Almost finished. With two more final touches, Kara placed her wrapped gift on the edge of his table and checked her wrist for the time. Almost there. Another twenty minutes, and her surprise would be underway.
Kara might hate the calendar, and she might despise holidays in general, but she could appreciate the need for a good cheering-up celebration and she felt that was exactly what her commander – Bill – needed. He had seemed just a little too quiet lately. It wasn't that she was in the best position to know – they didn't speak daily or anything – but she could see the signs of depression. Lords knew she'd dealt with it enough in the last five years to see it in another.
Regardless of the mundane nature of their recent activities, their Commander was still more commander than person, and he needed a reminder that he was pretty special as a person as well as a commander. She hadn't realized just how great that need had been until she'd eaten dinner with him days before. Yes, it had generated rumors, but that was the whole point. When just sitting down to dinner with another person was enough to set the rumor mill to buzzing, something was definitely amiss.
So Kara had begun to plan. It had been a scrambled and confused effort, granted. She wasn't used to trying to do for others, and she was still learning the process. That was something that worried her as well – when she was so wrapped up in her own life that she wasn't doing a thing for those around her, it was time to take inventory of the situation.
So in pure Kara Thrace fashion, she had fabricated some discussions on Colonial One that the Commander would be expected to attend, and then she had begged, pleaded, and almost cried as she had talked Lee into giving her the routine transport assignment. He had rolled his eyes as he'd done so, but finally he had complied. Better yet, he had insisted that if she was going to be transporting the Commander of the Galactica, then she was to do so in a Raptor rather than a basic shuttle which had no armament.
Roslin wasn't even going to be aboard her ship, so it would be a quick if confusing trip, and then she would bring the Commander home. It wasn't the visit that was the important part, anyway. It was the getting there and back, however short the flight would be. The President's ship was practically under the Galactica's wing – if she'd had wings that was – due to the importance of the political cabinet aboard, but it had been the best Kara could do on short notice. And in the midst of it all, she would give him the greatest gift that she could think of. She only hoped he appreciated the effort; it hadn't been easy to manage.
Kara's eyes strayed to the wrapped gift she had set on the edge of her desk. It wasn't anything really special – only a book of old Caprican poetry – but books were scarce, this one was extremely special to her, and there was a little something extra for him in the back. She had debated about whether to remove the pages from the book, not really wanting to share certain parts of herself with anyone, but he deserved more than five minutes of freedom and a simple book. How did a woman say 'thank you' to a man who had saved her life more times than he knew? How did she thank him, when he wouldn't accept it? She hoped she had found a way.
Kara made the quick walk down to the ready-room so that she could get into her flight suit for the trip. The practiced motions were efficient and effective. She was dressed and at the Raptor with ten minutes to spare. She ran a preflight check – although one had already been done by Tyrol's crew – and made sure that everything was in order for the flight. By the time she took the pilot's seat, she was doing her best to sit still. She loved surprises – so long as they weren't directed in her direction – and she couldn't wait to spring this one on Bill. How had she forgotten how much fun it could be to do something nice for someone else?
The expression on Commander Adama's face when he saw his pilot was enough to make all the begging called-in and favors worth it. He gave her a gentle smile, and a raised eyebrow as a question.
"Beats being grounded," she told him with a wink. "If you'll have a seat and buckle in, we'll get ready for launch."
He shook his head at her, but didn't say a world. He followed her instructions and strapped into the co-pilot seat used when the Raptor was not in battle. It provided a nice view of space that he was rarely allowed as they felt the lift take them up to the flight deck, and they followed procedure to launch. Normally he was tucked carefully into a simple shuttle and accompanied by Vipers. With the majority of their Viper fleet undergoing some overhauls, this was one of the few times that she could finagle the Raptor to fly him from point to point.
"It's a step down from a Viper, don't you think?" he asked her once they had cleared the Galactica and had closed the communication frequencies to CIC. "What did you do to get downgraded to shuttling VIPs around?"
"Actually, it was a request," she admitted, trying her best not to smile. "With the fleet in repair, using a Raptor was safer. Besides, I Just wanted to wish you a happy birthday."
He rolled his eyes. "I told you I wanted to forget that," he muttered. "I'm too old to be counting."
She gave him wide grin. "But you're not too old to fly," she said softly. Then, with no more warning than that, she touched a couple of buttons and transferred control to his side of the panel.
He was quick on the uptake, but the shock on his face was still clear. "You know I'm not cleared for flight status," he muttered as his hands took to the controls with a natural grace that bespoke years of flight.
