Chapter 7

Lee was awakened the next morning by a nurse who insisted that he wasn't allowed to sleep through breakfast. He could doze off again later, but if he wanted to get his strength back, he needed to eat. They raised the head of his bed and propped him up with an extra pillow to help him stay upright. Lee actually felt pretty steady sitting up and felt much better overall than he had the day before. He knew he had a long way to go before he would be jogging 20 laps around the ship again, but he felt plenty capable of sitting upright for a meal. Breakfast was bland eggs, toast with some kind of mild fruit spread, thin applesauce, and a cup of fruit juice.

"Is it supposed to be tasteless?" he asked the nurse after taking his first bite.

"Mine was," she commented dryly. "Need anything?"

"A bottle of hot sauce?"

She gave him a wry smile. "Maybe with lunch."

"Really?"

"No, not really." The nurse set what looked at first like an extra-heavy napkin beside Lee's food tray. Lee picked it up then gave the nurse a questioning look.

"Barf bag?"

"Just in case," she said, then winked at him and moved on to serve the next patient.

Lee set the bag back on the tray table and took another bite. Unfortunately the bag didn't sit unused for long. Lee had barely eaten half of his breakfast before his stomach heaved and rejected the meal. Disgruntled, he tried to wash the bile taste from his mouth by drinking the fruit juice, but his stomach didn't appreciate that either and he had to grab for the bag a second time. "Frak," he muttered, pushing the tray table aside and settling back against the pillows.

When the nurse returned a short while later to collect the tray he said to her, "I told you it needed hot sauce."

The nurse gave him a knowingly sympathetic look. She topped off the water bottle by his bed and handed it to him. "Just take small sips. You were able to keep that down yesterday. If you want to try eating again at lunchtime let me know."

Lee took a few swallows of water and was pleased that it didn't cause any problems with his stomach. He settled back and just tried to relax, considering just going back to sleep. Then Doctor Cottle came by on his morning rounds, checking Lee's blood pressure, pulse, and listening to his heart and lungs.

"Any new complaints Captain?" the doctor asked.

"Yes," Lee told him. "You need to fire your chef."

"He's not a chef," Cottle replied. "He's just some guy we hauled in from cleaning the head. Anything else?"

Lee hesitated before asking, "Have you heard from my father this morning?"

"Not from him, no. I did hear that he resumed official command this morning though. The CIC staff had some kind of brief ceremony for him."

Lee nodded. The ceremony had been all Lee's idea. He was the one who had planned it out. It wasn't exactly official military protocol, just a gesture intended to make the commander feel welcomed back. "I'm glad they went ahead with it," he said quietly.

"Well with you on the mend, he has to have something else to keep him busy."

"How long before you cut me loose?"

"That depends on how soon we can cut you off of the IV and when you're able to get back on your feet."

"I didn't do so well with breakfast."

"So I hear."

"But I think I could handle a short walk."

Cottle pursed his lips and squinted at Lee. "Let's hold off on that another day. If you're really feeling adventurous, you can always psych yourself up for lunch."

The doctor headed off to continue his rounds and Lee settled himself back on the bed. He was once again considering trying to doze off when he saw Crewman Specialist Cally entering the recovery bay. She was peering toward him almost tentatively, holding a cardboard box in her hands. When it was clear to her that he had noticed her, she smiled shyly and nodded, looking like she was about to head off somewhere else, but she approached his bed instead.

"Hello Sir," Cally said, smiling.

"Hi Cally." Lee noted the large box in her hands and hoped it wasn't too heavy. He wondered briefly why the Chief hadn't sent one of the guys from the deck crew on whatever delivery errand Cally was here for.

"We've all heard the good news," she told Lee. "Everyone is very happy that you're going to be all right."

"Thank you Cally," he said. He nodded toward the box. "Please, don't let me keep you."

"Sorry?"

"Whatever you came here for, don't feel obligated to stand around chatting with me," he said.

"But... I came to see you," she said.

"Me?" Lee asked in surprise.

"Yeah," she said, averting her eyes from his. "I uh, brought you something. It's... it's from the whole deck crew." She set the box down on the tray table and reached in to pull out what was inside. She set it on the table and discarded the box. Lee stared at it. It was a metal sculpture of a potted bouquet of flowers. "I tried to leave this here for you a few days ago, but there wasn't anywhere to put it and the nurses said it would be in the way, but maybe now..."

