Decisions
I had to think about what Lee had said. Truthfully, I had a damned long time to think. It was more than coincidence that the next week had us on not only opposite shifts, but completely opposite schedules. The two of us were never in the same place at the same time, whether to eat or work or sleep. He was never in his room, no one could ever track him down when I had the time to talk to him, and with each passing day I got more and more angry. Yes, I knew that he was upset – more than upset – but avoiding one another wasn't going to change anything. I was reminded of the dark time when Kylen was steering clear of the Old Man, and I had more sympathy for him than I ever had before. The only good thing was that I was reasonably sure the CAG couldn't transfer off the only military ship in the fleet. If he could have, I do believe he would have done it.
I even cornered the Old Man about the situation, and for the first time in memory he just gave me a sad look and said that this was between Lee and I, and that he was very sorry. That was it; he was sorry. He didn't offer to help, or mediate, or even explain. I suppose it shouldn't have surprised me that he was siding with his son, but it did. William Adama had always been in my corner, and seeing the quiet disappointment in his expression when he flatly refused to even try to get us in the same place at the same time was downright disheartening.
It took me over a week to finally get to frustration threshold. Then it took another few days before we had the manning to allow me any opportunity to switch shifts with anyone. I got it done – with a promise to protect the pilot from bodily injury at the cost of my own life if necessary – and finally, finally found myself off duty while Lee was supposed to be off as well. I say supposed to be because finding him wasn't easy. In fact, it required calling in a couple of favors and making a few threats as well. But I managed it. Somehow, I managed it.
When I tracked him down – nearly two weeks after the big blow-up – he was on the flight deck beneath a Viper, checking on one system or another that he didn't think Tyrol's crew had right. Just the fact that the Chief was letting him said a lot about what type of mood Lee had been in; no one was crossing him, even the Lord of the Deck.
I watched him for a while, working on the ship and completely unaware that I was there. Lords, I'd missed him. I had known I missed him, but until then – until I was looking at him – I didn't realize just how much. It's weird the things you pick up when you've been away from someone for a while. He hadn't shaved, and his hair needed a trim, and both of those things were very odd. He was intent on what he was doing, focused, and that was pure Lee. It took a lot to remind myself why I didn't really believe in happily ever after. It took a lot to convince myself that it wasn't worth just doing whatever the hell he wanted if it meant things could be right again. But having me give in to his terms was no better than him giving in to mine, so this was going to have to be sorted out. Some kind of decision had to be reached, and I just hoped it was one I could live with.
"We need to talk." Lords, who would have ever thought I would use those four words?
His hands stilled, but they didn't lower from the underbelly of the Viper. "No, we don't," he said simply.
Damn. He never lets anything be easy. "Lee, we can do it in private or right here, but we're going to talk. If I have to fight you to earn the privilege of a few minutes, then I can do that too. And if you think I won't follow you like a shadow until it happens, then think again. I'm tired of this; we need to settle it."
"It's settled," he told me.
"This isn't settled, it's tabled," I corrected. "Frak, Lee, you can't tell me that you're happy this way!"
His hands, which had gone back to their repairs, stilled once more. "It doesn't matter. I'd rather be unhappy than totally miserable."
"Why in hell do you have to be either?" I ask in frustration.
"Because I'm sick of doing things half-way. I thought I could, but I was wrong."
At the moment, his feelings weren't foremost in my mind. "So you get everything or I get nothing?" I ask in disgust. "How the frak is that fair?"
"Life isn't fair," Lee reminds me. "It never has been."
And as much as I hate it, I know he's right. "I won't leave it this way," I tell him. "It'll be here or someplace private, and it'll be now or later, but one way or another we have to sort this out to something we can both live with. I'll tell you straight up that this won't work for me, and you know damned well that I'm tenacious enough to make your life a living hell until you give in."
Finally, he slid from beneath the Viper, put his tools back in the box next to him, and looked up to face me. And holy crap, he looked worse than awful. The shadows under his eyes were as bad as mine, and the expression there was beyond bleak and into dead. He meant it, I realized. He really and truly meant it. Suddenly, his way didn't seem so bad after all. I knew for sure that this way wasn't going to work. But if you're in for one cubit, you're in for a thousand, so I didn't back down. "Your room, or do you have someplace else in mind?" I ask.