"You gonna tell anyone?" she asked as she sat back in her chair and rotated it slightly to watch him. He was intent on the controls, no doubt trying to remember the sequences and details of Raptor flight. But it was simpler than a Viper, and it was the best she could do. She hoped it was enough.
With barely a hiccup in their course, he brought the Raptor back under full control, making the minute course adjustments almost absently. "Lords, I've missed this," he whispered almost reverently.
"I thought you might have," she replied. "Happy birthday, Bill."
They were in uniform, so it was probably inappropriate, but she didn't care. She had done this as a friend, and not as a subordinate. She had wanted to see that look of peace on his face, of satisfaction. She knew the feeling all to well, and it was one in which only a pilot could really understand. When he had lost his wings to failing eyesight, it had been like caging a bird of prey. He might be kept alive, fed and housed, but he hadn't had the chance to truly live. She didn't really know how he had survived it. She'd seen the old footage of his flights – both during and after the war – and he had been something to see. He'd had the natural feel for a plane that couldn't be learned. She had it herself, so she recognized it. Lee didn't have the same, but he had a determination and skill that made up for his lack of instinct.
But to some – like her, and like Bill – flight was more than something they did. It was what they were – how they defined themselves. Taking away his flight status had been akin to cutting off his legs so far as she was concerned. She didn't know how he had lived through it, much less how he had moved beyond it to command first smaller ships, and then Battlestars.
Her thoughts were brought back to the present as she watched their course heading. They were rapidly approaching Colonial One. "You feel up to landing her?" Kara asked softly.
"God, yes," he whispered, the look on his face just shy of rapture. Kara had always considered flight to be better than sex for the adrenaline and pure freedom; she had a feeling that Bill felt the same way.
"I'll be right here if you run into any snags. Just be sure to switch back over before they do the post-flight."
He nodded, too absorbed in what he was doing to really acknowledge anything else. She smiled at that; he was a pilot to the core.
She called in the landing request, and then went through the standard protocol during the landing itself. If there was a bit of confusion regarding why he was there, or what meeting was scheduled, he certainly didn't seem to let it bother him. He landed with only a little skip before engaging mag-locks, and Kara had to smile. She hadn't been sure she would be that accurate in a Raptor after so many years off the stick. The little error could easily be explained by her normal performance as a Viper pilot, so she didn't think anyone would notice. Certainly nobody would suspect that the Commander would pilot his own craft.
Yet he had done so, and the grateful look he gave her as she transferred controls back over to her own console so that they could manage a post-flight check without questions had been worth every moment of planning, every lie she'd told, and every favor she'd called in.
As Kara knew would be the case, the President wasn't even aboard. She was off taking care of some detail within the fleet – some political irritation that she knew Bill was more than willing to ignore – rather than waiting on a meeting. He gave her a knowing glance as they cross-checked schedules with Billy, the President's assistant, who could not apologize frequently enough to suit himself. The commander took the entire situation in good humor, having realized at some point that the entire "mission" was a fabrication designed to get him into the Raptor with Kara. He graciously agreed to reschedule at the President's convenience, and they went back to the Raptor.
Kara had to smile as he peeked over her shoulder as she repeated the pre-flight on the craft just as she had done before. This crew was less accepting than Tyrol's had become, taking mild offense that she would question their capabilities with refueling and inspection. She didn't care; if she flew it, she checked it. It appeared her Commander had the same idea as he watched her closely, nodding with approval as she went down the list on the clipboard.
She didn't even make the pretense of taking off for him this time. She transferred her control to him immediately, allowing him to launchon his own, fly the short distance, and land the Raptor without so much as a bump. She couldn't have done it more cleanly herself.
"Slick," she commented.
"Some things you don't forget," he admitted. They had spoken little, and even then only words necessary to manage the flight, adjust controls, and allow them to coordinate with flight control.
"I see that."
He smiled at her as he released the restraint harness which held him in the co-pilot seat. "Days like this," he said softly. "Opportunities like this you can't forget. I won't forget. Thank you."
"Just don't turn me in for breach of regs," she requested with a wink.
"This… 'thank you' seems so inadequate," he began. She stopped him quickly.
"This isn't over," she informed him with a mock indignation that few in the fleet would chance. "In fact, it's not even the best part. I'm on duty until seventeen-thirty, but then I plan on meeting you in your quarters with a surprise."
