Lee didn't have a clue how to react. A part of him was purely shocked. Kara had been one of most giving, loving women he'd ever slept with. He couldn't have ever imagined that her previous experiences hadn't been good. But what upset him more was that she didn't seem to think that anything was wrong with the way she'd been treated. She knew that she was a wonderful pilot, and she'd beat the crap out of anyone who challenged her skills there, and yet here she was, acting as though she deserved no more than to be attacked as a woman. It didn't make sense to him.
What made less sense, and infuriated him to no end, was that his own brother had been a part of that abuse. Kara wasn't holding it against him, but Lee had managed to learn how to have sex without hurting his partner; why hadn't his brother?
Thinking back, Lee remembered his first few awkward experiences with women. He'd been embarrassed and unsure, but he'd been aware enough to realize a cry of pain or even a simple withdrawal. No, it hadn't been easy. In fact, there was a fine line between letting himself go enough to finish what he'd started and making sure that he – who was larger, heavier, and stronger than his partner – didn't cause any damage. Yet easy or not, it had been his responsibility. He'd relied heavily on those first few relationships, however casual, and he hoped that the women had gotten something out of it. Mostly, what he'd learned was that casual sex was more trouble than it was worth.
"Well, if you're done, then I'll go," Kara was saying as she stood slowly. He shook himself slightly and stood as well, taking her hand when he did so.
"Kara, wait."
She shook her head. "I'm tired, Lee. This whole conversation… I'm sorry that I hurt your feelings. I didn't mean to bring up Zak, didn't even know I'd done it. I understand if you don't want to bother with…"
He stopped her the only way he knew how. Stepping forward, he held both of his arms as he kissed her. He was aware of the pressure he used – perhaps more aware than he'd ever been – and while the kiss was deep he made sure it wasn't hard. Kara returned the kiss with something just shy of desperation, to the point that he was reluctant to lift his head. "We're not finished here," he told her gently.
Kara stepped back from him, crossing her arms in front of her body in a gesture that was clearly protective. He hated that she was afraid of him now, even if that fear wasn't physical. What he said in the next moments would be important for more than just today. It would set the tone for their relationship, or lack thereof.
"Kara… you said that you loved Zak," he began.
She interrupted him. "I know that, and I'm sorry."
He shook his head, placing a hand on her cheek and his thumb over her lips. "You said it after I told you that…that I loved you."
Her eyes widened, but she didn't attempt to speak.
"I guess that's why I got so upset," he explained. "I didn't mean to say it, but it just… I didn't expect you to say it back, but I really didn't expect to be reminded of Zak just then. I know I overreacted. I'm sorry."
Kara stepped back and shook her head. "No you don't," she said as soon as she was out of his reach. "Don't you dare start feeling sorry for me. I didn't tell you my life story so that you'd give the poor, abused orphan a break. I don't need that."
Lee felt like he had whiplash. "What?"
"I know that look," she told him, her voice rising. "Poor Kara, she didn't have parents. Poor Kara, she didn't meet a lot of nice guys. Poor Kara, when she finally got something right she screwed it up."
"That's not what I was thinking," he corrected. "It's not even close."
She didn't say any more, but she stayed at a distance with her crossed arms as a physical barrier between them. "Fine, so tell me what you were thinking."
He took a breath before answering, trying to order the confused thoughts. "First of all, I was thinking that my brother was a jerk," he said softly. "We were raised the same way, and if I could figure out how to… without hurting anyone, then he should have been able to do the same. I'm also hating those other jerks, if that's important. You deserved better."
"I don't need your pity," she said with a sneer.
"You don't have it," he countered. "Kara, I'm as mad at you as I am at them. A guy can't know when he's hurting someone unless she says something. You can bet that if you'd hurt them they would have let you know."
"It's over, Lee," she said in a tired voice. "Just forget it."
"It's not over as long as it's between us," he corrected.
"There's no 'us'," she said. "There's you and me, and right now we don't belong in the same room. I can't stand how you're looking at me, and whether it's pity or anger or whatever, I don't want to deal with it. I have to work with you, and I can't do that when I'm uncomfortable with you. So I guess this has gone as far as it can. It's been… wonderful. Special. But it's over, Lee."
He was stunned for a moment, but then he realized she was opening the door, and she meant it. "Kara, wait," he said, stepping forward and grabbing her by the arm. "Don't leave. Not like this."
She tugged at her arm, but he only held her harder. He couldn't lose her; not this way. "You're hurting me," she whispered with another yank at her arm. It surprised him enough that he let go.
"Kara, please," he began, but he didn't know what else to say.
"I'm tired, Lee. It's been a long day, and a longer conversation. I think we both need some space."
"This isn't over," he told her, making every effort to keep his voice level. "I can't let it go at this."
"It's not your choice," she said softly, and then she stepped through the door and closed it behind her. He started at it for a full minute before he realized that she'd meant it, and that she was gone.
