Conversation and Sacrifice
Sometimes, an easier life is as simple as listening to a friend. That's what I did. I listened to Kylen, and life got a whole lot easier… or more complicated. I suppose it depends on how you look at things. I consider it simpler. Ground rules make everything simpler.
It started with Lee and I, and dinner, and one more subtle hint that he might want more than a friend. Given my usual resources, I would have ignored it, but Kylen's advice was stuck in the back of my head. Talk to him. It sounded so simple, but it seemed impossible.
Dinner had been nice – really nice – and I'll admit that I was more relaxed than usual. One thing I can say for Raptor flight is that it doesn't sap you the way a Viper does. It isn't easy by any stretch of the imagination, but neither does it leave you feeling like a limp noodle after eight hours in the pilot's seat. So I was feeling better than normal, and Lee and I had the dining hall pretty much to ourselves, and we'd had the chance to just catch up and reminisce, and otherwise say a whole lot that meant very little. As a relatively undemanding pastime, it was really… nice.
I was just laughing at something he'd said, something silly and useless, when he tossed a napkin on his plate and smiled. "This place is going to be a mess in a few minutes," he said with a glance at the clock. "If you want to continue this we can go back to my room."
I just sit there, staring. It has to be one of the oldest, dumbest, lamest lines in the book. I can barely believe that Lee tossed it out, until I look at those blue eyes and realize that it wasn't a line. Lee doesn't dance around subjects, not usually. He means what he says, even though he doesn't always say what he means. "If you want," I finally answer, but the time-lag hasn't gone unnoticed.
He sighs deeply and sits back in his chair to look at me. "You don't have to," he reminds me.
"I like talking to you," I tell him honestly. "And it's been a nice night."
"It has."
"So maybe it's worth the extra ribbing to finish the conversation."
He looks at me for a moment longer, then looks down. "They giving you a hard time?" he asks.
"They know better." He's asking about the squad. Hell, he doesn't even have to tell me who he's talking about. It's the truth. When I say that I hit, I mean that I hit hard.
His head cocks sideways at that, just watching, and then he nods as though he's decided something. Maybe he has. He stands up first, leading the way to the trash receptacles and recycling units. We dispose of our trays and leave the hall without a word. But it isn't our usual companionable silence. It's tense… nervous. I don't like it, or trust it. The problem is, I can't do anything about it. So I just follow like a daggit pup, and when we make it to quarters there's thankfully no one around that's awake to give me a hard time or encourage the physical outlet I'd just love to have as a tension breaker. I really, really want to hit something. Not Lee; that's the odd part. Just… something.
Once we're in his room he gestures to the chair before taking a seat on his cot. "What gives?"
Gee, that's blunt. A guy could let me catch my breath. But Lee never has danced around anything, and that's why I'm here. He's just given me the perfect opening to tell him the truth and clear this whole limbo thing up. It's a chance to get all the subtle hints and gentle ignorance out in the open and just deal with it. It should be so easy; this is Lee, after all. Only it's not easy. I like him, and I care about him, and that makes it damned near impossible. "Why do I get the feeling that our discussion of Academy antics is over?" I ask to buy some time.
"Kara, I'm sick of this," he says softly. "I don't know what to say around you anymore. Part of the time things are like they always have been, and the rest of the time you're backing away. What in hell am I doing wrong?"
Well, that puts it right out there now, doesn't it. "I guess… I don't know what you expect," I finally tell him as the long silence following his words grows to deafening proportions. "Everything used to be so easy. We were friends, and that was all either of us wanted. Now… I don't know what you want. Sometimes I think you want more than… well, more anyway. I don't know what to do with that. What do you want?"
Blue eyes widen in surprise, and I realize that he hadn't expected an answer. He probably thought I'd run again, or deny it. I wish I could, but Kylen was right. This isn't going to go away by itself. I watch as he stands up, walks to the far wall of the office, turns to walk back, and then turns again to repeat the action. Pacing in a seven-foot room is amusing to watch, but not terribly practical. I sit there, tucking my hands under my legs to keep them from fidgeting. I hate being nervous, but I hate not knowing even more. He finally stops, sits back down, and faces me for a minute. At least he's looking me in the eye now, and that helps. "That's a loaded question, Kara," he points out. "Are you sure you want the answer?"
Hell no. "I'm sure that I'm sick of not knowing, or being sure, or whatever. I'd rather know the truth."