He looks at me for a long moment, and I can see that he really doesn't want to be alone with me. It more than hurts; it puts a hole in me. But I can't back down now. As he stands, looking very much like an older version of his father, I almost wish I hadn't done this. Almost. But I was absolutely truthful when I told him that I can't live this way. He's been a part of my life for too long, and I'm not willing to give that up. Further, it's destroying our working relationship, and that's another thing we can't afford. "My room," he says softly.
"Let's go."
He takes a deep breath and lets it out as a sigh. "Kara I… let me get a shower first," he requests. "I'll be there in half an hour. I promise." I must have looked doubtful – and with good reason given his avoidance and what I'd gone through to get around it – because he added, "My word is still good for something, isn't it?"
It takes me a minute, but I give in. "Your room, half an hour," I agree.
He doesn't even nod, but turns to pick up his tools and walks off without even looking back. Lords, this is going to be a lot worse than I thought. I make the walk to his quarters in a daze. No matter what had happened between us, I never really thought that Lee and I couldn't be friends. We were just a given, like peanut butter and jelly. We could manage independently, but we just worked so much better together. No, I don't need Lee. I've spent years with no more than an occasional post-card and survived just fine… but that was before the war, and before we started working together under a single command that literally left us no place to escape to. We have to solve this, even if it's only to make working together a possibility. Lords, I hope we have more than that, but I saw his face and I'm just not sure.
His room is… a revelation. If I thought his face looked bad, it's nothing compared to his room. I'm used to Mr. Neat, with his quarter-bouncing bed and neat stacks of reports. What I find is a knot of tangled covers, a desk scattered with just about everything all mixed together – even I can't make heads or tails out of it – and in the corner a couple of towels that…
Lee has either had another headache, or he's been sick for another reason. I think that hurts the worst of all, that he would be sick and not even tell me. When had it all gotten so messed up? And in the back of my mind – always – is the curiosity as to whether things would be different if I had just listened and turned my back when he asked and left that frakking gym instead of thinking I knew what was best. At the moment, I don't know a damned thing about him, and I realize that maybe I didn't then either.
Nervous energy keeps me from sitting, so I busy myself with some much-needed housekeeping. First to go is the towels, which I put in a laundry bag and make sure is labeled before dropping them in the community hamper with the pieces of uniforms that had been scattered through the room. Each one had been sweat through at least once, telling me that he'd been working way too much and not bothering to clean up in the ready room. Probably, he was afraid that he'd run into me, heavens forbid.
On the way back to his room I grab some fresh towels, and set them on a chair as I tackle the bed. I wind up changing that too, and when I finish it isn't as neat as he would do but it might pass. My watch says there's another ten minutes, so I toss the towels to the foot of the bed and settle in at his desk to start trying to sort out this week's reports from last, and next week's requisitions from the week before. Lords, what a mess! Even I can keep paperwork better than this. I barely recognize the uneven scrawl which he's used to put rosters together, and this from the guy with the neatest handwriting in the class. "If you can't read it, what's the point in doing it?" he had asked me at the Academy. My answers had been colorful and often profane, but they had come with the knowledge that Lee would always be Lee. Now, I didn't know who he was.
"Make yourself at home," he says as he walks into the room and closes the hatch behind him. The sarcasm is clear, but I'm still a little too shaken to counter it.
"Is this Cummings or Donnings?" I ask, pointing to a particularly scribbly name on the roster. He looks over my shoulder before answering.
"Doesn't matter. Either one can do it."
