Chapter 9
Kara surfaced slowly, opening her eyes to a total darkness that was disorienting. It actually took her a moment to realize that her eyes were open, and that while her back was chilled she was resting against a warm weight from head to chest. It took her a moment more to realize that the resilient surface wasn't her bed, but Lee's flight suit clad legs. She shifted herself slightly, still unable to see, but flooded with memories that she would just as soon forget.
While she was warm enough from the chest up, and also across her back, her legs were another matter entirely. She felt like they were frozen in place, and moving them took more than a little effort.
"G'morning," Lee said in a gravelly voice.
"Mmm," was her only reply as she shifted stiff muscles, more than a little embarrassed to have turned her friend into a convenient pillow.
"Stay," he said, his voice still hoarse. "You're warm."
And she did, because he was right. Also because movement had made her dizzy. "How long was I out?" she asked, and found that her own voice didn't sound much better than his. It was the cold, she decided. And their oxygen level was definitely lower if simple movement was sapping her strength.
He shifted his arm, reaching over her head with the other to touch his wrist. Until then, she hadn't realized that he'd kept his hands tucked beneath her body. Sensible, she thought. It was the way to keep warm. "About four hours," he finally answered.
"Shit."
"Adrenaline," he told her. "The crash… always bad."
If their oxygen was this low after only four hours, they were in trouble. "Why is the O-2 so low?" she asked, shifting herself to allow him to tuck his hands back beneath her.
"Not," he answered, and she felt a shiver run through him. "But the… cold…"
"Makes it worse," she finished. And then it occurred to her that she was shivering a lot less than he was. She also came to the conclusion that the reason movement was so difficult was that he had not only one arm, but also several blankets wrapped around her. "Lee?"
"Hmm?" It was more grunt than question.
"Why do I have all the blankets?"
There was a long silence. "You were shivering," he finally said, with a definite quaver to his voice. Men. Not the brightest creatures that the Lords ever created, she decided.
"Here," she said as she moved up his body, taking a seat between his legs, her back to his chest.. He wasn't kidding about the cold. His flight suit was like ice, although she knew that along their timeline the temperatures should still be around sixty. It sure as hell felt colder than that. She untucked the blankets from around her shoulders as she moved into position, then tucked the corners over his shoulders. He was doing a little too much shivering to argue, so when she leaned him against him and pinned him between the wall and her body, he had little reaction beyond putting his arms around her to pull her in close. Now they were lined up from head to toe – more or less – with her back to his front, her bottom in his lap, and the blankets around both of them.
She shivered herself for a moment or two, but finally the heat seemed to seep between them, enclosed by the heavy blankets. His arms were around her body, hands tucked beneath her arms, and her own were crossed over his. It was going to be a long wait, so they might as well get comfortable. "Your turn to sleep," she told him quietly.
"No," he said. He didn't argue – there was no give in his voice – but simply stated fact.
"Why?"
Silence for a long time. Too long. "Lee?"
He still didn't speak for a long time, and when he did it wasn't reassuring. "I'm not sure I'd wake up," he admitted.
"You let me sleep," she reminded him, grateful that at least moving around a bit had him talking a bit more normally. He must be warming up.
"At first I wasn't worried. You needed the sleep. When it got cold, I kept a hand on your chest just in case. Made sure you were breathing."
She let a breath go, not having been aware that she had been holding it. "Thanks," she finally said. What else could she say? "It's my turn now. You need the sleep."
He didn't answer, and she knew she couldn't force it. She did however keep herself awake. Her hands weren't anywhere near his chest, but she could feel the warm breath by her cheek where his chin rested on her shoulder. It was slow and even, so if he wasn't sleeping then he was at least resting.