Lee sat up and pulled the tray table closer, scrutinizing the sculpture. Some bits were recognizable, such as conduit wires for the flower stems, and small bits of tubing, cut open and twisted around to form the flower petals. Mostly it was various bits of scrap that had been cut, shaped, and soldered together. An appreciative smile crept across Lee's face. "This is great. You all made this?"

Cally smiled broadly, pleased that he liked it. "Yeah. We did. We couldn't go pick the real things so... we improvised. Just our way of saying, 'get well soon.'"

"Thank you," Lee said, sincerely. "Please thank everyone on the flight deck for me and tell them that I'm... I'm very touched by this. It's beautiful."

"I'm glad you like it," she said.

"I love it."

Cally felt herself starting to blush and tried to take her leave. "Well, I don't want to tire you out. I'm just... we're all really glad you're okay."

Before she could walk away, Lee said, "Cally... would you mind staying for just a minute? There's something I need to ask you."

Nervously, she asked, "What is it?"

Lee regarded her pensively and said, "I really need a completely honest answer and I think I can trust you to give me one. Obviously the crew knows that I'm in here. What are they saying about me, really? What do they think happened?"

Cally fidgeted a bit. "Well, you know there are always a few gossip mongers who come up with crazy ideas, but most people don't really pay attention to them. Mostly we all just know what the Chief told us in his announcement."

"Announcement? The Chief made an announcement?"

Cally nodded. "Yeah. The morning after you..." She stopped, unable to say it.

"After I what?" Lee asked, encouraging her to tell him.

"After you used the Red Needle," she said quietly. She couldn't look at him at first, but after a few seconds her eyes tracked back toward his. They looked at each other for a few silent seconds then Lee closed his eyes and nodded.

"So, the whole ship thinks that I tried to off myself. Is that right?" When she didn't reply, Lee opened his eyes again and prodded her gently. "Cally? That's what everyone thinks, isn't it?"

Cally looked at Lee intently, staring straight into Lee's bright blue eyes, seeking the truth. "Did you?" she asked in a very quiet voice.

Lee looked at her sadly but answered without hesitation. "No. I didn't. My memory is still fuzzy about that night, but Cally I swear to you that I didn't try to kill myself. Apparently I did get stuck by a Red Needle, but I didn't do it. Someone tried to kill me."

Cally's eyes opened wide. "Who?" she whispered.

Lee frowned. "I don't know. But I'm going to find out. I'll remember. And when I do... Gods help the bastard."

Cally nodded, her face looking suddenly determined.

Lee asked her, "Would you spread the word for me? Tell the crew that I am not crazy. I didn't try to off myself and the son-of-a-bitch who did this had better start running for cover right now."

Cally nodded again. "I'll tell them," she promised. "And if we catch the bastard before you do... I swear I'll..."

Lee smiled. "Bite his ear off?"

Cally scoffed. "I was thinking much lower... and of using a blowtorch."

Lee winced. "Ouch. I'm glad you're on my side."

"I am you know," she said.

Lee smiled at her again. "I do know. Thank you. And thanks again for the flowers." He held out his hand to her.

On sudden impulse Cally leaned down, slipping inside Lee's outstretched arm and hugged him. Lee was surprised, but after only a second he hugged her back. Cally stepped back, certain now that she was blushing, but she didn't care.

"Feel better Sir," she told him.

"I already do," he said.

Cally walked out of sickbay with a shamelessly broad smile across her face.

Lee did doze off again after Cally left, but he didn't sleep for very long. After losing his breakfast he'd drunk nearly the entire bottle of water the nurse had given him and he managed to keep it down. In spite of the IV, his mouth still felt dry and his throat was still tender from being intubated, and the water helped to soothe him. However, a couple of hours later the extra water was heading south. His urine bag had been removed the day before, so Lee had to look for a bedpan. He didn't see one anywhere within reach.

"Frak," he muttered, wondering if the pan had slipped farther under the bed where he couldn't see it. He tried sitting up and leaning over the edge of the bed for a better look.

"Are you all right Sir?"