The problem with habit, Lee decided, was that one became dependent on it. Somehow, without his realizing it, Kara had wedged her way into his life, and she'd become a habit. He looked for her, he waited for the sound of her voice, and at night his dreams were… hell. He hadn't known it was possible to miss another person so much this side of death. He knew it now.
Within a week of "the discussion" – as Lee had begun to think of it – he was absolutely exhausted. He didn't sleep worth a damn without her in his arms, and he didn't have much desire to eat. He did so when he had to, when the dizziness began to affect his job, but rarely at any other time. He kept his work to his office, knowing that he was too damned distracted to be trusted in the cockpit. And he hoped, prayed, that time and space would give Kara what he had not: a reason to come back to him.
There was an old Caprican saying, that you never realized what you had until you'd lost it, and he considered it to be the current story of his life. Kara had been more a part of it than he had realized, and losing her had thrown a wrench into every activity he attempted, every single day.
He'd garnered more than one odd look in the past few days, and he knew that some of the sympathetic smiles and averted gazes had to do with Kara's return to the main Pilots' quarters. No one watched him when he came in late, passed by her bunk, and walked into his office. No one said a word when he snapped without reason or zoned out when they were talking to him. Yet instead of making the situation easier, it just made him more angry. He couldn't even do anything to hide his pain. It was an unacceptable situation at best, but he didn't know how to fix it.
So he ignored it. And half-way through the second week without her he really thought he was making progress. When he heard the knock on his office door – the one he now kept closed because it hurt too much to catch a glimpse of her, or hear her voice coming from quarters as she spoke to someone else – he only thought it might be her for a split second. He didn't even jump up to answer it, because he didn't expect it to be her. That didn't mean he didn't resent whoever it was because of who they were not.
"Come in," he called sharply. He had a desk full of crap that needed to be done, and working was one way to keep his mind off blond hair and green eyes. He reached for another stack, searched through for the document he needed, and then looked up to greet his visitor. It was the first true surprise he'd had since his discussion with Kara. "Commander," Lee said, coming to attention involuntarily.
"Sit down," his father told him. He closed the door behind him, then came to take the chair before Lee's desk.
Lee wasn't sure what the occasion was, but he did know that this was unusual. His father made a point to stay out of quarters, saying that his pilots needed a place that wasn't military. They didn't need their boss in their bedroom. Lee had agreed. For the eldest Adama to come down here, rather than just summoning Lee to his office, was damned unusual. Lee finished transferring information from the sheet he'd found to the one he was working on, then set the work aside to face his father. "What can I do for you?"
His father looked at him for a long moment, then sat back in the chair with a sigh. "You can tell me what's wrong."
Lee gave his best impression of confusion, but he didn't think he'd pulled it off. His father's next words confirmed that suspicion. "You aren't eating, you look like you've aged ten years, and half your deck crew is afraid of you. What the hell is going on?"
"Who's asking?" Lee inquired after a long moment. "My father or my commander."
William Adama looked at him for a long breath, and then two. "Your father," he finally said. "Your commander is pretty sure whatever this is, you'll get yourself together soon enough. Your father wants to know what's tearing you apart."
Lee shrugged one shoulder. "I'm fine," he said simply.
His father looked at him – into him – for a long while before he spoke. "Is it Kara?" he asked gently.
Lee averted his gaze. How in hell did the man do that? "What makes you think it's her?" Lee hedged.
His father's smile was sad. "Because she looks as bad as you do," he told Lee. "I've seen her come apart before, and I can see it starting now. The two of you used to be inseparable, but now you won't be seen in the same room at the same time." He watched his son for a moment, then played his trump card. "And because when I asked her how you were doing, she turned as white as a ghost and found someplace else to be. Kara's never backed down from anything in her life; something's screwing her up, and logic says that's you."
"I haven't done anything," Lee said honestly. "I asked her to stay; she chose not to. The door is open."
"So why isn't she using it?" his father asked. "Talk to me, son. You know I'm not an advocate of my officers… fraternizing. But the two of you were happy; anyone could see that. Now both of you are miserable. Logic says that something happened in between."
Lee looked at his father, gauging his need to know and his ability to understand. He finally decided that he couldn't lose more than he already had, and his father was more often than not a good sounding board. "I told her I loved her," he said quietly.
"Why do I think that's not the whole story?" Adama asked.
Lee rubbed his face with his hands. He needed sleep; he needed a shave. Shit, he needed Kara. "She said… well, it was a misunderstanding," Lee explained. "But in clearing the air, some things were said that… she doesn't think I can forgive. She didn't give me the chance to, and knowing what I do about her past, I can't blame her for doubting." He looked at the wall behind his father, then at the work on his desk. Finally, he met his father's eyes. "I thought if I let her go, she'd come back," he said softly. "I think I might have been wrong."
"Have you asked her to come back?" Adama said.
"Not since…" Lee cleared his throat. "I wanted to give her space, if that's what she needed. Maybe I gave her too much. But I can't force her to feel something… I can't force her to do anything, and knowing what I do, I'd never try."