Somewhere in the dark silence, the fear that had been nagging at her finally released. Worst case scenario was that they would die here. While not her first preference, at the very least she wasn't in pain, and she wasn't alone. Further, it wasn't by Cylon hand, and for some reason that was important to her. She was cold, yes, even with Lee's not insignificant heat behind her. Her front was more than cold, letting her know that somehow they had made a miscalculation regarding the heat. She didn't know if it had been deliberate in favor of oxygen, or if they had just been erroneous in their estimation of their power, oxygen, or both. At this point it didn't matter. It was too dark to find their way back through the controls to change anything, so they had to settle in and make the best of it. Yes, she could think of many worse ways to die than in the arms of a friend.
But that didn't mean that she wanted to die here. In fact, if she had her way she'd live a very long and productive life. She just couldn't give up the small kernel of hope that they might get out of this. Oddly, it wasn't really even for herself that she wanted to live. It was for a friend.
She had watched Bill Adama lose one child, and it had very nearly torn him apart. If they weren't found in time, not only would he lose Lee, but her as well. Somehow she didn't think that he could survive that, and she knew damned well that the fleet couldn't' survive without him. Odd how it appeared the life of every man, woman, and child in the human race seemed to come down to two people on a very cold spaceship. That was melodramatic of course, but she was feeling that way.
"Still with me?" The voice was breathed, more than spoken, into her ear. Rather than replying with words, she tightened her arms over his. "Do you want me to check the settings?" he asked. "Maybe I was wrong when I estimated the O-2 level."
"Doesn't matter," she said simply. "I know for damned sure what the power relays were reading, and it's not consistent with the lack of heat. All that means is that the readings were off. Looking again isn't going to change that."
She was silent again, because he knew she was right. He was probably making up excuses to talk anyway. It was easy to lose the feeling of reality when feeling so cold and completely sightless. She shivered again, the cold still getting to her. The suits were designed to keep out brief periods of cold or heat, but not extended exposure to either. Vipers tended to move quickly, so temperature extremes weren't normally an issue. Just as Lee's heat was seeping into her back, so was the persistent cold nagging at her front.
"Talk to me," he whispered.
She smiled at that. Lee Adama showing weakness; amazing. She could have argued about oxygen levels and conservation of energy, but something in his voice told her that he didn't want to talk. He needed to.
"What about?"
"Anything," he whispered again, warmth against her cheek and in her ear. "Nothing. Hell, I don't care."
"Are you claustrophobic?" she asked. Maybe the darkness was getting to him.
"No," he told her, "But I really hate the dark. There aren't even any stars visible. I didn't know it could be this dark."
"Close your eyes," she advised. "It helps some; fools your mind into thinking it's just in your head."
"How do you know?" he asked.
She debated whether or not to answer, then decided that she might as well. At the very least it would take his mind off where they were. "Practice," she told him. "When I was a kid… let's just say I spent a lot of time in closets, sometimes voluntarily and sometimes not, but I learned to make it easier over time."
"Why would you be in a closet?"
She took a deep breath, or as close to one as she could manage. It didn't ease the tightness in her chest. Some things she didn't talk about, ever. Some things she hadn't even told Zak, and they were going to be married. She'd mentioned of course that her childhood hadn't been ideal, and that she really didn't feel comfortable with the idea of having children, but he had assured her that it didn't matter. All that mattered was that they loved one another. Lords help her, she had believed him.
"Kara?"
"My dad drank," she said simply. "When he was sober, and I got on his nerves, he'd lock me in the closet. Usually it was just a few minutes, but sometimes… when he drank he forgot."
"Lords, Kara," he said softly, with just enough pity in his voice that she couldn't stand it.
"It wasn't so bad," she remarked, trying to do so casually. "Hell, sometimes I went there without being locked in. If he got to drinking before I got on his nerves, then when he started to get… well, I'd go in the closet and wait it out. Sometimes an hour or two until he passed out, and sometimes all night. It wasn't bad, Lee. It's just how it was."
"Did you have brothers or sisters?"
She shook her head, thinking that if he couldn't see her, then at least he could feel it. "Not that I know of. It's a little fuzzy. One time he hurt me – really hurt me – and then he was gone. I got fostered out fairly early, and they were good people. I stayed with them until I was sixteen, then enlisted. I saved cubits and paid my way through flight school, then slipped into an orphan reserve slot at the Academy. And the rest you know; my life story."
