William Adama had known that word traveled fast on a battlestar, but he was unaware of just how quickly lies could fly until he walked into CIC the next afternoon to begin his shift. Every eye seemed to be on him as he glanced at Lieutenant Gaeta to receive his reports. Unlike the time before the war, there was no standard stack of routine communications. Instead, he got reports on patrols, fleet necessities or emergencies from the prior shifts, and thankfully some assurance that there was no indication of Cylon presence in the area.
But this morning, the Lieutenant didn't meet his eyes as he passed the reports. Nor did he say a word. From the corner of his eyes, William could see the men and women under his command watching, and yet as soon as he turned his head they were immediately occupied with something else. As a man who had commanded respect – and well earned at that – for more than a decade by his rank alone, the situation was confusing.
He thought it might be something with Kara. After all, they had spent a lot of time together the day before, and she might have been seen leaving his quarters at a late hour. Rumors had flown before, they might be flying again. But previously the rumors had been a source of amusement to the crew. He had seen smiles and heard whispers. Now the atmosphere showed little more than animosity towards him.
"Colonel Tigh," he called out, dismissing Gaeta with a glance.
"Yes, Sir," Paul answered, his voice quick and sure.
"Command office," he said simply.
While his primary office was a part of his living quarters, this secondary office had been placed in CIC for private meetings during wartime. In an emergency situation, the commander might be unable to leave CIC and yet need information that could not be common knowledge, as had actually occurred during the initial Cylon attack. It wasn't a large room, nor was it comfortable, but the blocked off area was relatively soundproof and served its purpose adequately. If there was to be any yelling, the crew wouldn't hear it.
When he heard the door closing behind him courtesy of his XO, William Adama knew that he had been right. Something was up. "Report," he told the Colonel brusquely.
Tigh didn't hedge. "Your son has a black eye, your lead pilot got in late, and both were seen going into and out of your quarters last night. Now, rumor has it that the two of them had it out over what you and Thrace have been doing behind closed doors. From what I hear – and it's damned little because they know we're close – that little soft spot you have for the girl has become common knowledge." Bill watched his best friend give a shrug. "From where I stand, it looks pretty fishy."
The Commander sighed and sat himself down in the stiff metal chair by the far wall, all of twelve feet from his second in command had done the same. "Shit."
Paul took a seat across from him, then looked up to meet his eyes. Thankfully, William didn't see accusation there. He saw concern. He saw curiosity. Hell, Saul might laugh himself silly if he had known that Kara often looked at him in just the same way. "What's going on, Bill?" his friend asked. "I can pretty much filter out the impossible – or at least improbable – but even I see something that isn't adding up."
"Kara didn't hit Lee," William began. "I did."
"What the hell?" Under other circumstances, the look on his XO's face would have been hysterical.
"He made some… rude suggestions. I hit before I thought. If you want proof, you can still see the bruises on my knuckles," he added bitterly. "I'm an old man; I don't heal quickly."
Paul shook his head. "I've seen that boy tear you up one side and rip you down the other," he marveled. "And you've never lifted a hand to him. What in hell did he say?"
That was something William Adama would not repeat. "Enough," he admitted cryptically. "The matter has been cleared up within the family. That's all anyone needs to know."
Paul shook his head. "It's already way beyond that, Bill. The Commander has been accused of having an affair with his son's girlfriend, a woman half his age. You walk on water to these people, and I'm not sure there are enough life preservers on this boat to keep you afloat."
"She's just a friend, Saul," William said in frustration, running his hands over his face and fingers through his hair. "She's someone who will drop the blasted "sir" over a meal, and knows what day my birthday's on. That doesn't make her a lover; it makes her a friend, or even a daughter. What is so damned hard to understand about that?"
Paul sat back in his chair. "Lee's not talking," he added casually. "Neither is Thrace. It's making things… complicated. If there were some suggestion of innocence on your part, you'd think one of them would be running to your defense, or at least minimizing the rumors. Instead, they aren't often seen in the same room at the same time."
"Is there a problem with them working together?" William asked. He'd considered that the night before, after Lee had left. If this put tension between his lead pilot and CAG, then it would be more than visible. It would be unacceptable. On the other hand, Lee had seemed okay with the situation when he'd left the room. Hell, none of this was adding up.
"Not that I've heard," Saul admitted. "But the crew won't talk around me any more than they do around you. I heard Dee mention something to Gaeta about some bets that were floating around – who would get into Starbuck's flight suit first, I believe was the wager. If it makes you feel any better, the odds are in your favor."
"Thanks," William said dryly.