He shook his head at that. "I hate parties," he reminded her. "And I hate surprise parties even more. Please don't do this."
Kara looked to her side and ensured that the landing platform hadn't lowered yet. Their coms were off; they were alone. "Trust me," she requested softly. "If I can figure out what you wanted to do the most, I can probably figure out what you don't want too. It's not all that hard."
"You know that this birthday makes me eligible for the mandatory retirement clause," he said carefully. "I would rather it not be broadcast."
"Just between us," she assured him, although eventually that's what the meeting with the President would be about. "We have a petition signed by every man and woman on this ship that requests you be offered the opportunity to remain in your position until you're ready to leave it. It's not part of the birthday present, but I thought it might relieve your worry. We won't be putting Tigh in command of the Galactica for a long time."
Bill smiled at that. "He's a good man," he argued. "I couldn't have asked for a better second in command."
"But he's not a commander," Kara argued. "And that's not personality conflict talking. He doesn't have the… judgment. He doesn't think the way you do. We need you."
"For now," Bill reluctantly agreed. "I won't live forever."
"Please," she requested, placing a hand on his arm with her entreaty. "Not today. I know eventually we'll have to think about this, but not today. I've lost people I've cared about before, and I know I will again. For today, it's your birthday and the two guys I care the most about in the world are alive and well. Cylons be damned, I'm not ready to give this up. Not today."
"Not today," he agreed, covering her hand with his own. At the sound of the Raptor's docking ramp lowering, he patted her hand once and then let her release him. "So, seventeen-thirty?"
"You've got it. And I promise not to tell."
"What's the dress code?" he asked.
She grinned. "Comfortable," she answered simply. "If you put on a dress uniform I promise to walk out on you."
He laughed at that. "Thank you," he said. Then as he looked around the control console of the Raptor, he added, "For so much."
"You belong in the air," she said on a whisper.
If he heard her, he didn't reply.
Kara had her basket packed as she approached the Commander's quarters. Thanks to her "mission" earlier in the day, she'd managed to finagle the evening off, and she was planning to use it to her advantage.
Three knocks was all it took, and Bill answered his hatch in what was as close to an "off duty" uniform as any of them managed. Uniform pants, regulation undershirts, and a simple pullover sweater were the garments of the time, and Kara was wearing the same thing herself. Not a word was said as he ushered her into the room with a grand gesture.
Unlike the last time she had been here, the bed was tightly made, the desk neatly arranged, and he'd pushed two chairs over by the single table in the room. It was almost as though he were reading her mind. "Just to get this out of the way," she told him with a pointed glare. "Happy birthday. And don't argue with me; just say thank you so we can get on with this."
He laughed slightly, the sound relaxed and warm. Kara thought it was damned refreshing to hear him laughing about anything and she smiled back at him.
"Thank you," he echoed dutifully. Again, the commander was taking orders from his lieutenant. She wondered if he even noticed.
"You're welcome," she told him as she plopped the large covered basked down on the table. "Now, let's get into this."
She dug around in the basket for a moment, finally finding the plates she had placed near the bottom. Dumb planning, she decided. She had loaded things in reverse order, packing as she remembered them, so this might be a mess. She hoped he didn't notice. She placed a plate before each of them, and then silverware – or what passed for it – as well. The ceramic mugs took a little more arranging, as they were heavy, and also near the bottom of the basket.
"Can I help?" he asked, and at least his voice sounded amused rather than impatient.
"Yeah," she said absently, digging to the opposite side of the basket. "You can start this." With an almost reverent gesture, she handed him a small bag. He opened it, took a sniff, and his smile reached from ear to ear.
"Is it real?" he asked hopefully.
"Yeah, and you don't want to know what I went through to find it. Real coffee is almost as scarce as ambrosia, which I didn't manage, by the way. Sorry. I figured you'd prefer the coffee anyway. I have a friend on the hydroponics barge, and one of the med-techs used a mortar and pestle to grind it this morning. There should be enough for a couple of pots."
He shook his head at her ingenuity. "Is there anything you can't manage on this ship?" he asked.
She flashed a grin at that. "I learned from the best," she reminded him. "You know everything that goes on around here, and you can get pretty much what you want. I don't know why you don't keep a coffee stash all the time. Hydro would do it for you; all you'd have to do is ask."
"I can't ask," he said gently as he walked over to his coffee pot and pushed the synthetic substitute out of the way. It was a similar bean to the coffee, but just different enough to make the taste… wrong. Not bad, he had insisted to her during the first year of the war, just wrong.