"No wonder you're a tough one," he said on a whisper, and she felt his lips brush over her cheek; maybe a kiss, and maybe not. She couldn't be sure. But it was warm, and warmth was something to be treasured right now.
"I guess that's why I like your Dad so much," she finally said. "I never had one. Not really."
"I didn't either," Lee said softly. "Dad was like… this legend. Zak and I were taught to revere him, and when he came home it was beyond big. We wouldn't let go of him for days. We absolutely idolized him. And then he was gone again, sometimes for a month and sometimes more than a year. Mom cried a lot, told us how important he was to keeping the colonies safe. I've probably spent more time with him in the last six months than I had in my whole life up until then." He gave a self-derisive laugh. "Not much to complain about after what you went through."
"We all have our demons," she said, still unable to catch her breath. "How low did you set the O-2?"
"Low," he answered. "We just don't know how long…"
"I know," she agreed, at least her mind did – her words did. "But it's hard to breathe. It's like being smothered slowly."
"I can turn it up," he told her. "It will decrease our time, but it would be more comfortable."
"No," she said. "I don't want to be cold again, and I can take this. I'll just pretend it's an extended launch."
"That's what it feels like," he agreed. "About four G's that won't go away."
"Yeah, and I don't have someone leaning on me."
He rubbed his cheek against hers. "It's worth it to stay warm."
They were quiet for a while longer, both catching their breath after the short conversation. Kara had no clue what had drawn her to talk about the history she had all but forgotten; she supposed that the difficult times in life tended to remind one of the more difficult times already survived. She took that as assurance she would survive again. Lords, she hoped so. She prayed so.
"Lords of Kobol, hear my prayer," she whispered. "Please take notice of your son and daughter, and send us help. Not for me, I pray, but for William Adama. He's lost too many children, Lords. Please don't take us both from him at once."
"So say we all," Lee whispered back.
Kara startled; she'd had no clue she was speaking aloud. She had thought the prayer was silent, as most of her prayers were, leftover comforts from the only good parts of her growing up.
"Are you worried?" she asked.
He was silent so long that she knew he was going to tell her the truth; a lie would have been faster to fabricate. "I'm concerned," he finally said. His watch flashed for a moment – too quickly for her to see it.
"How long?"
"Seven and a half," he told her. "They might be here any time."
"Or not," she said softly, surprised that it had been so long. Now it wasn't just a matter of cold, but also of time. Theirs was limited, even at best. This wasn't by any means the best.
She felt Lee's arms tighten around her, and she responded by squeezing them with her own. "They'll be here," he told her, confidence fading from his voice as compared to what it had been."
The next time he checked his watch was at the ten hour point. Quite some time later, Kara knew it had been too long. Oxygen was getting fainter, and breathing more difficult. At some point, Lee had fallen asleep. She didn't wake him. It was easier this way. If they had to die, at least it was a gentle death, although nothing like what she would have expected. For some reason, she had expected to go out in a blaze of light, most likely in battle. The thought of falling asleep just didn't set with her, so she fought it as long as she could. When blackness finally ate through the icy silence, the only thing that kept Kara from fighting it was the arms still solidly around her and the soft breath in her ear. Thrashing about wouldn't save her; it would only wake Lee, and there was no point in making this difficult for both of them. So she closed her eyes, embraced the dark, and let it take her.
He was warm. Why this was significant, he couldn't have said, but it was the predominant sensation he was feeling. Warmth. Blessed, wonderful, reassuring warmth that kept the ice at bay.
Ice. Cold.
With a jolt, Lee awoke to find himself slightly bound by numerous blankets and a mask over his face. He jerked slightly, head thrashing to the side, and not recognizing initially what was wrong and then panicking when he did.