I want to roll my eyes. I can understand him being upset, but this is ridiculous. I neatly stack the reports I've sorted out as upcoming and stick them at the right corner of his desk, just as he would if he were still Lee. Then I start looking for this week's paperwork. It's a pick and piece procedure, and it occupies my mind. Yes, I'm avoiding him, but I just don't know what to say. I feel like getting his desk in order will get him back for me, and it's so much easier than facing him. And mixed up in all of it – the fear and the uncertainty – there's an anger growing that he hadn't just come to me, and that his father hadn't said a word. Did the Old Man even know what a mess his oldest boy was in? And guilt… there's a lot of that, too. Because – as self-centered as it is – I believe that I have caused at least part of this, and I hate it. I feel like I've killed my best friend.
"If you're just going to wrestle with paperwork, I'll get back down to the deck," he says, and I could swear I hear relief in his voice.
"Not a chance," I say as I finally set the papers down and turn on the chair to face him. He's clean, and so is his uniform, but he hasn't tackled shaving just yet. The dark shadow makes him look… different. Between that and the hair curling at his neck, he barely looks like the man I've come to know.
And suddenly it hits me: He isn't the man I know. Not anymore. And with that acknowledgment comes the question of what the hell I'm doing in his office, cleaning his room, sorting through his work. This isn't the friend I've had for years; he doesn't want to be. And yet I'm here, and I have to try. I have to do something. "Please, sit," I say, and my voice sounds unsteady. I'm scared, and just realizing it. I can't lose him. I can't, but I think I already have.
To my surprise, he does. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he faces me with his elbows on his knees and his expression haggard before turning his gaze to the floor. He just looks so frakking tired. I reach out before I realize I'm doing it, focused on the hair that's almost in his eyes. I don't think I've ever seen it so long. A long while before I touch him, he pulls back out of my reach. I don't know why it startles me. "What do you want?" he asks, and his voice sounds as bad as mine.
"I want things right again," I admit. "I want to fix whatever it is that I screwed up. Hell, I don't even know what I screwed up, or how. Lee, I'm sorry I didn't give you time after the mess with Greenback. I really am."
He shakes his head. "Kara that… it didn't have much to do with it," he admits. "It was more like the final insult. I can't make you do anything, or think anything, or even follow a basic command. We got so… comfortable with one another, that I couldn't even be an effective CAG." He lets out another sigh. "I screwed up as much as you did."
"So let's fix it!" I say, and my voice is more than shaking. It's downright unsteady. I have no control over this conversation, and I hate it. Hell, even not knowing seems better than putting more nails in a coffin.
"We can't," he says. "Kara, we don't want the same thing. I understand that – really – but when I'm around you I just…" He trails off, and his eyes finally come up to meet mine. "Have you ever wanted anything you couldn't have?" he asked.
I had to think about that one. "Parents," I admit. "What little I had of them was pretty lousy, and I can remember always wanting to have what the other kids did. And an end to this damned war." I take a deep breath before continuing, "And right now I just want to be on speaking terms with my best friend."
His eyes are down again, and his shoulders are slumped. I have to listen hard to pick up his words, and when I do I almost wish I'd missed them. "I can't do things in halves, Kara. I never could, but I kept finding ways to keep it together. I've been half in love with you since Dad stuck me in your room at the Academy and I found out that the pilot prodigy he'd found had the greenest eyes and the brightest smile I'd ever seen. Friends seemed a good start then, and after you met Zak it was pretty much over. You can't hope for what you can't have, so I kept things in perspective. When we lost Zak… Kara, I didn't stay clear of you because of my dad. I did it because I didn't trust myself around you."
"Trust yourself?"
He shrugs. "To keep my hands in my pockets," he admits. "And to just be a friend. Without Zak, there were… possibilities. I didn't want to impose that on you, especially when I knew you were hurting. And I never would have looked for an assignment with you. I knew that being that close all the time would wear me down."
"I don't understand this," I tell him, trying to get a look at his eyes and not managing very well. "Lee, you never said a word at the Academy. If you felt this way then…"
"It was easier to hope," he admitted. "I figured things would start up naturally, then progress slowly from there. I didn't count on Zak showing up and throwing things out of kilter."
"So, you wanted us together?" I ask, more confused than ever. "And you wanted things to progress?"
He nods, but still looks miserable.
"So what's the problem?" I ask in exasperation. "Isn't that what was happening?"
