Chapter 8

Starbuck took a deep breath of fresh air after she slipped her flight helmet off. The air on board Galactica was recycled countless time, but it always felt fresh and clear compared to the stifling environment that built up inside a flight suit after hours on patrol. She handed her helmet off to the crewman attending her ship and climbed out of her Viper.

"Cally," Starbuck called out to the young woman who was leading the team inspecting her Viper.

"Yes Sir?" Cally responded.

"That forward port maneuvering jet is getting twitchy again," Starbuck said crossly. "Can you make sure it actually gets fixed this time?"

"Will do Sir," Cally replied efficiently. Cally knew not to take any of Starbuck's grumblings personally. The lieutenant chewed everybody's asses these days. Hell, even in the old days before the war, Starbuck had never been free with a compliment. You only knew that everything was working when she didn't complain. And with these old Mark II Vipers, it was near to impossible to keep them fully functional. The ships were relics of a war long-over and they should have all been retired to museums decades ago. In fact, they actually were museum pieces that had been re-commissioned out of pure dire necessity. The fact that any of them were considered remotely flight-worthy was a proud testament to the exceptional skills of Cally and her crewmates.

Cally asked, "Any issues with the topside engine?"

Starbuck looked at her bird while pulling off her flight gloves. "No. Not this time."

Cally had known that would be the case. If there had been problems, Starbuck would have mentioned it. Still, Cally hadn't been able to resist fishing for compliments. None came. No surprise. The only pilot who had ever offered an unsolicited compliment to her or the deck crew was Apollo.

"Lieutenant? Will you be stopping by to visit with Captain Adama?" Cally asked.

Starbuck blinked. "I don't know," she said. "I have a lot of work to do." Starbuck shifted uncomfortably.

Cally was puzzled. "But I thought you two were friends."

"We are," Starbuck said defensively. "What's your point?"

"Well, I just figured that with the two of you being friends, that you'd drop in to visit with him."

"Whether I do or not, how is that your concern?"

Cally was taken aback by Starbuck's barely restrained hostility. "I just, um... I saw him yesterday morning, and he looked a little lonely."

"And?"

"And... he asked me to do him a favor. I thought that you would probably be going to see him, and you might be willing to let him know that I'm spreading the word, just like he asked me to."

Starbuck took a while to respond. Cally had visited with Lee, and Lee had asked her a favor? Starbuck felt another pang of guilt. She'd felt them a lot lately where Lee was concerned. But...

"Spreading the word about what?" she asked Cally.

"That it wasn't suicide," Cally replied. "It's weird isn't it? Most folks actually seem happier to find out that we have a murderer among us than to think that our CAG tried to kill himself."

"What?"

"I know it's strange," Cally said. "But... Captain Adama has been such a rock for everybody lately. And if he couldn't take it anymore... you know, what hope do the rest of us have?"

Starbuck shook her head incredulously. "Cally, wait... back up. You've been going around telling people that someone tried to kill Lee?"

Cally nodded. "Yeah."

"Why the frak would you do that?" Starbuck almost yelled.

"He asked me to," Cally replied, standing her ground. "He didn't want that silly suicide rumor to keep spreading and..."

"Rumor? Cally it wasn't a rumor," Starbuck declared.

"Fine," Cally shrugged. "We can call it a mistake then, but it wasn't true so..."

"Yes, Cally it is!" Starbuck rolled her eyes and paced in a circle. She reached over and grabbed Cally by the arm, hauling her toward the tool room. Inside the room, Starbuck did a quick spot check to confirm that they were alone, and then she closed the hatch.

"Cally, it was suicide," Kara told her. "Whatever the hell you're telling people... knock it off!"

Cally shook her head, amazed. "It wasn't suicide," she said stubbornly. "I'm not making this up or hearing it second-hand. Captain Adama told me himself."

Kara groaned in exasperation. "He doesn't know what he's saying."

Cally crossed her arms defiantly. "He looked pretty damn sane to me."

"I'm not saying he's crazy."

"Then what are you saying?"

"He's in denial."

Cally pondered for a few moments, then shook her head. "I don't think so. I believe him. And I can't understand why you don't. I thought you were his friend."

"I am his friend," Kara said darkly.

"Then why can't you trust him?"

Kara let out a long breath. "Cally... I was with him that night... practically right up until he did it. He wasn't himself. The truth is, he hasn't been himself in a long time. I've known Lee for many years now. But ever since I got back from Caprica, he's been a different person."