"You had to know they'd talk," Saul told him. "Aside from being bored out of their skulls and looking for a reason to gossip, this is the first time you've shown any interest in… well… anything since the war began. She's the first person you've spoken to outside a public setting, and you've bent the rules for her too many times to count. They aren't blind, Bill. And most of them don't know a thing about Zak, or your relationship with her before the war started. All they see is that their king has chosen his queen."
"It isn't like that," William said in frustration.
"I'm sure it isn't," Paul agreed. "But it is something. You spend a lot of time together, and I get the feeling it's more than just reminiscing about old times. What is it you see in that girl?"
William shook his head. He'd asked himself the same question a thousand times, and the answers were too numerable to list. "She makes me smile," he finally said. "And laugh, and feel human. When she's around, I'm more than a commander, or an old man, or a Holy Lord. I'm… a person. I can say what I want and know she won't hold it against me. Hell, that's something I can't even get from my own son."
"Go on," Paul said, as though he knew there was more.
And there was. "She's lovely," William said softly. "And I suppose she reminds me of Iilya in a lot of ways. She still has that… fire, I suppose it is. That energy that living takes away. She's not a child, but she's not completely jaded either. She has a maturity that goes way beyond her age. Lords, if I were younger I might fall in love with her. But you know me, Saul. The Galactica is my only priority. I don't even have a choice anymore."
"It sounds like more than… admiration," Paul commented. "You've always felt… something for her. Are you sure you aren't infatuated?"
"I may be old, but I remember the difference," William said with a wink. "I'm not attracted to her, at least not that way. But I do enjoy her company, and it's flattering that she seems to enjoy mine."
"Makes sense," Paul said noncommittally. "At least to me. I'm not so sure about the crew. You don't want to get on the com and tell them what you just told me; I'm sure of that."
"So what do we do about it?" William asked almost rhetorically. "If they've already made up their minds, then how to we change them? And why in hell do we have to?" he added in a morose tone. "I'm not the Holy Lord they think I am. No, I'm not in a relationship now. But someday I might want more than this command," he said thoughtfully. "What if I did decide to court a woman, or marry… why should my crew have any say in that?"
"Bill," Paul began, and his words were clearly chosen very carefully. "You are a Holy Lord to these people. You aren't human to them. You aren't… a man. You have no needs, no weaknesses, and no flaws. They have to believe that. If they don't, then there's no way they could follow you into an abyss with any level of trust at all. No, they won't tolerate your humanity. They can't afford it. I know that's not fair to you, but it's how it is. Hell, it's all they can do to tolerate mine, regardless of what changes I've made in my life. Think about it, they trust me because you do. They take my orders because you command it. You don't even know the hold you have over them. They don't just trust you; they revere you."
William closed his eyes and let the truth of his XO's words wash over him. Damn. He couldn't have it both ways, could he? He couldn't be both their trusted leader and their human friend. His son's words came back to him, and his own as well. Lonely. Lee could have no idea. Perhaps it was his only option. He wished he knew. "How do I fix this?"
"Ignore it," Tigh said on a sigh. "It'll blow over. With any luck at all, some poor fighter pilot will get past that mouth and those fists, and once she's hooked up with someone her own age the rumors will fade. In the meantime, keep everything public." Bill's best friend's eyes met his. "Unless there is something going on," he added, almost as an afterthought.
William closed his eyes. He would not repeat all he'd just said. Saul could take it or leave it; at this point he didn't care. "She should have been my daughter, Saul," he said quietly. "Some days it feels like she is. Hell, maybe I'm just used to having two children and I don't know any other way."
"What happened last night?" his XO asked.
The question was slipped in so neatly, so out of context, that Bill answered without thinking. "She let me fly," he said on a whispered breath. He turned, looked at his friend, and let the excitement show. "The Raptor flight to and from Colonial One; she let me fly."
The grin spread slowly across Tigh's face. "Hot damn," he said, his tone as wondrous as Bill's had been. "How does she feel?"
"Like the sims," Adama admitted with a wink. "Only…"
"Yeah," Saul said. An understanding passed between them that only men denied what they had once been privileged to do could understand. William had lost his wings to failing vision; Paul had lost them to one-too-many bar brawls. William had to wonder if his friend knew just how much like Starbuck he was. Hell, that was probably why they couldn't get along; they were too similar, even though they'd never admit it.
"Then she found me coffee," he told his friend with a wink. "And we ate, and danced to music I haven't heard in years."
Saul nodded, but there was a softening to his expression that was probably as close to forgiving Kara Thrace as William thought he could come. "I guess she knows how to throw a party," he said. "You want to tell me why you let her do it when you won't let me?"
William looked down, slightly embarrassed. Paul had threatened him with birthday parties since he'd known him, but had also had the courtesy not to make good on his threats. "I didn't let her," he said. "She just did it."