Lee looked up and saw Ensign Louis "Stinger" Karo walking towards him. Lee straightened up on the bed. "I'm fine Stinger, thanks." Stinger, who was 21 years old and looked barely 16, had been the greenest of green pilots on Galactica when the Holocaust began. Now, only a few months later, due to sheer attrition, Stinger was one of the more experienced pilots under Lee's command. Stinger was a scrappy kid and sometimes very immature, but he was cool-headed in combat and handled his bird well. He had flown right alongside Lee through the most harrowing encounters of the war, so Lee had to remind himself that as young as Stinger looked, the kid was no rook anymore.

Stinger walked up beside Lee's bed and regarded his CAG quizzically. "Did you need something Captain? It looked like you were looking for something."

Lee hesitated a moment, then shrugged. What the heck? Lee had been flying and rooming with Stinger for months now. He was practically family. "Actually, would you mind checking to see if there's a uh... bedpan under there?"

Stinger looked like he was forcing himself to keep a straight face, but he crouched down to look under the bed. He straightened up. "Sorry Sir. Don't see one." He glanced around. "Oh hey..." He trotted across the aisle and grabbed a pan from the bedside of another patient.

Lee saw what he was doing and tried to wave him off. "No, don't... I'll just page the nurses' station."

"Why?" Stinger asked, holding out the pilfered bedpan. When Lee hesitated to take it, Stinger took a look inside. "It's clean," he told Lee.

Lee chuckled and accepted the pan. "Thanks." Lee's body wanted him to put the pan to immediate use, but Stinger was still standing there with his trademark little-boy smile on his face.

"Starbuck told us all at morning briefing today that you were going to be okay. The whole squadron was really happy to hear that," Stinger said.

"Thanks," Lee said, grateful for the news but wishing that Stinger would go away so that he could...

"Oh, and you'll be very happy to hear that Starbuck has not lit up one single cigar in the briefing room yet this week. Some people think she's just run out of stogies, but I know she hasn't. She came across a whole case of the damn things out in the fleet somewhere and she's got them stashed in the bottom of her locker."

Stinger stood there with a big grin and as much as Lee was glad for the company he really needed to use the pan, but just couldn't do it with the junior pilot there gawking at him. "Thanks for the update," Lee told him. "Um, Stinger I need to..."

"You know it isn't just the stogies that Starbuck's done away with lately. She hasn't even cracked any jokes in pre-flight briefings or threatened anybody. It's like she's trying to be all professional or something. It's kinda weird."

"Stinger," Lee said a little more forcefully to be sure he had the ensign's attention. "I really appreciate that you came to see me. I do. But at the moment, I really need to uh..." He waved a hand at the bedpan.

"Right, sorry." Stinger blinked. "Guess it's a little awkward with somebody standing right over you."

"Yes," Lee agreed. "That it is. Would you mind...?"

"No, not at all. I just wanted to drop by and let you know we're all really glad that... you're okay. It was pretty damn scary, you know?" The boyish smile vanished from Stinger's young face. He suddenly looked quite upset. "When you stopped breathing... and then Starbuck got all panicky... Man, the Cylons have never managed to scare me like that."

"I'm sorry you had to see it," Lee told him.

Stinger shifted his feet nervously. "Yeah, uh... I'm glad Starbuck found you in time... and I'm glad I was able to help. I'm really glad we didn't lose you Sir."

"Thanks Stinger. I'm glad too. But... would you mind...?"

Stinger blinked. "Oh, right. Sorry. Take care Sir."

The young ensign saluted Lee and by proper protocol waited until Lee returned the salute before he turned and walked away. Lee couldn't help chuckling at the situation even as he was relieved to be able to put the bedpan to use. He thought about what Stinger had told him, and for the first time he considered what it must have been like for those who found him... and saved him. He needed to know what happened. He needed to talk to Kara.

It was a busy morning for William on his first day back at work in over 6 weeks. He thought he'd done a pretty good job at keeping up with all the status reports while he was still recuperating from his injuries, but he was soon confronted by a deluge of new reports after arriving at CIC. To be fair, the CIC staff had taken the time to welcome him back in a simple but very thoughtful change-of-command style ceremony first... then they had dumped the mountain-load of reports on him.

"Now I remember why I was so willing to retire and turn this place into a museum," he had quipped to Lt. Gaeta when he'd received the first stack of papers. Still, William had to admit that it felt good to be back on the job and no longer forced to sit idle while matters of high importance were decided in his absence. He had felt like an anxious athlete kept in the penalty box while the opposing team racked up points in a power play. Well, the penalty period was over, and Adama was back in play.

