"What did you do to my Viper?" Tyrol demanded.
Lee climbed out of the Viper and surveyed the damage. It looked like the ship had gone through a blender; he was amazed it hadn't fallen to bits in the middle of the fight. "Sorry," he mumbled, trying not to think about what would have happened if the Viper had come apart. "I'll help fix it."
Tyrol made a sound of annoyance, then moved on to yell at Hot Dog, whose Viper had lost half its left wing.
"You'd think some people would show more gratitude after you saved their asses from the Cylons."
Lee turned to see Kara standing next to her Cylon raider. She was wiping her slimy hands on a towel, trying to look casual, but he was sure she'd been waiting anxiously to see how the fight would go. It had been a minor skirmish, five Cylon raiders against the CAP, so they haven't even bothered to send out her and the other off-duty pilots, but things had gone worse than expected, and besides, even in a little fight there was always a chance that someone wouldn't come back.
"Well, I'm used to being underappreciated," Lee said with an overdramatic sigh. "You've trained me well."
Kara flung the towel at him in response, and it draped itself across his face. It smelled like...well, like things that didn't belong anywhere near his face. "Ew," he commented, tossing it aside. "Was that necessary?"
"A present for the conquering hero," Kara teased with her usual smirk.
Lee rolled his eyes and left before she could find anything else to throw at him.
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He didn't bother washing up, just changed out of his flight suit and headed back to the hangar bay. Kara was gone, but Cally had already started working on his Viper.
"You don't have to help me," he said.
"It's either this or do inventory," she explained. "If you don't mind me getting in your way, I'd much rather do this."
"You're not getting in the way," Lee objected, sliding under the Viper. "If anything, I'm getting in yours."
"You're one of the few pilots I actually trust fixing the Vipers," Cally said, smiling. "But Hot Dog better not try to help out with his."
Lee laughed. "If he does, I'll help you scare him off." Reaching for a wrench, he set to work on the battered underside of the Viper. "Thanks."
"Hey, this is what I'm here for," she pointed out.
They worked in silence for a while before Cally asked, apropos of nothing, "Did you always want to be a pilot?"
"Of course," Lee said. "Think about who my dad is." There was a time when that would have come out angry, but the bitterness had faded to a sort of mild resignation.
"Good point," Cally agreed.
Another silence followed. Lee looked at the battered hull of his Viper and said, without really knowing why, "You know, when I was in flight school, we used to complain about how, now that we'd made peace with the Cylons, we were committing ourselves to a boring lifetime of border patrols and deep space exploration. We wanted to be war heroes like our fathers and teachers, and we were worried we'd never have the chance."
"Turns out you got to be a hero after all," Cally noted.
"But none of the others did." The words hung awkwardly between them; everyone Lee had gone to flight school with, and in fact everyone he had ever served with was dead now, and largely forgotten.
"I forget sometimes," Cally said apologetically, "that Galactica's not your ship."
"She is now," Lee said. They didn't talk anymore for a while.
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Fixing the Viper took a long time, but in the end it looked like it would stand up to at least a few more flights. Lee took a quick shower and wandered over to the pilots' quarters.
Kara was lying in her rack when he got there, smoking and staring at nothing. Everyone else was gone, probably at dinner, except for Racetrack asleep in the corner. She had a reputation for being able to sleep through anything, so Lee didn't worry about waking her. He sat down on the rack opposite Kara, but she didn't look at him.
"Do you ever wonder how things might have been different if you hadn't hurt your knee?" Lee asked. He regretted the words the instant they were out of his mouth—of course she'd thought about what would have happened if she hadn't been a flight instructor—but it was too late to take them back.
"I'd be dead," Kara said shortly, her eyes still on the bottom of the rack above her.
Lee fumbled in the ensuing silence for something to say. "I'm glad things turned out this way," he finally offered. "I can't imagine being stuck here without you." He hadn't thought that through either, but he found he meant it. He liked the rest of Galactica's crew well enough, but Kara was different. To most people he was the CAG first and foremost, which meant there was always that bit of respectful distance that was never there with Kara. She was his friend by more than just chance, and if that meant he had to put up with teasing and smelly towels in his face and the occasional fight, it was entirely worth it.
"You and your dad would have killed each other, " Kara joked, always one to disrupt a potentially emotional moment.
"Probably," Lee said ruefully. He smiled, and the uncomfortable moment passed as they lapsed into easy silence.
Kara took a long drag on her stogie, then sat up and offered it to him. "How many more of these do you have?" Lee asked.
"Don't ask or I might think about it and change my mind," she threatened. Lee took the cigar and put it in his mouth, relaxing against the wall.
Kara had lain back down, so he could no longer see her face. "I'm glad you're here too," she said softly. Lee smiled around the stogie.