"She doesn't even listen to you," Paul said, shaking his head. "She's worse than my ex." A look of pain crossed the XO's face; William decided it was best to ignore it.
"She's a good person," Bill said firmly. "So are you, although I'm one of the only people you let see it. Did it ever occur to you that Kara might be the same way? She's not as tough as she looks, whatever your impressions of her, and if you use that against her I'll see to it that you're mopping decks."
Tigh looked uncomfortable, shifting in his seat before he stood and not looking Bill in the eye. "I know better than to upset a Holy Lord," he muttered. "I'm going to bed. The shift is yours."
And Bill laughed, because there really was nothing else he could do.
"How's the eye?"
Lee had just opened the door to the CAG's office to see Kara peeking around a locker at him. He looked around himself, checked to be sure that they were alone, and then nodded for her to come into his office. "Hurts like hell," he admitted as he closed the door behind them. "But not nearly as much as my pride."
"Yeah, well it tends to be the first thing to fry," she admitted. Instead of taking the seat he gestured to, she hopped up on his desk, scattering a neat stack of reports all over the desk.
"Who could have known he had a hook worse than yours," Lee muttered as he tried to straighten the mess she'd made. He managed to grab most of the papers, but a few were beneath her butt. "Up," he ordered.
She shifted to one side, and then to the other, letting him retrieve his work. If the fit of her flight suit caught his attention – tight material over a perfectly rounded behind – then he didn't dwell on it. She was a friend. A sister. Yeah, right.
With his work finally at a safe distance from his Lead Pilot, he took the seat he'd offered her and looked up to where she sat. "I tried to find you last night," he said softly. "I do owe you an apology."
She shook her head at that. "You gave me one."
He lowered his eyes, unable to meet hers. "I don't even know why I thought… Hell, I guess it was circumstance combined with fatigue. I feel like I should be doing penance or something.
She laughed; Lee liked the sound. Kara didn't laugh often. That thought struck him out of nowhere, too. How long had it been since he'd really heard her laugh? Not just a casual snicker like she was doing now, but a real laugh? He knew it hadn't been in the last two and a half years, that was for damned sure. She had laughed at jokes, or in excitement over a good flight, but he hadn't heard the fits of giggles that she had once been known to have. He hadn't heard that since the last time she and Zak… Lee pulled his mind back to the present as he heard her words.
"It's nothing anyone else wasn't saying," she told him with a shrug. "I should have told you what I had planned, but I figured that if I involved anyone else he wouldn't let me get away with it."
"And you weren't sure if I'd care," he added softly.
She shrugged at that, and now she was the one averting eye contact. "The two of you have been known to disagree," she admitted.
"It's getting better," Lee said thoughtfully. "It's not there yet, but it's better. We talked some last night, too. Oh, and thanks for the coffee."
The last had been said with a wink, and he had the pleasure of seeing a righteous indignation pass over her features. "That was supposed to be mine," she said with a feigned bitterness. "Cost me three cigars."
Lee smiled at that. "Thanks for… doing that for him. He's always hated birthdays, for as long as I can remember. Even mom didn't try to celebrate them. I remember when I was a kid asking if he even had one. She laughed at that, said of course, but wouldn't tell me when. I actually didn't find out until I was in my teens. Zak and I snagged his wallet and checked his ID to find out."
"Zak told me about that," she said with a smile. It didn't reach her eyes. "He also told me about the grounding the two of you got for it."
"Yeah," Lee said softly. "I'd tried to block that out. Anyway, how did you find out? Zak?"
She nodded. "He told me that as a… family member, and yet not one of his biological children, I might be able to get away with doing something. I've managed it a couple of times, but this is the first time he's really… needed it. Something's weighing him down, Lee. I don't know what it is, but something…"
"Something more than command," Lee agreed. He'd seen it as well. "And likely more than the rumors that are going around, because those started afterwards."
"I'm worried about him," she stated simply.
"We'll work on it," Lee promised. "But for now, can you just tell me you forgive me for absolute stupidity and illogical assumptions?" He didn't know why the words mattered; they just did.
She gave another half-smile. "I forgive you, Lee. In your place, I guess I would have thought it looked suspicious too. Besides, you've already paid for it. That eye is going to take two weeks to go back to normal."
"I've been getting weird looks all morning," Lee admitted, trying not to let her see how much it bothered him. "I'm not sure what to do about them."
She looked at him a moment in silence. "You know, everyone assumes I hit you. I've been asked a dozen times how I avoided the brig. We're going to have to say something."
"Why not the truth?" he asked with a shrug.
"They wouldn't believe it," she told him. "Not juicy enough."
Lee laughed. Sadly, she was probably right. The crew wanted a scandal; there wasn't one to be had. So they sat in silence, each thinking, neither speaking. Answers were not going to be easy to come by.
