If she'd just move, just… anything.
Lee Adama gave a sigh that was part fatigue and part frustration. Dammit, Kara. Why in hell won't you just wake up and look at me? Suddenly the sight of hazel eyes seemed to be the most important thing in the world. Living without that now was worse than sitting in the freezing darkness. At least then he'd been able to hold her, feel her heartbeat against him, and he had known that neither of them was alone.
Was she alone, now?
Lords of Kobol, you heard her prayer. Hear mine. Give her back to me. Let me know she's okay…
It was the same involuntary thought that had skittered through his mind a hundred times in the last twelve hours. That was the time during which he'd been really worried, the time when all their options were exhausted and they could only wait. The stimulant, which had been Salik's only recourse to her extended unconsciousness, had done nothing. It had put her in danger, yes – but it had done nothing helpful. She was still sleeping, as though it had never been given. Thankfully, it hadn't produced any side-effects either.
Lee hadn't really realized just how much life – how much movement and energy – Kara had radiated. He'd always just taken for granted that she lived in fast-forward. Now, seeing her form still, it was like seeing an extension of himself cut off. She was quiet, calm, and deathly still. Granted, her color was better than it had been and the mask was off her face, which helped her to look more like herself, but she was still far too quiet for his liking.
And that was the joke. How many times had he wanted her to just shut up for fifteen seconds? How many times had he wanted her to slow down long enough to think before she reacted? How many times had he sat, just watching, entranced by the constant motion? He would give any of those times just to see the flicker of an eyelid now. He just wanted her to wake up.
The doctor assured him – repeatedly – that she was only sleeping. Salik had no reason to lie, but this didn't seem like any sleep that Lee had ever seen. She didn't move, didn't turn over, and didn't make a sound. This was yet another unnatural aspect to Kara – the silence. She had always given a smart-ass remark to him or anyone else, and she could argue with anyone - and win - more than half the time. She could definitely scream your ears off when you'd let her. Even in sleep, he knew that she was rarely quiet. He'd passed by her bunk more than once when she was off shift and he was going on, and there was always a snore, a mumble, or a slight hum of sound. She just couldn't be quiet. Zak had told him once that she didn't have an off switch. Lee had believed his brother. But at the moment, Kara was definitely not "on."
He had been awake for three days now, and Kara had yet to flutter an eyelash. Doctor Salik had left her IV in, saying he had to do so until she was able to keep herself hydrated. Lee had been threatened with the return of his own when he'd refused to go to the mess hall to eat, and then had wound up with one anyway when his temperature had begun to rise and his chest tightened. Lee really couldn't even regret getting sick, because it kept the discussion of whether or not he could remain in Life Station to a minimum. For the time being, the mild case of pneumonia – probably caused by the extended exposure to cold air and reduced oxygen – was enough to grant him IV antibiotics and a pass from work. It wasn't that he wouldn't have written himself off the schedule anyway to stay by her side, but this had made it easier to explain.
The only real difficulty he'd run up against had been remaining in the room with her. While they'd both been in less stable condition, they'd been kept in the open bay where medics and doctors were close by to watch. Kara had been moved into her own room the same day that Lee had first lost his IV, and they'd tried to move him into one as well. He had let them, but he hadn't stayed there. At the time he'd thought he was well, if tired, and didn't need the bed. Later he'd known that he needed one, but couldn't find it in him to leave her side. She'd been with him through the worst that life had to offer, and he couldn't leave her to fight whatever this was – whatever was keeping her from them – alone.
"How is she?"
Lee didn't bother to look over his shoulder at his father. The man had been a shadow since he'd first woken up in the bay. At that time, Lee had been reassured by the commanding presence. But as his temperature had risen, and Kara's condition hadn't changed, his father's constant presence had become almost a nuisance. "The same," he finally said, certain that the older man wouldn't leave until he had his answers.
"And you?"
"The same," Lee repeated. His temperature was controlled by the medications they'd given him, and the antibiotics would take care of any infection. Breathing was easier, even if he had developed a slight cough.
Slowly, William Adama rounded the bed and took a place on Kara's other side. Lee glanced up, caught the expression on his father's face, and immediately softened. He might be a pain in the ass – checking up on him at every turn and nagging him to get some rest – but his father really did care about Kara. The unnatural sleep was wearing as much on the eldest Adama as it was on him. He was just worried; they all were. There was no reason that Kara shouldn't be awake. No reason they knew of, anyway. At the very least she hadn't developed the same wet cough and low grade temperature that Lee was fighting, so she might have at least evaded that particular consequence from their little misadventure.