"Easy, Son." The voice was deep, solid, and familiar. It offered comfort as nothing else could have; not even the warmth of the woman he'd become accustomed to in the suffocating, freezing ship. Still, panic aside, the voice of his father reached the child within him and kept him calm, or at the very least coherent.
"Kara?"
"She's right here," his father answered, stepping back to allow him to see the cot next to him and the woman lying there. Like him, she had a mask on her face and tubes extending from her blankets. For that matter, so many blankets that only her face visible, barely that with the mask. She looked impossibly pale; almost blue. "She'll be fine. You both will."
Lee released a breath, then took another gulp of coveted air. They were here. They had made it. "How…?"
"As soon as we realized that you hadn't arrived on the Rising Star, we started searching. From what we can tell, an engine blew out and threw you away from the fleet, then you must have continued drifting. By the time we found you, got you secured and back to the Galactica, both of you were unconscious."
"How long?" he asked on a croak.
"It was two hours before you were reported missing," Adama said gently. "And nearly ten to find you and get you back home. Doctor Salik has already done scans on the two of you, and he found no damage due to either the cold or the oxygen deprivation. In fact, he said the cold just might be what had kept you alive; your bodies were just this side of hibernating. You used less oxygen, so it lasted until we could get to you."
"Kara?"
"She's fine, Son. Sleeping, just like you were. She'll wake when she's ready."
He nodded, his throat too sore to bother with speech for the moment, although he had hundreds of questions forming in his rapidly waking mind. His mouth was dry and cottony, and his head hurt. None of it mattered when compared to the woman next to him. "How long… back?"
"A couple of hours," Adama answered, his hand remaining on Lee's shoulder. It had started out there for restraint, but appeared to be remaining to offer comfort. Lee had to wonder who was offering comfort to Kara… who would be there when she woke up in confusion? "We'll keep you in here until she's awake," his father told him with more understanding in his voice than Lee could comprehend. "I won't make you leave her."
Lee closed his eyes. Had he been that obvious? He supposed it wasn't a mystery that the two of them were friends, but if they had been found together… He remembered how they had been sitting, and it took less than that to make rumors go nuts on the Galactica. He didn't want matters worse rather than better. "Who picked us up?"
"Chief Tyrol took a team out personally. He was so upset that one of his engines, however old, had failed. He made it his responsibility. Lieutenant Gaeta tracked the shuttle, planned out a route, and Tyrol went out to tow you back. We had medical standing ready when they cut the shuttle open. You and she were so still…"
"I fell asleep," he said softly. "I was just so damned cold."
"Kara too," Adama said quietly. "I think hypothermia would have gotten her if you hadn't been holding her. As it was you were both dangerously cold when they pulled you out. Then again, as the Doctor reminded me, it was a good thing. At regular temperatures, your bodies would have required more oxygen than was available. We could be looking at severe oxygen deprivation and most likely brain damage. With your bodies nearly shut down, there was no damage done."
"Maybe not physically," Lee muttered, swallowing again to relieve his dry throat but having little success. "But you try sitting in a pitch black ship with no heat and very little air, especially when you have a friend relying on you. I'll be a long time before I turn the lights off."
His father smiled, but Lee wasn't sure how much of what he was saying was a joke. At the very least Kara had some – if not good memories – experience in dark, closed spaces. Lee hadn't, and the experience was more than was willing to cope with at the moment. He had never been particularly claustrophobic, even managing the sensory deprivation time at the Academy with no difficulty. But he'd been in no danger then; this time had been different. This time he hadn't known if he was going to get out or not.
"Why am I tied down?" he asked.
"You aren't. It's blankets, mostly; one heating and two normal to retain the heat. The IV has warm fluid as well. You're still a bit colder than Salik would like, but your temperature is coming up quickly. Kara's has been normal for a while since she's smaller than you, but she's being a little stubborn about waking up. The doc can do it with drugs, but he thinks it's better if she wakes up on her own so for the time being we wait."
He turned his head back to the side, watching Kara. She was as still as before; just as pale.
