Chapter 4

"Hey Lee, Peter wants to see your cast!" Zak announced at full volume as he bounded through the front door, with Peter a few steps behind. Their footsteps pounded heavily down the hallway.

William winced and hurried to his own bedroom door. "Zak!" William hissed in a low voice into the hallway. "Keep your voice down. Your brother's asleep."

"Oh," Zak said, stopping just short of opening the door to his room. The door opened a second later anyway. "Hey, Dad said you were asleep."

"I was," Lee yawned. "Hey Peter."

"Hey Lee," Peter greeted his friend. "Sorry, we didn't know you were sleeping. I just wanted to sign your cast before Zak fills it up with all his drawings."

"Peter," Caroline said from the other end of the hallway, "why don't you come back tomorrow? Lee was up all night. He should be feeling better in the morning."

"Sure," he said. "I'll see you tomorrow Lee."

Lee gave his friend a tired smile. He pointed to his cast. "I'll save you an open spot."

Peter laughed and waved goodbye. Caroline closed the door behind him.

Zak was standing in the hallway staring at his father. "Daddy... are you leaving?"

William saw the eyes of his entire family now fall upon him. His packed duffle bag was sitting by the bedroom door and he was once again dressed in full uniform. All he was missing was his coat and cover. After an uncomfortable pause, he answered, "I'm afraid so Zak. Something came up and... I have to get back to the Galactica."

Lee and Caroline stood silently. Zak protested. "But you just got home."

"I know," he sighed. "I'm sorry." He looked down the hallway to his wife and said again. "I'm sorry."

"But what about Mommy's birthday?" Zak asked, on the verge of tears. "We never got to celebrate. And we never had movie night."

"Zak," Caroline said gently, "Daddy really does need to go." She shot her husband a withering look, but told her son, "You know he wouldn't leave unless it was very important."

William swallowed hard. He saw Lee glancing back and forth between his parents, then his eldest son's eyes dropped to the floor, his face looking downcast.

"Can you come back in a few days at least?" Zak asked, wiping his teary cheeks on his sleeve.

"I... I don't know Zak," William told him. "It's too soon to tell, but... I'll try to come back as soon as I can."

"Promise?"

William paused a moment, then told Zak, "I promise." Zak ran up to his father and hugged him. William hugged him back, struggling to stay composed. He disengaged himself from his youngest. Lee was still looking at the floor. "I need to call a cab," he said and stepped past his family to get to the phone in the living room.

The ten minutes that William waited for the cab's arrival were among the longest of his life. Zak was in tears, and his wife and oldest son said nothing to him. When he finally heard the cab pull up in front of the house, William was both relieved... and terribly ashamed. He donned his coat. Zak gave him another teary hug, and then ran off crying to his room.

"Lee...," William said to his son, who still stood silently, unable to meet his father's eyes. "Take care of the arm, Son. And look after your brother."

"Yes Sir," Lee whispered in reply, then turned away slowly and followed after his brother.

Caroline regarded him in the entry, her face expressionless.

"I am sorry," he told her. "I just don't know how to... how not to make things worse."

"Your cab is waiting," she said.

"Please... tell him..."

"Everything you couldn't," she said, completing his train of thought. "I will."

William nodded. He wanted to kiss her goodbye, but knew from the look on her face that it would be a mistake to try. He slung the duffle bag over his shoulder and headed for his cab. Dropping the bag on the back seat he felt in his coat pocket for his cover, but it wasn't there. "Hold on," he told the driver. "I'll be right back." He jogged back to the house and stepped quietly through the door. As he'd expected, his cover was on the end table in the living room, right beside the phone. His family was nowhere to be seen. He heard voices though, coming from the boys' bedroom. Zak was still crying and Caroline was attempting damage control.

"It was an emergency," William heard his wife say. "He didn't have a choice. You both know how important his job is."

"There was no emergency, Mom." That was Lee's voice, calm, but sorrowful. "The phone never rang. No one called for him. He left because of me. It's my fault."

William winced.

"Lee, no. It is NOT your fault," Caroline said emphatically. "Your father loves you. You do believe that, don't you?"

William paused, listening for Lee to answer. There was no answer.

Blinking hard to clear away a sudden surge of tears, William slipped out once more. When he reached the cab he nearly grabbed the duffle bag out and sent the car away, but after a few seconds of hesitation he climbed in and pulled the door shut.