"Have you slept?" his father asked.
"She's done enough for the both of us," Lee replied, and he knew his voice was too sharp. Hell, if their positions had been reversed Lee would likely be insisting that Kara get out and go to bed. "When she tells me to leave, I'll do it," he said softly, pausing to cough and then catch his breath. "Until then I'm here."
"We could have a cot brought in," his father said on a sigh. As concessions went, it was a big one, but Lee still shook his head. "Lee, you can't get better if you don't rest."
"I won't rest until she's okay," he said softly.
"She wouldn't want this," his father argued.
Lee said nothing at first, and then he chose his words carefully. "She's never left me," he said carefully. "Not when we lost Zak and I came apart, not when my ship gave out and I couldn't get home, and not when I thought the two of us would freeze to death on that ship. I won't leave her now."
"Where would she go on that ship?" Adama asked. He didn't comment on the other two comments Lee had made.
Lee just shook his head. "It wasn't just her presence. She talked to me, Dad. She… kept me from going nuts in the dark. I can't explain it, but she was there. I can't leave her; it wouldn't be fair."
Lee watched his father take Kara's hand in his, running blunt fingers along the skin on either side of her IV. "They're going to have to change this," he said absently.
Lee nodded. He'd seen the puffy skin around the needle earlier and had reported it to Cassie. She'd assured him that she would take care of it as soon as she finished her morning rounds. Lee believed her. Cass had taken damned good care of Kara in the last few days. She was quick, competent, and she tolerated his presence without argument, which was more than either his father or his doctor had managed. She gave him fair warning when she was going to do something that might expose Kara – like managing the catheter or bathing her – but other than that she let Lee hang around without argument. Hell, she even asked if he needed anything while he was there. He didn't know why she was so accepting when others were not, but she was. Lee was grateful. He was tired of arguing with everyone.
The feel of a hand on his back caused him to jump slightly, and that set off a slight bout of coughing. He was getting really sick of this. Turning his head, he saw Cassie standing behind him with a stethoscope in one hand and a simple smile. He wondered for a moment if he could conjure people up by just thinking of them, and decided against it. After all, every hope and prayer in the last few days hadn't brought Kara back.
"I just need to check your lungs," she said softly.
He submitted to the examination tolerantly if not willingly, breathing in deeply despite the discomfort when she asked. When finished, she smiled again and gave his father an approving nod. "He may not be listening, but he is recovering," she told the commander. Then she turned her attention back to Lee. "If you won't lie down, at least put your head down," she requested as she stuck an extra pillow at Kara's bedside. "You don't need to watch me start an IV."
He wanted to argue. He wanted to tell her that he didn't need the sleep, that needles didn't bother him, and that it was his responsibility to stay up and wait for Kara. He did none of those things, instead he reached for Kara's hand, moved the pillow into a more comfortable position, then laid his head down on it.
"How did you do that?" William Adama asked in a combination of disgust and frustration. He'd been asking his son to do the same for the last day and a half, and the younger man didn't even seem to hear him.
"I don't ask for much," Cassie said simply as she pulled a cart up beside her and began to sort out what she would need to start the new IV. "And I don't ask for what he can't give. I try to find what's in between. He won't leave her; that's a given, and it's not the problem. The problem is that he needs to rest. So you find a way to give one without taking away the other." She flashed a smile at him. "Don't tell me you are unfamiliar with the fine art of compromise."
He had to smile back. Frankly, he hadn't even thought of that. He was so used to just telling his men what to do – and seeing it done – that he simply demanded without further thought. It hadn't even occurred to him that he was asking Lee for something he couldn't give.
"If Lee was the one who wouldn't wake up, could you leave?" Cassie asked softly. She wasn't looking at him, but rather attending to her task of finding a new vein and preparing the site. "Even if you were asked, or ordered?"
Judging by the amount of time he'd spent in Life station with Lee fully conscious, still worried because he couldn't get him to follow doctor's orders, he knew he didn't have to answer the question. Cassie already knew.
So he turned his attention from the technician to Kara, still silent and unmoving in the bed. Doctor Salik had told him that she would wake when she was ready, and not before. He hadn't seemed overly concerned when the stimulant had not affected her, but then his manner was fairly guarded so William might have missed something. There had to be a reason for the extended unconscious state.
"Have you considered that she'd just tired?" Cassie asked in an absent tone, clearly more intent on her job than the conversation. "I mean, I don't think I've seen Lieutenant Thrace slow down for ten seconds since I've known her. She probably just needs the sleep and her body knows it."