"So what?" Cally challenged. "How could he be the same person after all that's happened? You haven't just shrugged off your experiences on Caprica, have you? How could expect Apollo to disregard everything that happened here? With the fleet, with his father... with you. Or did you just think that you were the only one who's had a rough time lately?"

"Of course not," Starbuck grumbled. "I know he's been through a lot."

"Yes," Cally agreed. "He has. But one thing that has never changed about him through all of it... is his integrity. Above anybody else in this fleet, he is a man of honor and I would trust my life to that. He's never lied before and he's not lying now."

Kara studied Cally's defiant face carefully. She had long suspected that the young specialist was sweet on Lee. Now Kara was certain of it. In a much gentler tone than before, Kara said, "Cally, I'm not saying that Lee is lying. I'm saying that he doesn't remember what the truth is."

"Neither do you," Cally said quietly, but sharply. "You didn't see it. What makes you a better judge of what happened than him? At least he really does know what's going on in his own mind. And how can you call yourself his friend when you're not even willing to give him the benefit of the doubt?"

Kara just stared back at Cally, silently.

"I believe him," Cally declared, then turned her back on Starbuck and left the lieutenant standing by herself in the tool room.

Kara stood motionless for a long time, then she solemnly trudged back toward officers' quarters. With every step, the voices of debate swirled around in her head.

Cally is right.

No, Lee is sick and he needs help.

He was tired.

He wanted to die.

He just wanted a nap.

He wanted death! He gave away all of his money, for crying out loud.

Money is worthless.

Lee would have fought an attacker, but Frosty and Stinger were right there in the room. They didn't hear a thing.

Maybe he didn't have time to fight back?

He had time. Not long, but time enough to make a noise. They would have heard.

What if they did?

Kara was brought up short by that thought. Her pulse quickened even as her hand reached for the handle to the hatch at her quarters.

What if they did? What if they did?

As soon as she yanked the hatch open her mouth went dry. Frosty was in there, suiting up for his turn in the cockpit. Kara plastered on her best triad face and stepped inside, pulling open buckles and zippers to remove her flight suit. "Hey Frosty," she greeted him calmly.

"Hey Buck," he replied with a polite nod. "Quiet CAP?"

"Yup," she said, pulling open her locker door. She positioned the door so that she could observe Frosty behind her in the mirror. "Not a peep out there. Hey Frosty... you know I don't think I ever thanked you... for your help the other night."

The big pilot shrugged, slipping one thick arm into a sleeve. "Hey it was no big deal," he said.

"You're wrong," Kara told him. "Just another few minutes and Lee... Apollo would have been brain dead."

"Yeah," Frosty said quietly. "Scary thought huh? But Stinger was the one who did CPR. I just handled the heavy lifting."

"Yeah," Kara said. She remembered what Colonel Tigh had said about Lee just the day before. "Apollo's no lightweight," she said to Frosty. "He's a lot heavier than he looks, isn't he?"

"Sure is," Frosty agreed.

"Yeah, I could never have lifted him by myself."

"It's a job for two, no doubt."

"Good thing there were two people here, huh?"

"Right."

"Yeah. Good thing that you and Stinger were here... instead of being back in the rec room with the rest of the squadron."

"Well, you know how cranky Stinger is if he doesn't get at least 6 hours of beauty sleep. A ten-hour CAP with a cranky Stinger is not a fun way to spend the morning."

"I just wish... I wish one of you had seen or heard something though."

"Yeah," Frosty sighed. "So do I."

"Seems funny doesn't it? Apollo went ahead with it, with the two of you so close by... knowing that if you saw anything, you'd stop him." Kara watched Frosty intently in the mirror. He didn't show any reaction. He just finished zipping up his flight suit. "But," Kara said, "I guess the way the two of you were snoring, he could probably have danced a jig on the table without fear of waking you up."

Frosty let out a sudden, deep belly laugh. "Now there is a mental image I would never have come up with on my own."

"Hey," Kara claimed, "Apollo's actually got some pretty good moves... once you get him drunk enough."

Frosty grinned at Kara and cocked his head. "And... how would you know?"

She shrugged, returning the grin. "Apollo and I go way back. I've seen him in some very compromising situations."

Frosty smirked. "Are we talking about the same Apollo? Sounds like a totally different person to me."

Kara's eyes drifted from Frosty in the mirror to the photograph she had taped just below. In the picture, she was standing, hugging Zak, with Lee beside them holding a Pyramid ball in his hands. It had been an afternoon of fun and games at the academy while Lee was on break from War College. Years had passed since then. No, it was a lifetime. "Yeah," she told Frosty sadly, "he's changed a lot."