She watched long enough to be sure he was indeed making the coffee, and then went back to digging in the basket. Her gift was near the top, so she took that out and with nervous fingers she placed it to the side. He would laugh, she was sure. But hey, a good laugh might be what he needed. She pulled out sandwiches that were made with real meat rather than protein substitute – those had cost her one of her small undershirts, a rarity in this military of men and their muscles – but it had been worth it. She'd nibbled a corner of one slice of the meat, and sure enough it was the real deal. It had been all she could manage not to eat her sandwich right then and there. Next came some fresh soup, complete with vegetables and a savory broth. Again, she was indebted to hydroponics for the treat. The look on Bill's face as he returned to the table, taking a long sniff of the soup as she removed the lids from the bowls as he did so, was enough to make the sacrifices worth it. He would eat tonight, she knew. Probably for the first time in a while.
He'd lost a lot of weight since the war had begun. All of them had lost a little – and some had needed to do so – but others had dropped dangerously due to the unappetizing food and demanding schedules. The commander had been one who had needed to drop a few pounds, but Kara had been worried when the initial loss hadn't leveled out with the rest of them. He didn't look sick – not exactly – but he wasn't nearly as heavy as she'd always known him to be. It worried her. Both of the Adamas worried her, but that was another issue entirely.
"Lords, that smells real," he murmured.
"Every bite. Meat sandwiches – didn't ask what kind, because we probably don't want to know, but it's real – and vegetable soup. I found some old crackers, too. They're still sealed, so they may not be too bad. Oh, and dessert. I have…" she dug around a bit more in the basket. "Cake, fruit, and some fake topping stuff. I tried for whipped cream, but that was out of even my considerable influence."
He laughed again. "You went all out," he observed. "Thank you. Truly."
"It's not a problem," she told him with a small blush. "Lords, with all you do for us, one meal is the least I can pay back. "You can thank me by eating it rather than pushing it around your plate."
He turned his back on her long enough to retrieve the prepared coffee and fill their mugs, then he did just that, savoring every bite if his expression was any indication. Kara enjoyed her own smaller portions, but she liked watching him more. He looked relaxed for the first time in ages, and for just a moment the mantle of command had slipped enough to reveal a tired, lonely man who could enjoy something as simple as soup and sandwiches, and a thrown together dessert.
No one in the fleet would have minded him asking for favors. He was just this side of a Lord to most of them, having saved what was left of humanity and led them from ruin into hope. She knew that his slightest whim would be their honor, but he seemed so damned afraid to take advantage of that. He didn't even ask for favors normally extended to command crew, and the only reason he kept his office and quarters was because he needed it for meetings and he'd once told her that his crew needed to know where he was caged. At the time she hadn't understood, but in time she'd realized that he just wanted to give them time not to be soldiers. He didn't want to hover. She thought it must be a horribly lonely existance.
When they had finished eating, and Kara had packed most of the utensils and both of the plates away into the basket, she pushed the small gift nervously towards him. "It isn't much," she apologized. "But Zak always told me that a gift from the heart was the best kind."
Bill smiled as he carefully removed the paper. The gift was just a book – a simple collection of Caprican poetry. Opening the front, he read the inscription.
For Kara,
Because you're softer than you think,
And everyone needs to be reminded of that.
Love you,
Zak.
"I can't take this," Bill whispered, his eyes suspiciously bright.
"I have it memorized," she explained. "I don't need it anymore. I think he'd want you to have it."
Bill sniffed, then began to page through the book, smiling as he saw some of the poems and his expression softening when he saw others. Kara became more nervous as he reached the end of the book, where what had once been blank pages were now filled with her own substandard scrawl.
"I'm not a poet," she told him hastily, hating the blush that had crept from her chest to forehead. "But I write stuff down sometimes. I thought… well, most people would just think it's stupid, but I thought you might understand."
Bill read the first of the hand-written pages aloud.
Darkness encloses me, claustrophobic, as I wait.
Impatience edges in on me, but I know the reward will be great.
Finally, a hand thrusts me through the void, and I am.
With stars and sky, freedom beyond all measure, I am.
And nothing else matters.
"A Viper launch," he said softly.
She nodded with no small measure of relief. She had never shown the words to anyone – not even Zak – but then no one had ever made her want to share that one part of herself that she kept apart. She didn't just fly a Viper; she was a Viper pilot. It defined her. It was all she was, and some days all she wanted to be.