"Lee hasn't slowed down either," he commented. "And he managed to wake up."
"Yes, well that's an entirely different form of stubborn. I really think he just did it to check on her anyway."
William smiled at the tech who had finished her task and was setting the flow rate for Kara's fluids. "You are an unusually observant woman," he remarked. Cassie just smiled back at him. "So, what's your opinion of the rumors going around. You must have heard them."
"I hear everything," she admitted, pausing to look at him. "I also watch and form my own opinions from what I see and hear first hand."
Despite himself, Adama was amused. "And what do you see and hear?"
Cassie's eyes moved over the couple asleep at the bed, Kara lying quietly and Lee sitting at her bedside with one of his hands holding hers and the other beneath the pillow she'd given him. They were both sound asleep, their breathing in rhythm with one another. Neither looked ill, or even particularly concerned. For all intents and purposes, they were sleeping comfortably. "I see two people who care about one another," she said carefully. "Maybe even more than they realize." She turned her head back towards Adama. "And I see a father who's worried about his children, even more than his ship or his reputation."
He couldn't meet the certainty in her eyes. She did indeed see quite a lot. "Observant," he finally admitted.
"They'll be okay," she told him, placing a gentle hand on his arm. "Just give them some time, and your trust. I've seen the scans, Commander. There's nothing wrong with her, and he's recovering despite his ignoring what the doctor tells him." She took a deep breath and looked up over his shoulder, most certainly not meeting his eyes. This surprised him, because she was always very straightforward with him. "He's put his life on hold for her, just the same as you have for him. That's all. And maybe… maybe the best way to show him how to trust is to go back to work. You can't do anything for him here; none of us can. Not any more than he can do something for her. It's all about waiting now." Her eyes came back to his with a snap. "Waiting is always the hardest part, but it goes more quickly if we keep busy."
She was a medical technician – probably younger than either Kara or Lee – and yet her advice was sound. There really wasn't anything he could do for Lee, except maybe to let him do what he needed to. Meanwhile, his ship was in Tigh's hands, and while he trusted the man with his life – his crew – his ship – William Adama had responsibilities that he had ignored for the better part of a week. From the moment he'd realized that his children were in danger, he'd placed the Galactica in Saul's competent hands and he had been a father. Perhaps Cassie was right; maybe it was time to get back to work.
"You'll call me if there's any change?" he asked softly. "In either of them?"
"Of course," se agreed. "But I'm not worried. Neither of them is alone right now."
Looking back to his children, he realized that she was right, on all counts. "Take care of them for me," he said softly.
"Yes, Sir."
He paused them, looking at the young technician with blond hair, blue eyes, and more comprehension than even an old man such as himself could manage at the moment. He'd always thought that maturity came with age, but now he had his doubts. Maturity came with wisdom, and this girl had plenty of it. So did Kara for that matter, and it was one reason he had always been drawn to her as much as an equal as the child she should be to him. His son had it as well, and it had been gained by his own experience, and not from the benefit of his father's influence. Generations were supposed to pass on their knowledge down from one to the next. William Adama found it enlightening that for this one instance the knowledge was being passed upwards, rather than down.
"You're a bright woman," he told her softly.
She smiled at that, and then shocked him to the marrow of his bones by stepping forward, reaching up, and kissing him on the cheek in much the same way that Kara had always done. "And you're a wonderful father," she told him. Then, drawing back she added, "And commander."
Her cheeks were pink with embarrassment, but she gave him another smile before she turned and walked out of the small room. He watched her, still stunned, but certainly not displeased. It had been a long time since he'd heard either one of those compliments, and he hadn't realized just how much he'd needed it until it was done.
In more than a little annoyance, Kara shifted herself in the bed. She had become addicted to the quiet, and the current disturbance was grating on her nerves. Granted, a cough wasn't something that anyone could control, but normally her fellow pilots had the courtesy to sleep in Life Station rather than to keep everyone else awake in squadron quarters.
She heard it a couple more times before the aggravation got the best of her and she opened her eyes. She would just have to help whoever it was to remember the art of courtesy; whether they liked it or not. She hoped she didn't wind up in the brig for her trouble, but at least it would be quiet there. She felt completely exhausted, and she needed her rest. They all did. You couldn't fight a war when you were half-awake.
The dim lights couldn't hide the unusual location she found herself in. This was not squadron quarters. She was not in her bed. And it wasn't some anonymous pilot doing the coughing.