Frosty appeared thoughtful. "I guess that's what happens when everything around you goes to hell and the weight of the whole world gets dumped on your shoulders. You either harden up to carry the load... or you break."

Kara stared at Lee's face in the photograph. "Some loads just can't be carried alone."

"Yeah, maybe not." Frosty gave Kara a wave. "Gotta go Bucko."

Kara gave her pilot a thumbs-up. "Be careful out there."

When Frosty had passed through the hatch and closed it behind him, Kara slumped down onto her bunk and dropped her head into her hands. "Get a grip Kara," she growled to herself. "Sergeant Hadrian already interviewed both Frosty and Stinger and found nothing suspicious. Besides, you know Frosty. He eats Cylons for lunch but he's as loyal as a lapdog. He would never have hurt Lee."

Sharon shot the Commander.

Kara abruptly shoved herself back to her feet and grabbed her shower kit and towel out of her locker. She slammed the door shut, silencing the battling voices in her head by pure determination. Before she left the room however, her eyes caught on Lee's empty rack... where she had found Lee dead.

He killed himself.

They killed him.

"Shut up!" she snarled at the whispers that were trying to gain her attention once more, and she stormed from the room.

Commander Adama read through the list of the doctor's qualifications then looked at her over the top edge of his clipboard. "You were a marine?" he asked dubiously.

"That's right," she confirmed. "Retired as a master sergeant after 20 years of service."

Adama looked at the woman. He just couldn't imagine it. Dr. Edith Marsh looked like his grandmother. She was silver-haired, slender, and had a kindly smile that accentuated her bright green eyes. She looked like she had spent her life baking cookies and telling bedtime stories. "And... you've served on a battlestar before?"

"Yes, Commander. Four years on board the Pegasus," she replied in a tone of voice that sounded more accustomed to singing lullabies than barking orders to marines.

Adama couldn't manage to mask his skepticism. "Under whose command? Cain?" If Dr. Marsh was embellishing her resume with fantasies, the name of Commander Garris Cain would be the most likely one she would try to drop. However, William Adama had known Garris Cain personally, and Cain, like Adama, had not reached the rank of Commander until long after the First Cylon War.

Dr. Marsh rolled her eyes. "Cain? Oh Gods no. Back then Cain was still popping his zits and having wet dreams. Commander Derrick Collins was in charge for the first 18 months. He was killed in action and replaced by Commander Karen Monmouth."

Adama stared at the sweet-looking little old lady, scarcely believing she had just casually spoken about "Bulldog" Cain's wet dreams. "And um, after you retired from the military, you went into private practice."

"Part time," she confirmed. "My time was split between private practice and a staff position at Delphi University Medical Center."

"Until you retired... 5 years ago?"

"Yes."

Adama put down the clipboard and leaned forward with his arms on his desk. "And why are you interested now in coming out of retirement?"

"Because my quilting circle got blown to hell a few months ago," she replied with a completely straight face.

Adama stared at the woman, having no idea what to think of her.

After several seconds, Dr. Marsh broke into a smile and laughed. "Seriously Commander, I know what you're thinking. This is a military vessel. A warship. My patients here would be tough-ass soldiers. We are at war. This is the most dangerous ship in the fleet to reside on. And I don't look tough enough to handle any of it. Well frak that notion, Sunshine. I'm up to it. I was dodging Cylon bullets before you were, and I have no illusions whatsoever about the realities of war and how terrible it can be. I've seen firsthand what it does to people, physically and mentally. I did this job for 45 years, military and civilian, and I know damn well it's not pretty. Why would I want to come back to it? Because it's the only way I can fight back. You don't know what it's like to be caught in the midst of a combat zone and not be able to fight, or to be able to actively support the people who do. I know it's dangerous here, but it's not like I really have anything left to lose and I know that I can do some good for your people. If I can help keep your people going, then they can keep giving those fraking Cylons bloody hell."

Commander Adama's face broke into a broad grin. He stood up from his chair and extended his hand. "Dr. Marsh, welcome to the Galactica." The ship's new resident psychiatrist stood up and shook the commander's hand. They both resumed their seats. "How soon will you be ready to begin work?"

"I have a few suitcases to retrieve from the Rising Star, but I can get started whenever you need me. Anybody in particular you'd like me to start with?"

"Actually yes," the commander said. "You have... 2 patients already awaiting your expertise."

"And who are these unfortunates?"

"Me and my son."

The doctor's face registered surprise. "Really? Well this job could be more fun than I thought," she teased.

"In all seriousness Doctor, I am very worried about my son. There are undoubtedly dozens of people on this ship who would do well to receive some counseling, but Lee is the only one I'm requiring it for at this time."

