarters reopened, that is."

"What?"

She sighed and turned her head to the side for a minute, looking away from him in an uncharacteristically evasive gesture. He could hear her breathing, deep and regular, and almost forced. She was shoring herself up for something; he'd seen her do it enough right after Zak's death.

"Kara?"

"A couple of the Raptor pilots," she said softly. "No one's quite sure what exactly happened. My theory is suicide, but security thinks it might have been more external. Until they get quarters cleaned up and decide which way the report is going to go, we're locked out of quarters."

Lee's brow furrowed. "And was anyone going to tell me about this?" he asked sardonically.

"I just did," she answered softly. "Lieutenant Beauchamp reported it to me because I knew them both."

"Who were they?" Lee asked, realizing that this was more than either the inconvenience of being locked out of quarters when sleeping time was precious or the obligation of reporting a questionable situation to the new CAG. They had been pilots, and likely Kara's friends as well. She had lost too many during the battles to be able to afford more.

"Aames and Spencer."

Aames wasn't familiar beyond being a name on a roster, but Spencer was more of a concern. He knew that name, and didn't really believe in coincidence. "Spencer?"

"Ripper's kid brother," Kara affirmed.

"What happened?" Lee asked, and when she began shaking her head he added, "And don't tell me that you don't know. Tell me what they've found out so far."

"Two men, two blasters, and a hell of a lot of blood," she admitted. "Aames wasn't remotely a hothead, and neither was Spence. They wouldn't have been fighting, and sure as hell wouldn't have shot one another if it hadn't been deliberate."

"Suicide pact?" Lee asked gently.

"That's my thought. I wanted you to know before the rumors started flying. Beauchamp should have come to you, but they don't know you yet. Besides, you were working, and I was off."

Suddenly registering a very disturbing thought, Lee asked, "Were you there?"

She shook her head. "In the shower," she admitted. "But I heard the shots. No one seems to have seen it, and there was no yelling or screaming beforehand to indicate that it was a fight."

"And weapons aren't allowed in quarters," Lee added, rubbing a grubby hand over his tired face. God, he needed a shave. He also needed a shower, a good night's sleep, and maybe a month's leave. Oh, and some psychiatric counseling; he couldn't forget that.

"The Commander said it would be bad," Kara told him in a quiet voice. It wasn't wavering, or breaking, but neither was it normal. "But I knew these guys, Lee. Our teams are dropping like flies. How do we fix this?"

Lee reached out pried one hand from her knees, taking it's cold, solid presence into his own warm hand. He kept it low, and one or the other of their bodies would hide the gesture if anyone were watching, but he needed something. He needed to give her some kind of comfort, and he just didn't have any. "This has to get better," he muttered inanely. "Everyone's tired and hopeless but once they get themselves back together things wills straighten out. We'll get the ship put back together, get some defenses set up, and go back to life like before. It'll take time, but we can do this."

"Why?" she asked, finally looking up and meeting his eyes. Her hand was limp in his, neither clasping nor withdrawing; just limp, as though she felt nothing. "Will there be anyone left when it's over?" He didn't have an answer for her. "You know," she added. "I was just glad to be alive at first. I had you, and your dad, and even a few good friends that had survived the battle. I really thought we'd be okay. But now"

"Now you're tired," Lee told her with a gentle squeeze to her still-unresponsive hand. "You just need some rest, some food, and some time. The shock is starting to wear off, and the depression is setting in. This really is normal."

"Thank you Doctor Adama," she muttered, finally tugging her hand away from him. "And what psych class is that from?"

"One-oh-one," he admitted. "And I didn't mean it to sound that way. It's just, Kara it's going to take time. This isn't a drill, it's a war. Some people aren't going to be able to handle that."

She shook her head, and he could have sworn she had tears in her eyes, but they never made it to her cheeks. "Did you care enough about anyone to notice that the world is over," she ground out. "Doesn't this hurt even a little?"