"Dad?"
His father looked down at him eagerly. "What?"
How could he ask this without sounding stupid? It was irrational, and silly, and entirely unpractical. But he needed it, just for the reassurance. "Do these things roll?" He patted the bed he was lying on.
"Where do you want to go?" his father asked, but there wasn't confusion on his face; just a kind of understanding that Lee didn't want to analyze.
"If there's room, can you stick me over there?" He gestured towards Kara's cot. His father said nothing, but nodded and fiddled with something at the foot of the cot before rolling it over to Kara's. Lee fished around under his blankets until he could release one hand, then slipped it up under Kara's blankets. It wasn't until then that he realized the flight suits were gone, leaving the two of them clad in hospital attire. It didn't matter though, not with half a dozen blankets between them.
After a moment of reaching and searching, Lee found Kara's warm hand under the mass of blankets. He traced the fingers to palm, and then moved to her wrist where he found a pulse, strong and steady. Only then did he relax, letting the warmth of the blankets take him back under, dropping him into a healing, restful sleep.
Bill Adama watched his son's eyes close, and for the first time since he'd awoken the young man looked at peace. Bill couldn't imagine what it must have been like to huddle in a ship for hours on end, cold and without air, but he didn't think his son's words had been a joke. This would affect Lee, and most likely Kara as well.
Lee and Kara. Lords, he had thought that both were gone. During the interminable time while Lieutenant Gaeta had been running active sensors to find them – a reasonable precaution given that they were at war – William had quite literally held his breath. He'd lost Lee once, nearly a second time, and the same could be said for Kara. And yet, until he was faced the prospect of losing both of them at once, he hadn't really realized what fear could be.
The wait for the ship to be brought back to the Galactica – a tricky procedure at best – had nearly driven him insane. They were in there, and isolated, and yet even with Tyrol's ship only a few feet away, they were unable to get any life-preserving measures into place. They couldn't get the ship power, and they couldn't get its occupants any survival supplies. The situation had been beyond unacceptable; it had been terrifying.
He was a warrior, and had been for most of his life. He'd fought in wars, been injured in battle, and had faced more life and death situations than he cared to remember. Still, facing his own death had been nothing when compared to facing the death of his children. And yes, Kara was as good as his own, even if he'd never told her as much. She might not have become his daughter-in-law officially, but they shared the bond of family just the same.
Bill had been right behind Salik's crew when they'd entered the ship, something they'd been unable to do in space because there was no docking capability in the old vessel. Having seen the charred outer shell, he had not expected them to be alive. With power all but drained, and oxygen depleted, his prayers had increased. He remembered once watching Kara say grace before a meal, and wondered if she had been praying. He wondered if they'd had the chance, or if the explosion had knocked them both out. He didn't know which alternative his terrified mind preferred. The thought of them slowly freezing or suffocating wasn't something he wanted to contemplate, and yet losing them without their being able to even try to save themselves seemed almost worst.
When he'd entered the icy ship behind Salik's team, William had been struck by the cold, and then as emergency lights had illuminated the cabin his heart had stopped. Two still figures had been huddled against the back wall, unconscious and all but buried in blankets. He had watched Doctor Salik physically pry Lee's arms from around Kara, and between the blue of their skin and the cold, he had been sure that they were dead. Both of them; his entire family gone.
Thankfully, Salik had jumped to no such conclusions. He'd had their bodies stretched out, uniforms cut off, and warming blankets in place before Bill had been able to get close enough to touch them. That had been a blessing as well, because nearly thirty minutes later he had taken his son's hand in Life Station and had been shocked at how chilled the skin was even after that length of therapy. Kara had seemed marginally warmer when he'd kissed her forehead above the mask - wishing her a quick recovery - but that might have been because her smaller form had less volume to warm or because he had reached for her head instead of her hand, an area of the body which received significantly more blood flow. William didn't know – didn't care – but he wanted to see his son as warm. Warm, awake, and alert.