It took a moment more for her to recognize that she was in Life Station, that Lee was the coughing individual beside her, and that she was hooked up to more tubes than she wanted to think about. An IV was in her arm, and next to her leg… she wouldn't think about that right now.
Memory returned slowly, in a fuzzy and inconsistent manner. Flashes of darkness punctuated by cold, the warmth of Lee's breath against her cheek, and a silence that was beyond anything she had ever experienced were the sensations that came to her first. After the sensations, came the knowledge of what had happened. She remembered the explosion then, and her panic. Then she remembered huddling with Lee at the back of a cold ship while they waited to die.
Which apparently hadn't happened, she realized. Lee was beside her, the blankets covering her were warm and comfortable, and her body was stretched out rather than cuddled up in Lee's arms. They must have been rescued at some point; she couldn't remember.
But she could feel, and one feeling she had was significant warmth in her right hand. She moved the fingers slightly in a gentle grasp, and was rewarded by Lee's squeezing her hand back. His head moved on the pillow, turning from side to side as though he was reluctant to wake, and then he raised his head. The smile that greeted her was a stunning surprise: relief, pleasure, and something more, which she couldn't define.
"Hey," he said softly, his voice deep and gravelly, then accented by a cough. "How are you feeling?"
She considered that, even as she squeezed Lee's hand again. For some reason, it felt good to have him there. "Tired," she admitted, her voice coming out sounding rougher than his had.
He smiled at that. "You've been asleep for three days," he told her with what sounded like exasperation, albeit feigned. "How tired can you be?"
She moved carefully in the bed, shifting stiff muscles and carefully moving her IV trapped hand so she didn't cause herself pain, and lay on her side. She watched Lee for a moment, not sure what she was looking for, but finding it. "What happened?" she asked.
"Too long a story to go into," he admitted wryly. "The condensed version is that they found us, towed us back, and we've been stuck here ever since."
"How long?"
He looked at her for a moment, then reached up to brush her bangs out of her eyes. The gesture surprised her, as did the look in his eyes. "It took them a couple of days to get us back. Then you had your extended nap. It's been about five days."
Her eyes widened in shock. "You're kidding."
He shook his head and didn't say any more, but he didn't have to. The gentle touch of his hand against her cheek said more than words could have. He'd been worried. She tried to think of something to reassure him, but before she could do so he turned head away and coughed. He sounded awful. "You okay?" she asked, concern rising. He was sitting up, so she'd assumed he was fine.
"Apparently the cold and my lungs didn't get along very well," he admitted. "Salik says it's pneumonia. Getting better, though."
"If this is better, I don't want to know how it was before," she told him with a glare.
"How do you feel?" he asked, his hand still at her cheek. Lords, he must have been really worried. Lee wasn't the touchy-feely type any more than she was. No, they didn't withdraw from touching others, but neither did they seek it out. This reaction from him seemed more concerning than his cough or her stiffness.
"Sore," she told him. "Which makes sense if I've been stuck here for a few days. I'm more worried about that cough. Salik says you're okay?"
He gave a shrug. "Rest," he told her as he gestured to the pillow she was now facing. "And fluids," he added as he showed her the IV in his own hand, the one that had been touching her face. She tried not to notice how cold her cheek felt as he did so. "I'll be fine, Kara."
"So why do you look like you've been in a Viper crash?" she asked.
He gave another shrug. "Tired, I guess," he admitted. "And worried about you. I woke up about three days ago, but you've been a little slower."
"Three days?" She could hear the shock in her own voice.
He smiled at that. "Tell me about it."
"So you've been hanging around all this time for me?" She tried to muster up some of the sarcasm that she normally found so easily. It wasn't so simple with the look on Lee's face. It was hard to make a joke out of that type of friendship.
"You've never left me," he told her softly. "Just returning the favor."
The hand holding hers gave a gentle squeeze. "Thanks," she told him. What else could she say?
He watched her for a while, blue eyes locked onto hers. She had never realized just how blue they were, but then they rarely got this close. He was only about a foot away from her. Still, she didn't think eyes should be that bright in a room this dim.
"You're my best friend," he reminded her.
She nodded, but couldn't think of anything to add to that.
They sat in silence for a long while, just looking at one another. It wasn't entirely comfortable, nor entirely uncomfortable. It simply was."
Lee was the one to break the silence. "I need to let them know you're awake," he told her with a smile. "And they'll need to call my dad. He's been here most of the time, too. I'm not sure where he is now."
"My guess is CIC," she told him, relaxing into her own pillow.
"I'll go tell them you're up," Lee told her with a nod, moving to stand.