Not woman, not daughter, not fiancée.
I fly because it is a choice; or is it?
Who would I be without the freedom of flight?
What could be worth the sacrifice of losing my wings?
I have lost the other half of my soul, and yet have lived;
Could I lose my wings and do the same?
And what does it mean, I wonder,
That my wings are more a part of me than my soul?
"Kara, this is… incredible," he told her
She gave a shrug. "Sometimes, especially on long flights, my mind just seems to drift. When I get keyed up I write stuff," she said softly. "It kind of…. gets it out of my head. I guess that sounds stupid. I was going to tear it out, but I hated to tear up the book…"
"No," he said swiftly, placing a hand on her arm and looking up into her eyes. His glasses were off and for a moment – just a moment – it was like looking at Zak. Eyes warm, and brown, and deeper than she had ever thought possible. Memory sparked, and then receded as she remembered where she was and who she was with. "This is the best part," he was telling her. "And you're right that most people wouldn't understand. But by the Lords, I do; every word."
She gave another careful shrug, afraid that his praise would cause the tears she'd held at bay when she'd looked into Zak's eyes to flow. She couldn't stand that. This man had seen her through enough grief and sorrow; he didn't deserve more on his special day. "Okay, so we have coffee, present, dinner's done, and that leaves one thing."
"What's that?" he asked with a smile and the air of a child at holiday. She grinned at the enthusiasm he was finally showing.
"Music," she told him with a wink. She tugged the small player from the bottom of the basket – one of the few to survive the war, and hers only because she'd had it in her locker when the world had ended. Recorded on it were over two thousand songs, but she was only looking for one. She dialed through the choices until she found what she wanted, clicked the button for external speakers, and a gentle melody filled the room. His smile filled it as well, which brought on hers.
"Evie Tompson," he said softly. "Lords, how long has it been…?"
"My tastes have always been rather eclectic. Zak programmed that for me years ago. I thought you might like it."
"You're too young for this generation of music," he told her with a mock glare.
"Betty liked it, so I got used to it," she admitted. "That and a few others. I don't like all the old stuff, but a few songs stuck with me. This one did, and the next. I think I have several of hers on there; I never have time to listen to it anymore."
Sure enough, the next song was beginning, it's gentle melody and haunting alto voice filling his room. Bill looked at her for a moment, then cocked his head sideways as he asked, "A favor?"
Her mind flashed back to previous thoughts that he never asked anything of anyone which wasn't directly in the line of duty. "What?"
"Dance with me," he requested. "This was… Iilya loved this song."
Kara gave a small soft smile of her own as she stood next to him. Bills arms went around her, and she rested her head against his shoulder and her hands on his waist. They swayed like that through the length of the song, and then through the next which was just as slow and by the same artist. When that one ended, the player was silent, having reached the end of the playlist.
But Bill didn't release her; not at first. He just held on. She could tell from the hitch in his breathing that he was affected by the music, and it occurred to her that while he had been there for her when she had grieved the loss of Zak, no one had done the same when he had lost his wife. Enormous waves of guilt washed over her as she released his arms and wrapped her arms around his body, just holding on. He was so strong for all of them; he needed someone to be strong for him once in a while. Yes, Iilya's death had been mixed in with the trillions of others on that day, but it was no less real because of it. And back then, no one had been able to help one another because they were so far down themselves. She wondered if he'd ever cried for his wife, if he'd ever had regrets…. If he still missed her the way she missed Zak.
She wasn't sure how long they stood there; maybe minutes or maybe hours. Finally though, he sniffled once and stepped back slightly. His eyes were shiny, but he wasn't crying. At least not now. A few tears had already fallen and dried, leaving salty white trails against dark skin..
"Thank you," he whispered.
She couldn't think of a thing to say to that, so she just gave him a gentle squeeze. He leaned forward and rested his lips against her forehead, giving a gentle kiss that was simple thanks, partly for the birthday party, but more likely for what had come after.
Neither of them heard the hatch open, but both jumped apart as it swung rudely open and Lee Adama stepped inside. "What the hell?" he yelled. Then, seeming to realize what he'd done, he grabbed the hatch and slammed it back into the closed position behind him, standing before it with a glare of absolute betrayal on his face.
Kara closed her eyes in resignation, resting her head against Bill's chest for just a moment, drawing strength. It seemed for everything good that happened, something bad had to follow. The dinner had been good, and the dance had been better. She could only imagine the hell they were both going to pay to make up for it.