He watches me a moment, and this time I look away. "I wouldn't mind being closer," he finally says. "But you know I'd never do anything you weren't ready for. I feel like you expect me to… rape you in a hallway or something."
That brings my eyes back up to his. "I never said I didn't trust you," I tell him quickly.
"You didn't have to."
Shit, this really isn't going well. "Lee… I guess I'm just afraid that you want things to change, and that if they don't you won't be there anymore. And no," I tell him before he can cut in with a denial or explanation, "I don't think you'd stop being my friend just because I won't sleep with you. I know you better than that. I just don't want things so… strained between us that we can't talk, or be alone together, or ask for a hug when we need it. I don't want to lose what we have just because I don't want to go anywhere else."
And that shuts him up. For the first time in more years than I can remember, I have no clue what he's thinking as he looks at me. "I've told you that we'll always be friends," he says, but his voice is monotone. "Why can't you trust that?"
This time it's me who can't stay still. "Because it isn't true," I tell him in frustration, up on my feet and looking down at him before I walk past and focus my attention on the wall. "Every guy I've ever known has had an ego, and when you live around guys you know a hell of a lot. Even the sweet ones don't do well with rejection, and if that's a stereotype than fine, because it's true and I know it applies to you, too. And even if you get used to my saying 'no', you aren't going to stop at that. You might not press me, but you'll look for it… somewhere else. And if you find it, then…"
"Then things change," he says softly.
I stare at the comfort of gray metal and do my best to get rid of the knot in my throat. Gray really is a sick color. "You deserve to be happy," I tell him, "but that doesn't mean I'm looking forward to you going to someone else first when you've had a shitty day, or that I'd like to see you dating someone instead of hanging with me in the gym. I'm sorry. I know it's awful, and selfish. I know it, but…"
"But it's how you feel," he concludes.
I don't turn around; I can't. If I look at him now I'll lose it, and as close as we are I don't want him to see that. I guess I don't want him to see just how much this hurts. No one ever said that honesty was easy. "I'm sorry," I tell him again, and it sounds so pathetic.
Hands on my shoulders surprise me, because I'm so caught up in the intricacies of welded gray metal that I didn't hear him stand. "I'm not going to go anywhere," he tells me, his head resting on one of my shoulders and his cheek next to mine as he moves his hands down to my waist. "Kara, did it ever occur to you that this is why I keep… bringing it up? I don't want to be with anyone else. I like being around someone who knows how screwed up I am and likes me anyway, and who can understand when I'm more worried about the balance of my Viper than what's for dinner. I need to be around someone who knows how hard what I do is, and who helps rather than complaining about how much time it takes. And maybe I need someone… who reminds me that the world wasn't always a mess, and that once upon a time everything was okay. Do you really think I'd give that up just to get another woman into bed?"
I shake my head, and I really wish he'd let go… and not. "It's selfish," I tell him again. "I don't… but I'm not ready for you to…" Hell, I can't even complete a coherent sentence.
"Maybe it would be selfish if I was interested in someone else," he says thoughtfully. "But even so, you can't change how you feel. Not too long ago the world flew apart, and I know that everyone doesn't get over that at the same rate. We don't really get over it at all, but eventually – if we're lucky – we learn to move past it. I know for the first months I was… shut down. I didn't think about anything but flying, reporting, and staying sane in the process. It's just really been the last few months where I've felt… human. Maybe you're just not there yet."
"I may not get there," I tell him. I don't want to hurt him, but I need to be honest. "Lee, I haven't felt anything like that since Zak. I haven't wanted to."
"That's fair," he says, and it really surprises me. I expected at least a flinch at his brother's name, but it's not there. I guess we all come to peace with things eventually. "But what we feel can change. If you change your mind, let me know. And if I change mine, then I'll do the same. I'm not going to tell you that I'll wait forever and die old and alone, but right now I don't have any interest in anyone else. Believe me, I've looked around… and maybe I want to hold out for the best."
I nod and attempt to smile at the joke, but I feel worse instead of better. It's not fair to him; I know that, but I can't change how I feel. It would be easier if he was angry. A good yelling at might help me get over the nagging feeling of dishonesty that lingers as he backs up slightly and moves his hands back up to my shoulders. The really screwed up part is that I miss having him close. What kind of confused is that? I take all this time and trouble to tell him to back off – risk a perfectly good friendship in the process – and I don't even really know what I feel. Hell, the man is better off without me; I wish he'd see that.