"Yet, you also mentioned yourself."

"I agreed to do it in order to make the whole process a little more palatable for my son."

"I see. And why is he being pushed to the top of the patient roster?"

"He attempted suicide 6 days ago." The doctor nodded solemnly at the news. The commander added, "Unfortunately, he doesn't remember doing it, and is in a full-blown state of denial about it."

"What's his physical condition?" she inquired.

"He's still in sickbay for the time being, but our ship's physician, Dr. Cottle, has determined that there was no permanent damage done. Physically, he should be fine in just a few more days. Dr. Cottle is also assuming that Lee's memory loss is not physical in nature."

"Is his memory loss limited to the suicide attempt alone?"

"It appears to be, yes."

Dr. Marsh nodded. "Dr. Cottle is probably right then, but I'd like to double-check his test results. What was your son's... method of choice?"

"A Red Needle," Adama said solemnly. "That's what we call the...

The doctor waved off the commander's explanation. "I know all about them Commander," she said, reminding him of her own military service. "Your son is very fortunate to have survived."

"He was found by a friend within just a few minutes, but it was a very close call just the same."

The doctor nodded her understanding. "I have many more questions, of course, but I'd like to at least acquire a notebook of some sort to keep track of the details before we go any further."

"Of course." Adama nodded, standing up from his chair. "Is there anything else that we can provide for you?"

"A portable voice recorder, if you have one."

"We can take care of that."

"And... a private office with adequate interview space."

"Not a problem."

Commander Adama made introductions in sickbay the very next morning. "Doctor Marsh, this is my son, Captain Lee Adama. Lee, this is Doctor Edith Marsh. Dr. Marsh is our new ship's counselor. Her resume is quite impressive, including a 20-year term of service in the Marine Corps."

Lee nodded politely and extended his hand to the doctor. "So you're the one who will be evaluating me and determining whether I should be returned to service or placed in a straight-jacket?"

"That's right," she confirmed with a sweet grandmotherly smile while shaking Lee's hand. "So don't frak with me Junior." Lee's eyes bugged a bit from surprise but he made no comment.

The elder Adama bit back his grin over the look on Lee's face. "As soon as Doctor Cottle feels you are up to it, you'll be meeting with Dr. Marsh every day for at least a week. At the end of that week, she will report her recommendation to me as to whether or not she feels you are fit for duty. That is my requirement as your commander. If she determines that you require additional counseling, you will be required to comply with her recommendation. If you're cleared for duty you can always continue seeing the doctor as appropriate, but that will be strictly between you and Dr. Marsh."

Lee nodded and regarded the doctor. "So, I have one week to convince you that I'm not a nutcase."

Dr. Marsh smiled at her patient. "If you're a nutcase it won't take a week for me to figure it out. But that's a different issue. What we need to determine is whether or not you could be a danger to yourself if placed back into potential combat status."

Lee raised an eyebrow. "Will I ram the enemy instead of shoot, you mean?" His eyes shifted to fix upon his father's face. "I never tried to before." The commander just returned his son's gaze with a stoic expression.

"Glad to hear it," Dr. Marsh replied. She sat down in a chair beside Lee's bed and took a notebook from her briefcase. "Thank you Commander," she said. "I think we can take it from here." William Adama nodded then regarded his son silently for a few seconds before turning and walking away. The doctor's eyes flicked back and forth between father and son as she slipped a small voice recorder from her briefcase and fiddled with the controls.

"Have you two been butting heads for long?" Dr. Marsh asked Lee.

"Since the dawn of time," Lee sighed.

She nodded and placed the recorder on Lee's bed tray. "Do you mind? It helps cut down on the scribbling."

Lee shook his head. "No, I don't mind. But you still have a notepad."

"That's for the extras that the voice recorder can't catch."

"I see," Lee muttered. He sighed tiredly. "Doctor Marsh, before we go picking my brain apart over unresolved childhood issues, can I be blunt with you?"

"Always," she said sternly. "I'll expect nothing less."

"All right." Lee scooted a bit more upright in bed. "I have primarily one goal in mind while talking to you: to convince you that I am not suicidal, so that you can convince my father. Unfortunately the only way that I think I'm going to accomplish that is to remember what happened that night. Until I can point a finger at the person who tried to kill me, I'm afraid everyone will just keep pointing fingers right back at me. So... what can you do to help me remember?"

"Well, there are some steps we can take to try to stimulate your memory. Have you ever undergone hypnosis?"

"No," Lee said. "And to be honest, I'm pretty skeptical about it."

Dr. Marsh smiled. "Relax Lee. Do you mind if I call you Lee?