"Kara"

"Look, I was supposed to tell you, and I've told you. Now I'm going to get the frak out of her before I hit you, too. I don't have time for the brig, and Lords know you'd probably send me there. I have to go talk to Cindy, anyway. So finish up your Viper and get back into the fight. I'm sure that's all you care about doing."

He watched as she climbed painfully to her feet, clearly in as much discomfort from their collision with a hangar wall as he was. Just as she turned her back on him, he called out, "Kara?"

"What!"

"Who's Cindy?" he asked softly.

"Andrew Spencer's wife," she said just as softly. "Cindy Spencer: Devon Aames' older sister. They were a pretty tight family; they grew up together."

As Lee watched her walk away, he realized that psych textbooks weren't going to serve him very well this time. He also realized that Kara was a lot closer to the edge than most people would be able to see. If Zak had died out in the war, instead of years ago in a peacetime accident, would he and Kara have been as emotionally ruined as the men that had apparently just ended their lives? And as it was now, were they going to have any pilots left to get the job done if they ever managed to get the planes in the air?

Laying back down, staring at the hanger ceiling, he momentarily wondered if there was a point, and then he wondered if he was the one who was wrong because he didn't have a desire to die.

Absently, Lee wondered if he'd ever be able to look at his father without discomfort again. For that matter, he wondered if he ever had. As a child, he had been so busy looking up to the eldest Adama, and wanting both his approval and to be like him, that he'd always been less than relaxed in his father's presence. It had been easier immediately after Lee had received his commission, because at least they had both been adults, regardless of significantly different ranks. When Zak had died, any comfort had been lost. Anger and resentment had replaced Lee's childish adoration, and just being in the same room with his father had been difficult.

Lee now knew that William Adama had not been to blame for Zak's death. Intellectually he understood it, but the comfort that he had hoped for had not come. He knew that he needed to give it time, but between the lingering guilt over how he'd treated his father and the discomfort of having to face the man who was now the highest ranking military officer left living, Lee found even managing his duties to be difficult.

That was another issue. Lee had always aspired to become the Commander of the Air Group, but he had not wanted to get it because he was the last living pilot with sufficient rank. He had not wanted a position above men who did not really want to follow him. He had not wanted to take the position from Kara, and he sure as hell hadn't wanted the responsibility of managing a crew that would just as soon kill themselves as not.

If he were honest with himself, it had only been four days since the world had crashed down around them. The shock was just now beginning to ease up in some of the crew members, and he really couldn't expect more from them than what they were capable of. Some people simply weren't strong enough to manage adversity. It didn't mean they were weak, but that they just didn't have any mental reserves to fall back on. Also to be fair, Lee had a hell of a lot more than most. He'd managed to survive the end of the world with part of his family and one good friend. Yes he had lost people, but he had not lost everyone.

Some had. Some of the crew simply had nothing left to live for. Judging from what he'd just seen in Red Squadron's quarters, at least two men had seen no other options than to end their lives. It would take maintenance hours to get the place clean, and even then he didn't know if the survivors would be able to live there. He was betting not.

And that was why he was here, standing outside his father's door and waiting as patiently as possible for him to finish with the President so that he could get some things done maybe make something easier on someone. By the time that Laura Roslin finally exited the office, he was wondering whether or not it was worth the trouble.

He smiled when the President patted him on the arm as she left the Commander's quarters. Lee had to wonder what they had been talking about, but he would never ask. The President wasn't a bad leader, but she was definitely inexperienced. She and his father would disagree more than they would agree, or at least that was what Lee thought. But she wasn't unreasonable. If his dad was willing to work with her, they could be a very effective team in leading the fleet. At least, Lee hoped so.

"Captain?"

Lee ducked his head and cleared his throat. "Commander," he answered. "I wanted to speak with you if you have a moment."

William Adama looked exhausted. If Lee had only slept a hand full of hours, he couldn't imagine how little his father had managed to rest. "Of course," he said as he gestured for Lee to enter.

The first thing that caught Lee's attention was the boxes. Most of his father's things appeared to be in the process of moving. When he turned a questioning glance to his father, he didn't have to say a word.