He thumbed through the pile of papers and shook his head. "Hasn't anyone even tried to keep up with this since I've been out?"

"Yes Sir," Lt. Gaeta told him. "These have only been collecting for about a week... just since Captain Adama... fell ill. He was taking care of it all before that."

Most of the reports were just short blurbs of intra-fleet communications that required oversight by a command-level officer. It was commonplace wireless traffic for the most part. A few had been marked by Gaeta as "Extra-attention CO" and Adama concentrated his time on those. Some serious engineering malfunctions had occurred on a passenger liner causing 2 decks to lose power, but the emergency had been resolved by the resident crew within an hour and the situation had been remedied. No casualties.

Another item that Gaeta marked looked commonplace enough, but it was flagged due to the commander's standing order; all wireless traffic to and from the Astral Queen was to be monitored by command-level personnel. As far as Commander Adama was concerned, the Astral Queen was under the control of a dangerous terrorist, and he insisted on keeping a close watch over all activity around that ship. The monitored traffic was innocuous however. A repair job on the Geminon Traveler was being reported to the Astral Queen as completed. Nothing unusual there. Tom Zarek often organized labor teams among the prisoners to assist with repair jobs throughout the fleet. The wireless contact only caught Adama's eye due to the late-night hour of the transmission. The message had been sent five days ago, shortly after 0100 hours. It was an odd hour of the day for a work detail, but equipment couldn't be counted on to only break down during regular business hours. Adama marked the message report as "Noted" and set it aside along with the other items that simply needed to be filed.

When midday rolled around he left the watch to Lt. Gaeta and headed for sickbay. He checked at the nurses' station for a quick update on Lee's progress. He was told that Lee was doing well, and though he had failed to keep breakfast down he was already in the process of trying again with lunch. He thanked the nurses and strolled down to look in on his son. Lee was sitting up with a food tray in front of him, eating cautiously. William grabbed a chair and pulled over it beside Lee's bed. "How's it going?" he asked.

"Tastes terrible," Lee said. "But so long as it only goes one way, I'm satisfied. They won't let me out of here until they can remove the IV."

"Makes sense," William said. "But don't be in such a rush Kiddo. You only came out of a coma yesterday."

Lee swallowed and gave his father a sardonic look. "You're trying to lecture me about relaxing in sickbay?"

William shrugged. "So, I wasn't a model patient."

Lee shook his head, smirking. "Cottle said you were the worst he's ever had."

"Always trying to excel," William replied. He couldn't help smiling. Lee looked so much better. His color had come back and his strength was obviously returning if he was sitting up and eating on his own. Was it really so recently ago that he'd sat there holding Lee's hand and praying that Lee would be able to breathe on his own again?

"Speaking of excelling," Lee said, scooping a spoonful of something that looked vaguely like potatoes. "How does it feel to be back in command?"

"Feels good," William replied. "It's nice waking up and not having to wonder, 'What the hell am I going to do with myself today?' The CIC crew had a nice little hand-off ceremony for me, though it would have been nice to have you there. A lot of people commented on that."

"It wasn't my idea to miss it," Lee said. He took another bite and chewed slowly.

William chose not to pursue Lee's comment. "We've also been receiving a lot of 'Get Well' wishes for you from the civilian ships. Dee is putting them into a folder for you. I'll bring it by later today."

At mention of the well-wishes from the fleet, Lee winced. Word had gotten out to the whole flipping fleet? All he said to his father however was, "Thanks." He nodded toward the table by the head of his bed. "See what the deck gang did?"

Adama looked and then reached over to pick up the metal sculpture. He laughed. "That's pretty darn good."

"Cally dropped it off this morning," Lee said.

"Cally, huh?"

Lee nodded. "It's from the whole deck crew." Lee didn't notice the amused look on his father's face. He said, "I guess the Chief doesn't quite hate me so much any more."

That comment surprised William. "When did he ever hate you?"

Lee offered a self-deprecating grin. "Well, it was my fault. I didn't make a very good first impression with him."

"Maybe not," William said. "But you saved his life on Kobol. People tend to find that kind of thing endearing. Just like Cally did on the Astral Queen."

Lee looked sideways at his father while he took another bite and saw the bemused look his father was giving him. Lee didn't comment.