He shook his head this time. "What was happening was that I got my hopes up again. And all it did was mess me up, Kara. Why in hell do you think I forgot to double-check Greenback's preflight? It was because my mind was on the night before, and how to convince you to go a step further. I was hoping, instead of doing my job. It nearly got a kid killed. I had just realized that it had to stop – things had to be one way or the other so that I can stay clear – and then you walked in and I literally jumped you. Does that show you how little control I have around you?"
"You were hyped on adrenaline," I remind him. "We've all been there. I fight; you kissed. One emotional outlet is as good as another when your body's in overdrive. And I didn't mind, Lee."
"You like being attacked?" he asked with clear doubt, but at least he looked up at me.
"I went in there planning to get decked," I tell him with a smile. "Instead, I got a different kind of attack. Trust me, this was an improvement."
"It isn't a joke, Kara. I could have hurt you."
I shrug. "Like I said, we've done more damage than that over smaller things. One of the things I've always liked best about you is that you treat me like an equal. I'm not fragile, Lee. I never have been." He looked away again, and I frankly want to hit him. "Why is this bugging you so much? Lee, I'm not hurt, or mad, or anything else you seem to be so damned worried about. Did it ever occur to you that you're worrying about nothing?"
"Tell that to Greenback," he mutters.
"You did your job. After three months in Vipers, he should know how to do a preflight, and he should frakking well do it himself. You can only hold his hand so long."
"But if my mind had been on my work…"
"So where was it?" I ask in frustration.
"On you!" he snaps back. I'm stunned speechless for a moment, and he continues. "On the night before, and being with you, and how to make sure it happened again. Like I told you, getting my hopes up."
"Up for what?" I ask. "You keep saying that, and it doesn't make any sense."
"I guess it doesn't."
Rolling my eyes, I seriously contemplate hitting him. I'd do it, but I don't think it would stop there, and a mutual beating won't do anything for us besides put us in Life Station, or possibly the brig. "How in hell do you expect me to know what you want if you won't tell me?" I ask reasonably.
"Why do I have to tell you?" he fires back. "If you couldn't frakking figure it out after living with me for three years, how in hell do you expect to understand it now?"
"You never said anything then, either! You want me to read your mind, and I can't do it. I've asked you a hundred times what you want, and you keep telling me I have to figure it out on my own. Well, I can't! The only thing I've figured out is that when I try to keep from losing you, you're even further away, and I'm sick of hurting."
"That makes both of us," he says miserably.
"So tell me what to do," I ask. Beg, really, as much as I hate to admit it. "Put me in a Viper and I'm a genius, but when it comes to relationships I haven't got a clue. I was afraid that if things changed – if we were more than friends – and something went wrong, then you wouldn't want to be around me. So you promised we'd stay friends, but we're not. You won't talk to me, you won't see me, and won't even be caught in the frakking room with me! You lied, Lee. And if I can't trust you to stay with me when we keep the rules the same, how do you expect me to trust you when all the rules start changing?"
"It wasn't a lie, Kara," he says, and it's softer now. It probably has something to do with the tears that are on my face, but I'll be damned if I'll embarrass myself further by brushing them away. He's seen me cry before and lived to tell about it. But, we had been friends then. "I just can't do it anymore. I'm tired of waiting. I always told myself you were worth the wait, but nothing is worth people getting hurt. When my mind is on you – on us – instead of on my work, people get hurt."
"Well when you don't, I get hurt," I mutter miserably. "And take a look in the mirror. You can't tell me that this is pain-free from your side of it."
"Maybe a lot of pain now is easier than dragging it out," he says with a sigh. "Kara… I'm tired."
When he looks up this time, I see the absolute defeat in his eyes. He's given up, on everything. He's given up on the friendship, on the partnership, and now on what might have someday been more. He's done. It's not just in my mind; Lee is shutting down as I watch, and it's more than I can take. Lords, I just want it to stop hurting. I want to go to my best friend and have him hold me, and tell him about the jerk my boyfriend has become, but I was right. It doesn't work both ways. Gaining one loses the other, and now I've lost both, and it just… hurts.