Now, thankfully, he had seen that. But it didn't relieve all his worry. Kara was still sleeping, although Salik assured him that it was sleep rather than some form of coma. Her brain activity was normal, as Lee's had been. And yet a father couldn't turn off the concern by receiving only a few moments of reprieve. Additionally, there was a certain amount of sting in the fact that Lee's concern had been for Kara rather than himself, but that was most likely the responsibility that Lee always carried. He habitually worried about others.
Nevertheless, it had been the comfort of Kara's hand that had allowed the young man to rest, and not his father's touch. Yes, it was petty and selfish, but it had been a long day. William Adama was hurt by his son responding to a sleeping woman rather than his wide-awake father. Sensible? Of course not, but then familial feelings rarely were.
On the other hand, he was just glad that his son had found comfort somewhere. The fear in Lee's expression when he had awoken had been almost more than any father could take. The worst of it was that he wasn't all-powerful anymore, and he wasn't almighty, as his sons had once believed. Instead, he was at the mercy of uncertain medicine and unpredictable circumstances. The situation was unacceptable; and he couldn't to a damned thing to change it.
One of the technicians had moved over to Lee, and she made no comment regarding the movement of his cot. Instead, she took a device and ran it over his forehead and then around behind his ear. Looking at the device, she smiled. "Ninety-seven, two," she stated. "Very close to normal. Has he been awake?"
"For a few minutes," William answered.
The technician smiled again, then moved around the cots rather than between them to check Kara in the same manner. The smile returned, followed by a quick adjustment to the warmer's controls.
"How is she?"
"Ninety-nine," Cassie answered. "I'm lowering the blanket temperature; we dong want to give her a fever." When he nodded his understanding, Cassie looked up to meet his eyes. "Has she been awake?"
William shook his head, and tried not to take the slight frown too seriously. Lee had woken up when he was ready, and Kara would do the same. It was all a matter of waiting.
But by the next morning, waiting wasn't what he wanted to do. It had been difficult enough when it had been only himself sitting in Life station to worry, but now with Lee sitting in a chair beside him wrapped in a blanket – this following a scene that William didn't care to remember about having to remain in bed when he felt fine – William was becoming concerned. Kara was still out, and showing no signs of stirring. He didn't know what to make of that. Questions directed to the doctor were neatly sidestepped, giving them no answers. The bottom line was that the man didn't know.
Granted, her temperature had been lower than Lee's when they'd been found, but it had also come back up more quickly. To William, that would indicate a more rapid recovery, and yet there Kara was, still completely away from them. Lee had gone beyond worried. He wouldn't leave her bedside, even to eat or sleep himself. Reminders that he had been in a similar state only hours before didn't make any difference to his son; Lee wasn't leaving her. William couldn't fault the young man, because he had felt the same way. Lee was taking her recovery very personally, whether because he had been on command for the mission or for some deeper reason, William couldn't be sure.
Finally, after nearly thirty-six hours of medical care, the doctor agreed that things were not proceeding as he wanted. William waited with Lee – exhausted beyond words or even coherent thought – while the doctor went to get a medication that would stimulate her body to wake. William had no clue why he was so reluctant to use it, but that seemed to be the problem.
When Salik returned, two technicians accompanying him along with a full life-support cart, William began to get the idea that this was more dangerous than he had considered. His look told the doctor that he was worried, and for a change words didn't have to be dragged from the physician. "Stimulants are hard on the heart," he explained briefly. "Especially when a system is already in shock from stress of any kind. The rescue equipment is only a precaution."
With that, William and Lee were nudged out of the way and two technicians assisted the doctor in administering the medication. The results weren't dramatic. In fact, William wondered if they had done anything at all. Yet still they waited… and waited. Even with the medication, it appeared that Kara was going to be as stubborn in this as she was in everything else; despite the drug, she wasn't going to wake up until she was damned good and ready. Glancing at the fear still filling his son's eyes, William said a quick prayer that she would do so soon… very soon.