Adama grinned silently. His son was so perceptive and eagle-eyed on some matters, but not where women were concerned. Lee really had no idea that Cally was smitten with him. Nope. Not any more than Lee realized that Kara was in love with him, William was certain.

"Has Kara been by today?" William asked.

"No," Lee answered. "But I've been hoping to see her. She's still furious with me, isn't she?"

"You know how Kara is," William said, placing the sculpted flowers back on the table. "The only emotions she isn't afraid to show are anger and sarcasm, so she disguises everything else as anger and sarcasm. She's not mad at you. She's worried about you. You gave her one heck of a scare."

"What about you?" Lee asked quietly. His eyes were turned down toward his food tray rather than up at his father.

"What about me?" William asked, resuming his seat by Lee's bed.

Lee turned his head toward his father. "Well... you're sitting here, talking to me... looking me in the eye. You haven't done that in weeks. Does this mean you don't hate me any more either?"

William sighed and removed his glasses, rubbing at the bridge of his nose. "Son, I have never hated you."

Lee shook his head doubtfully. "When Saul and I told you about the deal that we made to resolve the crisis with President Roslin and the Quorum... you hated me."

"I was angry," William countered. "But I never..."

"You couldn't even stand to be in the same room with me. You wouldn't look at me unless you absolutely had to. You sure as hell didn't want to talk to me."

William looked toward the ceiling for a moment. "Lee please... let's not do this now."

Lee dropped his spoon onto the food tray, frustration written across his face. "Right. Sorry. I let myself start to hope that maybe... just maybe now you might be willing to listen to me. My mistake. I should know better."

William looked back toward his son, but Lee was no longer looking at him. He could almost see that old barrier wall rising between them again. He tried to reach over that wall before the height grew too impassable. "Lee, I just don't want us to get into another sparring match while you're still so weak."

Lee shook his head frowning. "Don't want to push the loon over the edge. Is that it?" He faced his father again. "I'm a lot stronger than you think. I always have been."

"I've never thought you were a loon."

"You still think I tried to kill myself though, don't you?" When his father didn't answer, Lee nodded with a knowing smirk.

William slipped his glasses back on and leaned forward in the chair toward his son. "I am trying to bring a counselor on board. They'll become a full-time staff member for anyone who wants to schedule appointments. But my primary purpose will be to get you signed up for counseling as soon as possible."

Lee winced, his shoulders sagging. "I... didn't... do it," he stressed quietly.

"Son, whatever happened to you, I think it will help you to talk about it with a professional. Hell, after everything that's happened I should sign the entire crew up for psych evals."

"But me most of all," Lee said bitterly.

"Yes, you most of all," William confirmed sternly. "You're my son and I nearly lost you, possibly in part because... because I don't know how to talk to you. I want to help you Lee, but obviously I don't really know how to go about it, so I am trying to find someone who can."

"And if I don't want to get my head dissected?"

"Too bad," Adama declared. "Dr. Cottle can declare you physically fit for duty, but I will not allow you back on the job until you've been examined and also declared psychologically fit."

Lee looked challengingly at his father. "And if this shrink is convinced that I'm not suicidal, you'll accept that?"

William was thoughtful for a moment, but then he nodded. "Yes."

"You won't demand a second opinion? Or a third? Or however many it takes to find someone willing to go along with your preconceived conclusions?"

William replied, "I will abide by the doctor's evaluation. And I will require you to do the same. Regardless of how it happened, the fact is that five nights ago you almost died Lee. Something like that is going to have an effect on you and you can't just pretend otherwise."

"And you would apply that same criteria to anyone in a similar situation?"

"Yes I would," Adama said.

Lee raised a skeptical eyebrow. "What about yourself?"

Adama was caught off guard by that question.

Lee told him pointedly, "You just recently had a near-brush with death yourself Dad. Are you going to go through counseling and abide by the shrink's recommendation about you?"

A staring match ensued between father and son. Neither blinked. Neither looked away. Finally, without breaking eye contact William Adama said quietly, "All right. Yes, I will." He stood up and without further word to his son he walked away.

Lee stared after his father's retreating back, feeling anything but triumphant in their ongoing battle of wills. After a few more seconds, Lee grabbed for the paper bag beside his food tray and vomited up his lunch. He wiped his mouth and let his forehead rest in his hands for a few minutes. "Frak," he muttered.