"What is it you know?" William asked.
"Not all of it's my story to tell," Lee told him. "But part of it… Zak wasn't… he didn't handle Kara the way I would have. Maybe it's personal judgement, but it still made me angry. She doesn't feel I have that right."
"Was what he did against you, or against Kara?"
"Kara," Lee admitted.
"Then she's probably right," William said gently. "In any case, Zak is gone, so being angry with what he did when he was alive serves no purpose."
"I know that," Lee muttered. "But I can't help what I feel. Dad, he hurt her in a way that… affects her now. It affected us. And he wasn't the only one. She says I'm pitying her, but that isn't it. I just hate that it happened, and I wish like hell I could change it because she deserves so much better. And Dad, she doesn't even believe that. She thinks she deserves…" He shook his head in frustration; this wasn't a conversation he could have comfortably with his father.
The older man was quiet for a long time, just watching Lee as though waiting for… something. Lee didn't know what it was. "Son, each and every one of us has a past. We come to one another with experiences that make us who we are."
"I know that," Lee interrupted, but his father raised a hand.
"Let me finish," he requested. "Those pasts aren't always what we'd like them to be. We make mistakes, and we hurt one another. I don't think anyone becomes an adult without doing things that we regret. I'm sure you've done things that you'd rather others didn't know about. Lords know I have, and I'm sure Kara has as well. But those things, the bad as well as the good, form us. They make us who we are. Whatever Zak did – or didn't do – it was a part of forming Kara, and she's the woman you fell in love with. Without that background she might have been different, and she might not have been the woman that you love."
"I'm not holding it against her, and I don't pity her for it," Lee said. "But I can't just feel… nothing. What happened was unfair, and wrong, and I wish it hadn't happened. I'm sorry if that's not my right, but even if it meant that I'd never met her, I'd rather it hadn't happened. She deserved so much better, Dad. And she doesn't even know it was wrong."
"Then why is your place to tell her?" Adama asked. "Lee, all you have to do is accept her; love her. The rest is irrelevant."
"It doesn't matter," Lee told his father softly. "She left. I told her that I love her, and she left."
"Tell her again."
Lee looked up in surprise. Telling her the first time had been an accident, and the second had frankly hurt because she hadn't even remotely returned the feelings. Saying it again seemed to be counterproductive, and beyond that it would hurt even more, possibly more than he could stand. He might not have a lot of pride where Kara was concerned, but he did have some. "Until what?" he asked. "Until she punches me? Until she has me arrested for harassment? Until she finally laughs in my face. No thanks; I've had enough humiliation for this lifetime."
"Kara wouldn't humiliate you," his father corrected gently. "She cares too much about you. I don't know if she loves you… and I'm not sure she knows. Kara hasn't had a lot of love in her life; she's not sure what to do with it. You know, after Zak died, it didn't occur to her to come to us for comfort. We were grieving the same way, for the same man, and it didn't cross her mind that we might be able to share something with her. She's been on her own for so long that she forgets there's another way."
"It doesn't matter," Lee finally said. "If I come into a room, she walks out. If she can't walk out, she turns her back. Dad, I can't reach her. She doesn't want me to."
Adama gave a gentle, sad smile. "It isn't what she wants," he said carefully. "It's what she knows. She's just protecting herself, Lee. It's the same thing you're doing, and for the same reason. Strong feelings are… frightening."
"Tell me about it," Lee muttered.
"Someone has to be the strong one," William continued. "This time, I don't think it's going to be Kara. She has too much that she feels is already lost. She won't try to save what's already gone. But if you can show her that she hasn't lost you – that the love is still there despite what was said, or not said, or should have been said – then maybe she'll let you in. There aren't any guarantees, but I think it's worth trying. The question you have to ask yourself is whether or not you think she's worth it."
Lee thought about that for a moment, rubbing his hands over his stubbled face again, then through his hair. "She's worth everything," he finally said. Then, with more honesty than he thought he could have with his father, he admitted, "I can't sleep without her."
"Then we need to fix this," Adama said simply. "I want you in my room this evening at eighteen-hundred. You haven't been eating, and you need to do it. I'll make arrangements for something edible, and you'll swallow every bite, even if I have to make it an order. Are we clear?"
Lee wasn't sure what it had to do with Kara, but he nodded. "Clear," he confirmed. "Eighteen-hundred."
"Good," his father said as he stood. "And don't keep an old man waiting."
"Yes, Sir," Lee said automatically.
His father smiled, then. "You'll get through this, Lee," he promised. "We'll see to it."
As he watched his father leave, Lee caught a glimpse of Kara's back though the hatchway, but she didn't turn. He didn't try to make her. He didn't know where to start. One step at a time, he decided, and the first one had already been ordered. Dinner with his father at eighteen-hundred; maybe his father would have some ideas on how to win a skittish woman's heart.