"It's a little large for one person, given the circumstances," his father explained. "I'm taking a smaller room closer to CIC, and this will be used as an isolation center for some of the less seriously ill patients from Life Station. Doctor Salik assures me that he will have it equipped with hospital beds and other equipment within twenty four hours."

"Isolation?" Lee asked, his mind latching onto that one word.

"Our conditions are exceptionally overcrowded," William explained as he placed a few more items from his desk into a box sitting next to it. "Any illness, however slight, will be a danger at first. Once we get our people registered; find out who is where and who needs what, then we can do a better job of moving things and people around. Although we need this space regardless," he continued. "We've lost another two ships this morning. Engines are fried after two jumps in a row with no real preparation time. I don't know where we're going to put everyone."

"Actually, that's part of why I'm here," Lee said as he moved closer to the desk and yet remained standing. He didn't plan to be here long enough to need a seat; there was work to be done in the hangars. "I'd like approval to move some of our squads around."

"Any reason?" his father asked, finally stopping to look at him.

"We've had a number of suicides," Lee began.

"I'm aware of that. I'm sure you know about the two this morning. At least, we think that's what it was."

"I was at the scene," Lee said softly. "I don't think anyone in that squadron's going to be able to sleep in there tonight. Maybe not ever again; but I'm not a psych expert. Anyway, Blue Squadron's quarters has more than enough room to accommodate what's left of Red Squadron's men. I'd like to move them all in together. They know one another, and maybe they can I don't know, keep an eye on one another, I guess."

"That sounds like an excellent idea," the Commander agreed. "You have my support. If anyone has a problem with it, refer them to me. We're consolidating space with the deck crews as well; there are so few of them left."

"Yes, Sir."

"What else did you need? You said that was part of it"

"The deck crews," Lee said with a sigh. "They're not doing well. Some of them resent having pilots with their hands in the engines, and others are just numb. Especially Tyrol's crew," Lee added. "Crews four and five just seem to be half-alive."

"Not even that," Adama corrected. "Three-quarters of those two crews were decimated by the fire, and the venting necessary to stop it. Those that are left are either guilty as hell that they didn't die, or furious at the world because someone else didn't. That about it?"

"Yes, Sir. Exactly. I just wanted to be sure you were aware of it."

"I spoke to the Chief this morning."

Lee nodded. It shouldn't surprise him that his father was on top of it. That was what a Commander did. "There's one kid a girl, I think. She's on team five. Dark hair, really small I don't know her name. Anyway, the whole time we worked on my Viper she just cried. She worked, and got it done, but her mind was only half there. I don't mean to sound callus, but there are going to be mistakes made."

"Long hair?" William asked. "Brown eyes, and looks like she's about sixteen?"

"That's the one."

William smiled gravely. "Cally," he said. "I'll mention her to the Chief, although I'm sure he knows. I don't think I'd ever seen her without Prosna before the fire; they were like twins. I'll make sure Tyrol checks up on her."

"Thanks," Lee said. "She just seemed so young."

"How about the patrols?" William asked, changing the subject effectively. "How many Vipers are still in the air?"

"Six," Lee admitted. "Tyrol should have three more up by the end of the day, but most of them had the majority of their bellies gutted out with the landings. Rebuilding takes time, and equipment we don't have."

"I know," William said softly. "And we may not get it in the near future. We're still trying to get a bearing on what's here."

Lee nodded. "We'll make due," he assured the Commander.

"Where are you staying?"

Lee looked up at that. It was the closest thing to a personal question that his father had asked since the war had started. "I'll be moving in with the squads," he admitted. "I don't' need my own room, and I'm sure it could be used for something. Hell, I don't lay down long enough to worry about where it is."

"That's the truth," William told him. "But you need to. If you plan to keep your judgement intact, you'll need to get some rest."

"Do as I say, but not as I do?" Lee inquired.

Adama smiled. "Exactly. But I'm not flying Vipers. If I fall asleep, someone's around to wake me up."

Lee gave a smile and then turned to leave. He had the feeling that his father would much rather be trying to fly Vipers in this mess than trying to lead what was left of humanity's military.