"So," he says with a gentle squeeze, "we were talking about Carson at the Academy. Do you really think that he and Beck were a couple?"
He's backed away, moved to his bed, and is now sitting with his back against the wall and his legs crossed in front of him on the cot. "I know they were," I tell him. "I caught Becky and him in the… um…" I trail off remembering that particular experience, and not entirely sure I want to go into it given the discussion we've just had. But he's giving me an out – a return to our days of camaraderie and useless antics. I won't throw that back in his face.
"What? Where?"
"The shower room," I tell him with my cheeks heating at the memory. I don't embarrass easily, and I didn't even then, but walking in to find a friend and her boyfriend without a stitch of clothing and actively engaged in… procreation… had been more than I was prepared for. "The position they were in didn't leave a lot of doubt as to what was happening. Or a lot of anatomy to the imagination, now that I remember it."
Lee laughed at that, resting back against the wall. I was still standing there, although I was feeling dumber by the minute. Lee seemed to have already forgotten the serious discussion; I wished I could. "Who would have thought?" he said, and when I finally got the nerve to turn around he was smiling as though the discussion had never taken place. "You know, Beck swore up, down, and sideways that she'd never get within twenty yards of a pilot."
"Well, life is short," I joked as I took my seat.
"Hers was," he said, and his smile was gone. Mine followed. Beck had been on the Atlantia during the initial attacks, and she hadn't been among the few pilots who had survived.
"She went out doing what she loved," I remind him. "Carson, too." He had been on the Pegasus.
"There's no one left," he says, and gives me a half-hearted smile. "Sorry, this discussion started out fun and then it went morbid."
"Life is like that," I say with a wink, making a joke where there isn't one because it's true, but also because it nudges Lee's smile towards something real. He's got a nice smile – full of fun and mischief when he thinks no one is watching. He could sure get into a load of crap a while back when given the chance. I think most of his misadventures were spent trying to get Zak out of one situation or another, but he had an adventurous streak once upon a time. I haven't seen it in a lot of years, though. Somewhere in all the classes and responsibilities, Lee got more serious and less fun. After I moved in with Zak, what little goofing off he had done seemed to grind to a halt in favor of studying. He was still there for us, and we would hang out a lot, but Lee just seemed to focus in on things more strongly once I was out of his hair. I really wish I could remember more of it, but I was young and in love and really not paying attention. I could have been a better friend then; I hope that I'm a better friend now.
Things seemed a little better after that. Well, on the surface they did anyway. I still felt more than a little guilty because Lee did want more, and that was made worse by his constantly accommodating attitude. There were times in that week when I just wanted him to get mad, to half off and hit me, or to scream and yell and throw things. I wasn't being fair to him, and I knew that. It seemed like a bad joke that he wasn't willing to acknowledge it. Looking back, I'm not sure if I wanted him to be angry for his benefit or for mine. It's a lot easier to forgive yourself when someone else hasn't.
So life was still in an awkward limbo for about a week. The only thing I really was looking forward to was that Lee had scheduled the two of us on a patrol together. It was a rare treat, because he normally went out with rookies and had me do the same. It was the only way to keep a veteran pilot in the air at least most of the time. But we were passing buy an area that was dense with asteroids, and Lee didn't want to risk one of the kids going into a panic because they didn't know how to dodge or negotiate two thrusters at once. So he scheduled his two best pilots – he and I – to the task of checking the quadrant. It was actually a relief to know there was something more exciting coming up than flying into the dark and then back again. It was also nice to know I was going to be flying with a pro, if for no other reason than it gave me someone to talk to. The rooks were too damned busy to say a word, even if they hadn't been scared to death of me.
When the day of the flight arrived, I was psyched. It was exactly what I wanted to do, and truth be told it was with exactly the person I wanted to spend time with. Lee and I still had this tension between us, and a little old-fashioned work on familiar terms seemed like the easiest way to get past it and back on the track of being friends. For Lee to be late to a pre-flight was unheard of, but for him to be late for this one was unthinkable. So when he was fifteen minutes late, I headed to quarters to razz him about not being able to read a clock. What I found there surprised even me.
