Disclaimer: I don't own "Battlestar Galactica" or any of it's characters. But Ron Moore said that he didn't mind if people played with them. No money is being made off this work.

Summary: What goes on in Commander Adama's head at the end of the second season episode, "Home, part 1." SPOILER ALERT for all of S1 and S2. This story probably won't make any sense if you haven't seen the episode.

Author's Note: This story comes from some ideas of mine about Commander Adama's backstory, particularly as it relates to his relationship with Colonel Tigh, and Doc Cottle. And to why the Commander has had so many problems with other relationships. If you're curious ask. This story has not been betaed. Any mistakes are mine. (and thanks to kimbari for the grammer lesson!)

A Long Walk

By

DeeRich

Dualla says, "Children are separated from their parents!"

Anger, hot burning.

Anger that threatens to release the python coiled in my chest against Dee drives me to my feet. Anger that threatens to make me lose control drives me out of my quarters, and into the corridors of my ship. I head away from CIC, away from the core, away from any part of Galactica where someone might speak to me.

Images flash through my mind. A basestar. Vipers and Raiders dancing in the sky. Blackness and 'rain' around my cockpit. The Galactica. A hard combat landing. Faces: Trees, Lifehawk, Muffin, Rambler, Karaya, Tower.

The anger burns brighter, drives me down the corridor. I need to be alone. I need to get in my Viper, fly away into the dark, and blow some Cylons to Hades.

Forty years ago, that's exactly what I would have done. Channeling the anger, losing control. Cooling the rage.

But that time is gone.

Twenty years ago, I would have gotten drunk with Saul. Or started a fight. Or both. Releasing the anger, losing control. Checking the rage.

That time is gone as well. I no longer lose control.

Now, I drive myself down the corridor, push the anger down, lock it away. It moves into my chest and is consumed by the python. I am in control, but the rage has grown.

Rage.

Rage drives me on through the corridors of the Galactica.

More pictures in my mind's eye. Caroline, our home on Caprica, Zac, . . . Lee. Lee in handcuffs, giving me that "I-did-it-and-I'm-glad" look of his that has infuriated me since he was a little boy. Kara: smoking, laughing, fighting, hurt.

"I believed you. Believed in Earth." Kara jumping away in the Raider.

Laura Roslin's voice on the comm. "Let's save some time here, Commander. The question you really want to ask me is whether or not I asked Lt. Thrace to take the Raider to Caprica. And the answer to your question is yes."

Rage.

D's voice. "You let us down. You let us down. You made a promise to all of us... to find Earth, to find us a home. Together. It doesn't matter what the President did or even what Lee did, because every day that we remain apart is a day that you've broken your promise."

I stop. I'm deep in the bowels of my ship and alone. The corridors diverge in all directions. I look at each in turn.

The python in my chest is ready to strike, to burst free. My hands clench at my sides. The python pulls its coils tighter and rears back. My eyes drift down to my wounded left side.

"Sooner or later, the day comes when you can't hide from the things that you've done anymore."

Lt. Sharon Valerii with a pistol in her hand. Pain. Being driven back by an impact. Pain. The tactical table against my back. Saul's hands on my chest. Lee cradling my head, pleading.

D kneeling at my side, holding my hand. "It's time to heal the wounds, Commander."

I look up. I take a deep breath and nod. The python loosens its coils and lowers its head. I turn back the way I came. By the time I reach CIC, the rage is checked, and focused.

"Mr. Gaeta . . . "