I guess he's expecting some kind of an answer, because he watches me for a long time. I can't say a thing. Hell, I don't think I could if my life depended on it, and right now it does. What am I supposed to say, anyway? That I love him? Frak, he knows that. Doesn't he?
"I'm sorry, Kara."
I shake my head. It's not ending this way; it can't. I have to work with this man, and I think of his father like my own. He can't do this. I won't let him do this to me. I've had my world shattered twice already, once in losing Zak and then a second time when I lost the rest of the world. I won't lose Lee. Whatever he says, part of this decision is mine, and it's already been made.
But I've already given him all that I have. I've been his co-worker and his friend, he's always had my love, and two weeks before I'd even offered more. Just about the only thing I haven't offered him is my body, and the only reason I haven't is the fear that I'd lose him if things weren't to his satisfaction in that department. I mean, face it, I'm not a cover girl. Zak had often laughingly told me that I was built for distance and not show, and I always thought it was his way of being polite. But Lee had mentioned eyes and smile, and those weren't part of my qualifications as a pilot. Maybe he did see more. Maybe he wanted to see more. Hell, at this point I was willing to try anything. How pathetic is that?
So I did the last thing I could. I unzipped my flight suit and started peeling off layers. The top went first and then the catch on the belt, which my hands fumbled with for a long time. I reached for the tails of the dark tank and tugged it quickly over my head, then reached to take hold of the lighter one. By the time those were gone and I was reaching for my bra, he'd moved enough to put his hands over mine.
"What are you doing?" he asked, and he actually sounded surprised. Well, at least it was some feeling. I considered that progress.
I sniffle once, hating the fact that I'm not one of those beautiful, tragic criers. When I cry it's a mess, complete with runny nose and blotchy skin. It seems pretty trivial though at the moment. "Whatever you want," I mutter, doing my best to keep my voice steady. I hate being out of control, whether of my emotions, my relationships, or my life in general. At the moment, I seem to have lost my grip on all three.
"Stop," he tells me.
I shake my head, and take a good solid grip on my bra, hoping that he won't run screaming when he sees how little I have. But it's all that's left, and if I don't do this than I'll never know what might have happened if I had.
His hands are over mine, preventing their upward motion. Hell, I can't even strip for the man. He doesn't want anything. Finally I realize the truth; I have nothing to offer him. He already has it all, and what he doesn't have he doesn't want. Frak, what he does have he doesn't want. With a final, minute struggle, I give up. It's over, and I can't do a thing about it. I've lost everything here, up to and including my dignity. Why would I have thought he'd even want…?
His arms slipping around me are a surprise. They're warm, and the squeeze is hard. It's the hug I would have done anything for only moments before, and yet it confuses the hell out of me. I finally realize what Lee means about the half-way, the back and forth. The whiplash is enough to make me nauseous. One moment there's no hope, and the next there is, and then there's not, and now…
Now he's holding me, and I wish to hell I could pull away and throw it in his face, but I need it too much. He's my anchor, and I need someone to keep me steady when life starts tossing me around. Right now I'm tossed all over the place, and he's just about all that's holding me together. As much as I want to let go, it's nowhere in the realm of possibility. I'm not quite sure how long he held me, but it was long enough that I started holding him back, and even over my own crying I could hear an occasional sniffle from him.
"I can't get anything right," I mutter. "I just wish I knew what you wanted."
His arms tighten for a moment. "I thought I did," he responds, and his voice is as wobbly as mine. "I had it all figured out, right up until you started tossing clothes and I had to decide what to do with you."
"Thanks," I tell him dryly.
"That isn't what I meant," he says as he loosens his grip and faces me. His blue eyes are red-rimmed, and between that and the black shadows he looks pretty bad – maybe as bad as I feel. "It's just… the look on your face… Kara, I thought if I could just get you to see things my way then everything would fit together. I thought if we were closer – physically closer – then I'd be happy. Lords know I can barely look at you anymore without thinking about sex."
"Not quite the package you expected?" I ask self-consciously.