Later, she wouldn't be able to say why she didn't release his hand. Maybe it was the warmth there, or even the security. Hell, she would most likely roll it over in her mind for days afterwards, but would be no more sure than she was at that moment when he looked back at her in confusion. Still, her fingers didn't release his. She thought it was stupid, and childish, but Lee didn't argue. Instead, he sat back down and squeezed her hand gently in a silent communication, which they were getting very good at.
'You okay?" he asked.
She didn't know how to answer that. Physically, she felt fine. But the rest of her wasn't so sure she wanted to be left alone, even for him to go someplace as close as the medical station she knew was outside the room.
"Yeah," she told him, confusion clear in her voice and mind. "Just… stay. Lords, that sounds dumb, but…"
"I'll stay," he told her softly. She was relieved to be let off the hook. She didn't want to try to explain what she didn't understand herself. "Cassie's in here every few minutes it seems like; she'll check on you soon enough."
"Okay." She closed her eyes for just a moment, still exhausted despite the knowledge that she had spent the last few days asleep, then opened them again. "You look tired."
He gave a shrug, reaching back over to trace a finger across her forehead. "A little. Mostly glad you're okay."
"I'm tough," she informed him, but given her previous request for him to stay it seemed to be a statement that was absurd, even to her.
"I know," he assured her.
He kept one hand in hers, and left the other on her head, thumb playing with her hair, but he did put his head back down on the pillow. "Tired?"
"Yeah."
She closed her eyes again, grateful that he didn't seem to require more of her, and resting if not actually sleeping. She didn't feel any movement in Lee, but heard his faintly rattling breath become deeper and slower. She knew without looking that he was going back to sleep. That was best, she decided. She was having enough trouble sorting out her own emotions without adding his to the mix.
She almost wanted to do the same, but it seemed that since her mind had awakened it wouldn't let itself shut back down. She still had a slight chill in her from the memories, although Lee's presence did a great deal to alleviate that cold.
He had stayed. Even sick, as he clearly was, and definitely exhausted… Lee had stayed with her. He hadn't left her alone, for which she was grateful. She had the feeling that if she'd awoken in the room by herself, panic would have been her predominant reaction. As it was, she had her answers as well as the comfort of a friend.
She could feel his hand in hers, his other hand against her hair. It was as though he needed that same assurance of her presence that she did of his. Dumb, she decided. As stupid as the times she'd broken wireless silence on a long patrol just to hear his voice. As useless as the times she'd dropped back in a formation to be sure his Viper was still there at her wing. It was something she'd almost come to expect from herself, although she did her very best not to let it be noticed by the men in her squadron. The last thing she needed to do was let them see a weakness. She dealt with enough from them as it was. Hell, the rumors lately were enough to test not only her patience, but also her self-made promise to try to keep herself out of trouble. It wasn't that she particularly disliked the brig, but as Deputy CAG she felt that she needed to set some kind of example for the squad.
Some example, she thought now. Lying here, holding onto Lee desperately and letting him do the same to her. And it was desperation, she assured herself. It couldn't be anything more. It must not be anything more. Words Lee had spoken in anger came back to her – working her way through the Adama men – and she shuddered. She knew he hadn't meant it, and he'd apologized so many times, but her instinct told her that he wasn't the only one with that thought.
How in hell did she feel about Lee, anyway? He wasn't very much like Zak, which was her only base for comparison when it came to men, or love, or even affection. It wasn't just his appearance, but temperament and strength. Lee was like his father, both determined and exacting. She knew where she stood with him. He wasn't a joker, although he could certainly take one. He wasn't one to encourage goofing off, although he allowed it. No, he was more like his father than he was like Zak. Lee's eyes were his mother's, as well as his skin tone, but nearly everything else was a reflection of his father. She wondered if he had any idea at all how much he was like his dad. The thought amused her.
"I haven't seen that in a while."
The near-whisper brought her eyes open. Lee was still asleep, but his father was standing just behind him. She was acutely conscious of where Lee's hands were, but she thought withdrawal would be more obvious than staying where she was. "Sir," she said softly. She didn't want to wake Lee.
"Does he know you're awake?" the commander asked. She nodded slightly and he smiled. "Good. Do I need to let the doc know you're okay?"
She gave the same faint nod again, choosing it over speech. Adama smiled again, the vaguely familiar look in his eye something she couldn't recognize as he looked at his son, and then turned to leave.
Kara took a deep breath, releasing it on a sigh. So much alike, Kara thought. So much in common; and they didn't even know it.