"No, I don't mind."

"Well, don't worry Lee. I'm not going to claim that hypnosis is the magic cure-all that some claim it to be. The fact is that a person can not be hypnotized without their consent, and some people simply can't be hypnotized at all. Even in a state of hypnosis, people can not be compelled to do things against their will. So you don't need to worry that I'll have you running through the ship in your skivvies squawking like a chicken just for my own amusement."

Lee laughed lightly. "Glad to hear that." This little old lady was a pleasant surprise to him. He'd feared that he would be drilled about his dreams and unfulfilled sexual fantasies by some trollish-looking man with no sense of humor. This psych eval might not turn out to be quite so much of an ordeal after all.

Dr. Marsh told him, "If you're still not comfortable with the idea of hypnosis, we can try to recreate the environment of the event."

"Return to the scene of the crime?"

"Exactly. Memories can be triggered by visual stimuli, sounds, and even smells."

Lee looked down at the IV tube still connected to his hand. "Unfortunately I don't know how soon they'll let me out of here."

"Are you able to eat solid foods?"

Lee grimaced. "I can eat it. It just doesn't stay down."

"Been up for a walk yet?"

"A short one yesterday, just around the bay here."

"Did it tire you out?" Lee didn't answer. He just looked sheepish. "That's a yes. First things first Lee."

Lee let his head fall back against the pillows. Frustration was written across his face. "Why can't I remember?"

"Well, the simplistic answer is that you don't want to yet."

"Yes, I do."

"Subconsciously you don't. It's what is referred to as psychogenic or hysterical amnesia."

Lee grimaced. "Hysterical?"

Marsh smiled sympathetically. "It's just the terminology. Essentially, you have experienced a traumatic event that your mind is having difficulty dealing with. The good news is that you can probably expect to see at least some memory returning soon."

Lee perked up. "How soon?"

"Memories usually start to return within just a few days. It can happen slowly in bits and pieces, or it could all come back quite suddenly. It's also possible that your memory of the event could remain incomplete."

"For how long?"

"Permanently."

Lee winced. "Great."

"It all depends upon you I'm afraid. Everybody's different. Some folks just bounce back easier than others, but it also depends greatly on just how emotionally traumatic the event was... and how able you are to fully accept the truth. It's a defense mechanism. You're trying to protect yourself."

"From the truth?"

"From the pain," Dr. Marsh said gently.

Lee considered what she'd said. "Then... isn't that an indicator right there that this wasn't suicide? If I wanted it to happen... why would I be defending myself from remembering?"

Dr. Marsh nodded thoughtfully. "That's a good question."

"And why now?" Lee asked. "What I mean is... there have been a lot of things happening lately that maybe I wouldn't mind forgetting about. But I can't. Surely this can't have been worse than living through the annihilation of 99 percent of the human population... or watching my father get gunned down in front of me by someone I trusted and was responsible for."

"It could be the cumulative effect," Dr. Marsh told him. "You're still coming to terms with those other events, still trying to deal with them... and then one more thing happens. Your mind might just be saying, 'Enough already!'"

Lee rubbed at his forehead. "So I have to deal with everything else before my mind will let me deal with this?"

"Not necessarily," she replied, scribbling a few notes. "As the perceived shock or danger of the events becomes more remote, your memories could return regardless of what other issues you may still be dealing with. Of course, it certainly won't do you any harm to work on coming to terms with those other issues as well."

Lee observed the doctor and saw her making notations in the notebook. "I just gave you a few items for our agenda, didn't I?"

Dr. Mash smiled at Lee and gave him a wink. "Smart boy."

A patient in a bed across the aisle began coughing roughly and one of the nurses hurried over to check on him. Lee looked around, suddenly very cognizant that there were many other people in the vicinity. "Can't we do this somewhere more private?"

"We will," she told him. "This was just the meet-and-greet. Your father is providing me with an office. As soon as Doctor Cottle approves it, we'll talk there."

"So this doesn't count as session number one?"

"Nope. You got a freebie." Sensing that Lee wasn't comfortable continuing their conversation at the present time, she began gathering her things. "I'm going to drop in and have a chat with Dr. Cottle about you. Was there anything else you wanted to ask... or be blunt about?"

Lee was thoughtful, but then eyed the grandmotherly doctor mischievously. "Have you ever made anyone squawk like a chicken?"

With her face deadpan, she replied, "Only during sex."

Lee cracked up laughing and offered her his hand again. "It was nice meeting you Doctor."

She shook his hand, breaking into a smile. "I'll see you soon Lee," she said.