That earns my arms a squeeze. "The package is perfect, right up to the look in your eyes. Kara, this isn't what you want, and you can't tell me that it is."
It's hard to lie to my best friend, even to keep him. "I don't not want it," I hedge. "I just… Lee I can't lose you. If this is what you need, then I'll manage. It's not like you're a hardship to touch, and I figure we would have got there eventually. So if you want it now, then what's the difference?"
"The difference is that I want you to want it as much as I do," he says, resting his forehead against mine and giving me a little shake. "I want all of you; body and heart."
"Lee, you've always had my heart," I tell him. "Hell, you have my soul, too. This is really the only thing you don't have, and I don't mind…"
"Call me selfish," he says as he slips his arms beneath mind and tugs me close to his body. "But, I want enthusiasm, and excitement, and maybe even anticipation. What you're giving me is desperation, and it's not quite the same. I didn't even realize…"
"What?"
"That I was pretty much blackmailing you," he says softly. "You give me what I want, or I take away your best friend. I mean, from your perspective it's pretty cold. I didn't mean it that way, but…"
"Go on," I encourage, as much to stay in his arms as to hear any explanation.
"But it does hurt," he says softly. "When I want something so much, and you really don't…"
"I never said I didn't want it," I correct. "I'm just… so afraid that I'll lose you if this doesn't work out. Sex screws up relationships, at least nine times out of ten. I didn't want to take the chance. But if I don't, then I screw it up anyway."
"If you're so afraid of it, then why did you…" He gestures to my bra, the only thing I'm still wearing above the waist.
"Because I thought I'd lost you. When you don't have anything left to lose, then it's a lot easier to gamble." I feel his arms tighten again, and I hug him with all my strength. I really don't want to let go.
When Lee finally pulls back, I'm way beyond shocked to see a faint smile on his face, and something there that looks a hell of a lot like relief. He holds my face in his hands, brushes the last of my tears away with his thumbs, and then gently lays his forehead against mine. "You were right," he says softly. "You're not ready. I'm not either; not yet." I hiccup, and he backs up so that I can see the smile widen slightly. "All this, and neither of us are ready. I really thought I was, right up until you offered me what I thought I wanted."
"We will be?" I said, and while I meant it as a statement, it comes out sounding like a question.
He nods. "Yeah, we will be," he assures me. "And you know what? It'll be worth the wait."
I have to smile at the pure conceit in his voice. "For both of us," I mumble, but somehow I'm smiling too. I think it has a lot to do with his arms back around me, holding tight and warm. I feel safe again, and that should scare me. But this is Lee, and in my heart I know I'm always safe with him.
After a long while of his reaching from the bed to the chair, he finally tugged me over onto his lap. Now that was a funny situation. I'm nearly as tall as he is, and it wasn't anywhere near as romantic as anyone would think. I was half embarrassed, he was mostly knocked over, and both of us wound up in a laughing heap on his bed. When the laughter finally stopped, I was surprised to find my face wet again, this time most likely tears of relief. He must have known that, because he didn't comment on them, but brushed his cheek against mine as he backed up against his pillow and pulled me up against him. His beard was rough and scratchy, but his arms were warm and hard, and I was so frakking tired that I couldn't keep my eyes open.
It was hours later when I woke up, still laying on Lee's bed – on Lee if it came to that – only now with a blanket around me as well as his arm. The slightly rough texture feelt good on my back, between bra and flight suit. I really wished I'd taken time to get my boots off, though. Between the two of us, his clean bed was filthy. It's the only evidence of what happened the night before, proving that it was real. Most of it felt like a really bad dream, and if it hadn't been for the dull throb of a headache and Lee's uncharacteristic lack of a shave, I might have thought I'd imagined it. Think of that; the worst experience in my life, the most fear I've ever known, and it didn't even feel real once it was over.
I knew we still had some talking to do, but the most important thing was pretty clear. "I love you," I whispered against his chest. It didn't matter if he heard it, because I knew that he had to have known it to have put up with me. And I didn't need to hear it back for the same reason. But I needed to say it – to make the words real – because this time I wasn't going back. Neither was Lee… I wouldn't let him.