William stared at the framed picture of his wife and two little boys. He'd seen that picture countless times, but he still could never help smiling at the happy faces of his children. They looked so young, so innocent. And Lee looked so blonde! William tended to forget these days that Lee was so fair-haired as a child. As he'd grown older, Lee's hair had naturally darkened considerably. Some people said that as Lee had matured he'd become more like his father, and less like his mother. Looking at the picture now, William felt a growing sense of regret for the changes that had gradually come over Lee. He'd once been so much like his mother, especially when he smiled. William could not now recall the last time that he had seen a genuine smile on his son's face.

The photograph had been taken by Sheila Mormont on the occasion of Lee's 10th birthday. Caroline had taken their boys, along with a couple of Lee's friends, for a day at the beach. She had sent the picture to William via military post, along with a letter detailing the event, since William had been "unable to attend." He still had the letter somewhere, tucked into a keepsake folder, probably in the bottom drawer of his desk. He wasn't sure. He hadn't read it... or any of the other letters... for years. Most of the letters were from Caroline. The rest were from the boys, keeping William up-to-date on some recent event at school that William had missed. It used to be that William read the letters often. Some of them he'd even memorized. But after Zak died, no more letters had come. Nothing from Caroline... or from Lee. William simply hadn't had the heart to read the old ones anymore. Caroline had divorced him. Lee had disowned him. And Zak was gone.

The more that William stared at the picture, the more he felt a sense a shame. "I should have been there," he thought. He had experienced so much of his family's life through their letters instead of by participation. But that birthday in particular...

"I should have been there."

Lee's cast had come off his arm just a few days before. His relief at being able to play with his friends again was apparent in the photograph, written all over his smiling face, but William had not been there to see it in person. Neither had he been present to witness Lee's dejected tears after William had run away from home the day after Lee's arm was broken.

"That... that was the most cowardly act of my life," William whispered to himself. He had bolted back to the Galactica rather than finding a way to set things right with his son. So much had gone unsaid. He recalled also that more than once at the hospital, he had wanted... even intended... to hug his little boy. He had sworn to himself that he would do so, and would let the boy know he loved him. But it never happened. In fact, it had been another 20 years before William had embraced his son, and that was only after the world had come to an end.

It was on that horrible day of the Holocaust that he'd found Lee here, in the commander's quarters, staring at the very same photograph that William now held. Lee's eyes were tearing over the image of his mother from so long ago, but immediately upon realizing that his father was watching, Lee had stifled back his grief and tried to leave rather than allow his father to see him cry.

"I taught him to do that," William thought, regretfully. "I taught him that, long ago." Was it any wonder then, that when William tried to hug Lee on that terrible day, Lee didn't even know how to respond? It took Lee several seconds to accept his father's gesture and return the embrace. And the moments following had been filled with an awkward silence rather than familial comfort.

"I should never have left," William thought, recalling his hasty exit from home all those years ago. "I should have stayed, and found a way to talk to Lee. Because I didn't... that was the beginning of the end. Nothing was ever quite the same again."

Caroline had gone to work and their relationship had forever changed. He didn't blame her career for the slow deterioration of their marriage, but after Lee's accident, she had become less and less reliant on William's inclusion in the family. She had remained supportive and faithful to him, but she had gradually built a life of her own that did not include him, until eventually divorcing him altogether.

Lee had become more independent than ever. In fact he practically raised himself through his teenage years, and appointed himself to the role of Zak's surrogate father in William's regular absence. He never again turned to his father for guidance. Fortunately, Lee's choices and judgment always proved to be sound and responsible. Personal matters were never spoken of between father and son. It was as though Lee had learned that only matters of duty were suitable for discussion with his father. After all, that was all that his father ever bothered to discuss with him. There had still been happy times in the family, but there was an unspoken distance laid out between William and his wife and his eldest son that was never bridged again.

Only Zak had remained essentially unchanged over the years. Always the enthusiastic dreamer. Seldom practical. Usually relying on the guidance of his father or older brother to find his way. It wasn't until Zak had attempted, and failed, to qualify for entrance to flight school that William's guidance had conflicted with Lee's. William had been quite surprised to learn that Lee was trying to dissuade his younger brother from pursuing a flight career. Zak had dreamed of flying, just as Lee had, all his life. Or so William had believed. When William spoke pointedly with Zak on the subject, expressing his disappointment over Zak's poor performance, Zak ashamedly assured him that the failed entrance exam was a simple result of carelessness on his part, and he promised he would work diligently to earn his wings if given the chance. Lee however, had tried to encourage his brother toward studies in aeronautical engineering or navigation where Zak's gift for mathematics could be put to good use. Zak had actually quite excelled at math, once Lee had succeeded in persuading his brother to apply himself at school.