First I need to say this – Lee handles stress at least as well as anyone I've ever known. He's strong, capable, and more than efficient. But the bottom line is that everyone has a limit, and apparently the late nights and early mornings full of work, more work, and yet more work had finally caught up with him. He was upright, but that was about all. I knew from the lights being out in his room that something was off, and when the light from quarters spilling through the doorway triggered a moan, I knew we were in trouble. Lee missed work only when he was physically too ill to drag himself there, and right now that's exactly what he was.
I closed the door quickly, cutting out the light from quarters, and then went to his side. He was sitting on the floor with his back to the cot, as though he'd gotten up and couldn't get back. I couldn't see his face just then in the near absence of light, but I'd seen enough earlier when I'd opened the door. His skin was white, his expression pained, and it looked like he'd gotten sick more than once. "Let me call Life Station?" I asked softly. He jumped at even those quiet words; sound split his head as badly as light when he was like this.
"No," he said simply. "It'll pass. Take Higgens on the patrol."
I wasn't sure which worried me more; that he wasn't willing to take care of himself, or that he felt crappy enough to miss a flight we'd both been looking forward to. I knew that what felt worse than anything was knowing that he thought I'd be willing to leave him there that way. I never had before; I didn't intend to now.
But he was in no mood to argue. I reached up and grabbed the sheet from his bed, using it to clean up the worst of the mess he'd made. He jerked back when I wiped him off with it as well – at least as well as I could in the dark – but it had to be done. If he wouldn't let me call the docs, he was going to be stuck with me. At least I knew what he was like during one of these spells.
The first time I'd seen him deal with one had been about three months after he'd moved in with me at the Academy. I woke up one morning, pulled the curtain back to check the weather for my morning run, and the groan behind me had been horrible. Lee had been almost gray, his skin glistening with sweat, and his body shaking as he had tried to squeeze his eyelids just a little tighter together. "Lee?" I asked him.
He had flinched at his name and his body had trembled visibly, almost as though he was freezing. The room was a little warm if anything, so I knew that wasn't it. I had walked over to check for a temperature when he got sick that first time. It surprised the hell out of me, but I've always been quick on the uptake. He had his head hanging over the side of the bed, so I grabbed a towel that was thrown over the couch and managed to keep most of it in a contained location. Then I went to grab a bowel from our limited kitchen supplies so that I'd be ready if it happened again. Finally, I wet a washcloth to clean his face up. The cold water really set him off, and he acted like I'd taken a shovel to his head or something. I guess it was then that I recognized the headache. I'd heard about them – everyone had – but I hadn't seen one before then. Frankly I'd thought it was a crock that weak women came up with to get out of doing something and that nothing could hurt that much. I learned differently that morning.
If there's a good side to Lee's headaches, it's that they pass quickly. Unfortunately, what they lack in duration they make up for in intensity. That first morning, I had been afraid to leave him so I called the infirmary for help. At the time, all I could think of was that he was going to die and the Old Man wouldn't want anything to do with me. Lee and I were still on shaky terms at that point, and were until a couple of months after this morning. The tech came from the infirmary and gave him a shot of something as though she did this every day. She may as well have. It knocked him out, but it didn't keep him from getting sick. I wound up sitting there with him for all of that day and most of the night before his color returned to normal and he stopped guarding himself as though everything hurt. Later, I would realize that I'd done exactly the wrong thing several times over. Calling for help without asking, cold water, touching him at all… none of those things had endeared me to him. But I think the worst part was that I'd seen him at his lowest, and he couldn't deal with that. As I've said before, guys have a lot of pride, and I'd stepped all over his.
We didn't talk about that until about three months later, after his second one. That time I'd pretty much stayed close, but stayed out of it. It had been an evening rather than a morning, and while I cleaned up the mess I didn't mess with him. I kept the lights off, didn't make a sound, and as the morning sun came up I taped a blanket over our window to keep the light out. It passed just as quickly without the shot, and I realized then why he didn't want it. He didn't think it did enough for him to justify the embarrassment of having a tech in his room when he was so sick. But this time when he got better, I didn't let him drop it. I cornered him point blank and asked him what I needed to know about the headaches, what I needed to do when he had one, and why in hell he was having them.
His answers were reluctant at best, but I got them. And even though it was over six months before he had the next one, I remembered what to do and what not to do. I helped as much as I could by keeping sensation to a minimum and cleaning up the inevitable mess. I also learned to keep a ginger-based tea on hand which he could sometimes get down with a straw. It settled his stomach a little, and if I could get it into him between the time that the pain started and the vomiting started, then we didn't have a mess to deal with afterwards. In time, he came to realize that I didn't hold the headaches against him. They weren't his fault, there was nothing he could do about them, and that was all there was to it. We were good enough friends by that point that he trusted me with it. For him, it was a big step.