He wasn't sure how long they sat that way. Silence with Kara was a comfortable thing, so it didn't wear on him the way it did with other people. He didn't feel the need to blather on the way he did with some people. He didn't feel a need to chatter, or make excuses for his silence. Lee just felt… comfortable.
"Lords, this is the first quiet I've had in forever," she said softly.
Lee glanced up to see Kara's hands braced on the desk behind her and her eyes closed in enjoyment. He could appreciate the sentiment. When living with two-thousand of your closest friends – or in this case the Galactica's crew – quiet did indeed become pretty rare. He'd forgotten that, because he often had the opportunity to hide out in his office when things were eating at him. Kara had no such escape. Even in the Viper, regulation stated that passive communication channels had to be left open, so you were forced to listen to CIC comments, flight command, and in between was the constant faint static that the wireless couldn't filter out.
"You know, you can come in here anytime you need to," he offered. "You're Lead Pilot; you have the right."
She shook her head. "Your office," she told him. "Your paperwork."
"I don't mean to do paperwork," he told her as he leaned forward to smack her on the leg, the easiest place for him to reach. "I mean for the quiet. Sometimes the joys of having fifty bunkies can get overwhelming. If you need some quiet, you're welcome to bail."
"Offering me your humble abode," she sighed dramatically, both palms now covering her heart as she batted her eyelashes at him. Typical Kara; take a nice gesture – or an attempt at one – and turn it into a joke. She turned most things into a joke, and yet didn't bother to laugh. That brought Lee up short.
"Take it or leave it," he told her with a shrug. "I don't care either way." But he did, and her making light of the offer stung. In fact, it stung in the same way as her having a birthday celebration with his father and not even telling Lee, much less inviting him. Weren't they closer than that. He sure as hell wouldn't have made the offer to anyone else.
"Hey, what did I say?" she asked.
The concern on her face was genuine, but he didn't have the patience for it. "Forget it," he told her.
"No," she said firmly. "Something I said made you mad. What was it?"
"I'm not mad," he denied.
"Yeah, you are," she argued. "I want to know why."
"I'm not mad," he said again.
"You're mad."
"I'm not mad."
"You're mad!"
"I'm not frakking mad!"
She looked at him a moment, her eyes shooting daggers at him. "You are now," she said, and each word was clearly enunciated. She was holding on to her temper by a thread.
He glared. Damn her. "No shit," he said after a moment.
"Now tell me why you started out that way?" she asked softly. Just that quickly, the anger was gone from her voice. How did she do that? She was like a bottle of nitro, always in danger of being shaken and blowing up. But the explosions had been fewer lately, and they hadn't done as much damage. She was making an effort; he should do the same.
So he shook his head, not wanting to go through it all again, every drop of energy leaving his body. The woman was exhausting. "It doesn't matter."
She rolled her eyes, hopped down off his desk, and took a seat on his lap. He couldn't have been more surprised if she'd kissed him. She didn't go that far, but she did put her head down on his shoulder for a moment, her arms around his neck, and for some reason putting his own arm around her seemed to be the most natural action in the world.
"It matters," she told him. "You matter." The change in her demeanor from fury to gentle concern was disorienting. He just couldn't command any indignation to combat her moods.
Besides, what in hell could he say to that? "What's the punch line?" he asked in a tired voice.
"Hmm?"
Pulling back, he looked her in the eye. "Everything's a joke to you. I'm just… looking for the humor. I'm not finding it."
"Maybe this isn't funny," she offered.
"That was the point," he said on a sigh. "It seems like… every time I even try to so something for you, it winds up being some dumb joke."
"That's what this is about?" she asked, and the honest surprise in her voice took him off guard. She really didn't know. "I kid around a little bit and it ticks you off?"
When she put it that way, it seemed stupid. Hell, maybe it was. "Yes… No… Hell, I don't know. I just don't even know when you're serious anymore."
"Life is too serious," she told him. "We all need some levity."
He thought about that, and then let his mind go back to what had sparked the entire argument in the first place. He had offered her some peace and quiet, and she had made a joke. Damn, it was stupid. "Why am I always apologizing to you?"
"Hell if I know," she told him, resting her head back down on his shoulder.
Once more, silence fell around them. But this time, Lee didn't interrupt it. He didn't worry about it, or offer anything. He didn't even really consider what they were going to do about his father, and the burdens he was carrying. Lee just settled in and enjoyed, because he was damned tired of apologizing for trying to do the right thing.
"Lee?"
His eyes closed in dread. Lords, what had he done this time? "What?"
"I'm sorry," she said softly.
He gave her a gentle squeeze, and the word he would have needed in her place. "Forgiven."