"He should be designing vipers, not flying them," Lee had said.

"He wants to fly," William argued. "He's wanted it his whole life."

"You've wanted it his whole life," Lee countered.

William had paid no heed to his elder son's opinion, and only a few months later, Zak had died at the controls of a viper. The accident report concluded that although a mechanical malfunction had occurred, it was not an unrecoverable failure and the pilot should have been able to maintain control and land safely. The primary cause of the crash was determined to be "pilot error." Even so, William had not, at the time, been willing accept that he had erred in arranging for Zak's attendance at flight school. Lee had been absolutely infuriated at the funeral over his father's utter state of denial for any responsibility, and William once again faced a situation where he had no idea how to talk to his son. He had once hoped that as Lee grew older, it would be simpler for father and son to communicate as adults. Sadly, the opposite had occurred. As he was forced to face Lee's rage, William had been utterly clueless as to how he could even begin trying to bridge the chasm that had grown between them. Ultimately, Lee's response had been to give up on speaking to his father altogether. Only one son had been buried, but William had lost them both.

"I should have stayed," William said again. "Even if it took several tries to get it right back when Lee was a child, I should not have given up on learning how to talk to my son." Only the fortunate coincidence of their mutual survival of the Holocaust had brought them back together. William knew he'd been given a second chance with Lee and he knew he could not allow this chance to slip by.

A knock on the hatch drew William's attention away from the photograph in his hand. He cleared his throat before calling out, "Enter."

With a heavy groan of shifting metal, the hatch was pushed open. Lee, dressed in his flight suit and looking quite weary, stepped into his father's quarters. "Colonel Tigh said you wanted to see me, Sir."

"Yes. Come in Captain." William set the photograph aside and stood up.

Lee shut the hatch behind him and stepped forward to the center of the commander's chambers before stopping to stand at attention.

"At ease Captain," William said. "How was your patrol?"

Lee shifted into a parade-rest stance. "Routine, Sir. Fortunately. Nothing unusual and I've already been fully debriefed by Colonel Tigh, since you were off-duty."

William offered his son a relaxed smile. "Relax Lee. This is strictly unofficial, and when I said, 'At ease,' I meant, 'Have a seat.'"

"Sir?" Lee sounded confused.

William waved at the long, curved sofa against the wall. "Sit down," he invited his son.

Lee hesitated. "Um... no disrespect Commander... but if this isn't anything official... could this wait till later Sir?" He swallowed, and then sounded apologetic when he added, "I just finished 14 hours in a cockpit, and I really need a quick shower and a bite to eat."

William took a moment to study Lee's face. "You do look pretty wiped." More sternly, he asked, "You're not still trying to cover Kara's shift in addition to your own, are you?"

"Not entirely on my own," Lee mitigated. Seeing his father's frown, he added, "Commander, we have so many rooks in the squadron who still need mentoring, even on a simple patrol."

"I know," William nodded, understanding his CAG's logistical predicament.

"And with my very best pilot, who also happens to be the flight-instructor, on medical leave..."

"Lee, I understand all that," William interrupted. "But you can't mentor every rook in the squadron by yourself all the time, while still overseeing the entire air group."

"I'm not trying to, Sir," Lee assured him.

"More often than you should, Captain," the commander said. As soon he'd said it, he felt a flash of regret. When he'd asked Colonel Tigh to send Lee by after his patrol, he had not intended it to be a lecture session, but that was the direction this conversation was now moving. I'm doing it again, he thought. Frak, I'm doing it again!

Lee saw the look of distaste that settled over his father's face and interpreted it as disapproval directed at him. He sighed inwardly, but kept his outward appearance composed. "I'll review the schedule again Commander," he said, hoping to appease his father. "Perhaps Frosty and Stinger can step up their rotation."

William took a few seconds to get his thoughts straightened out. He could almost see Lee withdrawing away from him again and looking for the first opportunity to bolt for the door and escape his father's scrutiny. Not this time, William determined. I'm not going to leave him with the wrong impression again.