So this morning, I knew what I was dealing with. He didn't want a doc, and I could respect that for the moment. It was too late to stop him from getting sick, so this time we would just have to ride it out. It wouldn't seem odd to me until later that I never considered leaving him. I'd been looking forward to that frakking patrol for a week, and without a thought I tucked a pillow under his head and slipped out to call CIC and asked them to task Higgens and Taylor with it so that I could stay with Lee. I went through the Old Man because I didn't want it spread around that Lee was sick. He'd made it this far without anyone finding out about the headaches, and there didn't seem to be a reason to spread it around. After the roster was settled, I slipped back into his room with clean sheets and clean clothes, and settled in next to him to wait. I wasn't sure when it had started, so I didn't know how long it would be.
It turned out to be a long one, at least relatively speaking. It almost went on long enough that I called Life Station regardless, but just as I was making the decision to do it he relaxed a little and was able to get back up into bed and sleep the rest of it off. That was always my cue – the moment when he uncurled his body and let out the breath that he invariably held through the pain. I was finally able to check my watch for the time, and realized that we'd missed a full day, and then some. It was a little after noon. It explained why I was half-starved. When I got up and brought the light level up in the room, he didn't even flinch. He was well and truly out, and probably would be for ten or twelve hours. The headaches were exhausting. I cleaned up the room a little better, took out the soiled sheets, and made sure the blanket over him was clean as I slipped out to get some food. There were a dozen messages on my bed from the Old Man, asking me to call when I could. I got on the comm, let him know Lee was okay, and drug myself down to the mess hall for lunch. A few people gave me curious looks, but no one was stupid enough to ask why I'd spent a day and a half in the CAG's room.
Now I've eaten, showered, and changed clothes. I've been out of his room for almost an hour, and that's about my limit when he's been this sick. I grab a couple of blankets and slip back in, careful to keep the light to a minimum just in case. But he's still out, in the same position he was in when I left him. I arrange my blankets on the floor and grab one of his pillows, and I settle in for some much needed rest. Not surprisingly, I'm down for the count, too. As I wake, I open my eyes and find myself looking into his from across the room. It doesn't surprise me. "Hey," I say quietly.
"Hey." His voice is soft, and hoarse from both illness and disuse. "You got the fallout, huh?"
"How do you feel?" I ask, sidestepping the question as well as possible.
"How do you think?"
I smile at that. "Like crap?"
"Got it," he mumbles. "How long this time?"
I give him a shrug. "I caught about eighteen hours of it, but you were quite a ways in when I showed up. I really wish you'd call when those damned things hit."
"I don't get time," he mutters. "One minute I'm fine, the next I see stars, and then I'm on the floor. After that, doing anything isn't an option."
I've sat up now, brushing hair back from my face with my fingers and moving over closer to him. "Life really isn't fair," I tell him. We both already know that. I reach forward and brush his hair back from his face. He's still a little pale, but that's probably lack of food more than anything. "You think you can eat?" I ask. Sometimes it takes him a while.
"I can try," he admits, and gingerly attempts to sit up. I'm there, holding one arm and watching intently. I hate what these things do to him. Then he turns his head and faces me. "How was the patrol?" he asks. "Damn, I'm sorry I missed that."
The moment of truth; he's going to kill me. "You'll have to ask Higgens," I tell him. "I didn't go."
He watches me for a moment, a frown coming to his features. I realize that I'm holding my breath against the reaction, but I can't help it. I defied an order and changed his roster, sending two pilots that may not have been qualified to do my job. I deserve a good yelling-at.
Surprisingly, he reaches over and places a hand on my neck, pulling me closer to kiss my cheek. "Thanks for staying," he says simply.
I give him a shrug. "That's what friends do."
All he does is nod, but I know we've reached an agreement of sorts and things will be okay. "They do," he finally says.
Then I smile, give a kiss on the cheek to match the one he's given me, and leave him to get himself dressed. I've got at least a dozen things that I should have already done, and I need to get started if it's going to happen. Lee understands, and he won't hold it against me. Friends are like that.
And he's my best friend.