"Son," he said quietly, "I just don't want you to forget that your well-being is just as important as that of any of your pilots."

Some of the tension eased away from Lee's posture. "I will try to keep that in mind, Sir."

"Good," William nodded. "Enough about that. The reason I really wanted you to stop by was this..." He retrieved a black, vinyl folder from the coffee table in front of the sofa and handed it to Lee. "I came across it in my desk this morning and I thought you might like to have it."

Lee flipped open the folder and felt his heart skip a beat. His throat felt suddenly tighter.

"Your mother sent me that photograph a few days after the ceremony," William told his son. "She thought I might like to see how you looked wearing your new captain's insignia... since I couldn't be there to see it in person."

Lee blinked to clear his eyes. The picture had been taken by the Atlantia's staff photographer immediately after Lee's mother had proudly pinned the new insignias onto her son's collar. Lee and his mother both faced the camera, with the Atlantia's bronze seal adorning the wall behind them. The room had been crammed full by the flagship battlestar's entire command staff and air group. Lee had not only been promoted to the rank of captain that day, but also decorated for valorous service. His mother had cried twice before the ceremony was over, but in the photograph she was smiling beautifully with clear bright-blue eyes that matched Lee's own.

"This...," Lee started to say, but was forced to stop and clear his throat. "I think this may have been the last picture... she ever took." Lee cleared his throat again and closed the folder. He took a deep breath and looked back toward his father. "Thank you, Sir," he said quietly.

"I know we weren't on speaking terms at the time," William said. "But I do regret that I wasn't there."

Lee looked away from his father. "It might have been very awkward if you had been, Sir."

"I know," William said. "But I still should have been there. And Lee... I do know there are many other occasions in your life that I should say the same about. Your tenth birthday, for instance."

That took Lee by surprise. "My tenth birthday?" Of all the important events in Lee's life that his father had missed, that was the one he chose to single out?

"Do you remember when you broke your arm?" William asked.

Lee nodded. "Of course. Mom kept me inside after school for a month until the cast came off. I just about went stir crazy."

"Do you remember that I had just gotten home on leave, the day you broke your arm?"

"Yes. You got recalled back the next day."

"I didn't come home on leave again for almost nine months."

Lee regarded his father, listening carefully, but having no idea where this was going.

"Son, I have a confession to make," William said, removing his glasses. "I could have rescheduled my leave to be home for your birthday, but I didn't." After a long and awkward pause, he added, "In fact, I never really had to leave in the first place. I went away... and stayed away... because I was ashamed to face you, Son."

Lee appeared absolutely bewildered.

"I let you down. I let the whole family down, but you especially, because I know that I left you thinking it was your fault... that I was ashamed of you, instead of myself. The fact is Lee, I have never, ever, been ashamed of you. Even when things were at their very worst between us, I've always been proud of you. I'm very sorry that I ever gave you cause to doubt that. I should never have left that day... and I should have been there to see you promoted."

Lee stood in stunned silence for several seconds, staring at his father, unable to quite believe what he'd just heard. Had his father really just apologized? Lee had no idea how to respond. This had never happened before.

William cleared his throat and put his glasses back on. "Well... I won't keep you any longer Captain. You've just had a long flight, so get some rest." He turned away from Lee and headed toward his desk to break the tension in the air.

Lee dropped his gaze toward the floor, still looking stunned. Then his expression softened, and he became thoughtful. "You know," he said quietly, "something odd did happen at the end of the flight today."

William glanced back at Lee over his shoulder. "Did you include it in your report to Colonel Tigh?"

"No Sir."

"Why not?"

Disregarding his father's question, Lee recalled softly, "After 14 very long hours of patrolling, I was weaving my way back through the fleet, on approach to Galactica. And as I came within view of the ship, I thought, 'Almost home.' Then I thought, 'Home? That's weird. Why would I think of this place as home?'"

Lee lifted his gaze from the floor and looked toward his father. "I think... now I know why."

Now it was William's turn to stand in surprised silence.

This time, Lee broke the tension. "Thank you for the photograph Sir," he said. He nodded his head, saying, "Goodnight Commander."

William watched his son pull open the hatch. Just before Lee stepped through, he told him, "Have a good night Kiddo." Then the hatch swung shut and William was left alone. No, not really alone. Not any more. They may not have been in the same room, but William suddenly felt that for the first time in many years, he and his son had both just come home.