Saul Tigh stood on the port side landing deck, and found himself wishing for a drink for at least the 10th time in the last 15 minutes. He thought longingly of his small flask of ambrosia - the one he'd forgotten in his quarters earlier in the rush to CIC. He could almost taste the drink - and the oblivion that would follow.
He needed it. Frak, after today they would all need it. The Hephaestus was gone - telemetry had confirmed that five minutes ago. The explosion from the power core rupturing - and dispersing of various sizes pieces of the Hephaestus towards the other ships in the fleet - had jarred even the Galactica's inertial dampeners. It had been pure blind luck that Gaeta had been able to pick up the radar as quickly as he had after the explosion - to find the shuttle's signature on the map and no indications of ships being hit by debris.
It was amazing what a small bit of vacuum inside a superheated Tylium core could accomplish.
There weren't any communications either. The EMP from the core rupture had knocked out intership communication for the moment. By the time they would get it back, the shuttle would be on final approach. In the meantime, all Saul could do was stand and wait. And wonder just how bad this whole frakking mess would turn out to be.
The shit always slid uphill. It was one of the things he liked about being XO. Even when things dissolved to hell in the proverbial hearthholder, it'd never been his problem to deal with. Will had always been the one wanting the responsibility, needing that opportunity to shine. Saul had been perfectly content to stand in the shadows, letting them consume him over time. It was abundantly clear who the better had been.
Listening to comm chatter over the speaker, Saul rubbed his eyes wearily. Why the frak had he ever volunteered to let the Old Man stay in sickbay, anyhow? He was the one with the talent of handling these frakking messes. Saul? Shadows. Content.
Preferably with a bottle of ambrosia that had been aged at least 30 years.
"Sir?"
Tigh turned around to come face-to-face with one of the deck hands. A young girl whose name he could never remember. Sally? Molly? He shook his head. Never could remember the details.
"Yes, specialist?" When all failed, go with the rank.
She took it in stride, and nodded toward the hangar dock.
"The shuttle's coming in, Sir. Still no communications, but Captain Kelley wanted me to tell you everything's gone smoothly so far." She gestured at a crowd of people gathered a short distance away. "He wanted to make sure you didn't ..." She paused, blushing a little. "Well, he wanted you to come over into the personnel area, just to be safe. Since you're not normally down here."
Like he didn't know to stay out of the way? Hell, he'd been the one holding the Old Man back earlier. Damn. Without Will here, he still didn't get any respect. Probably thought he'd been drinking the whole duration of the emergency. And he really couldn't blame them, as much as he wanted to.
Instead, he just nodded.
"Can't have any new casalities. Might as well lead the way."
He followed her over to where the rest of the deck hands were gathered. They were the only people there. Most of the wounded were over on the port landing deck, along with about half the medical staff, all of the refugees and as much security as they could spare. This new batch would go straight over there as well.
There was a shift in the pressure around him, and Saul looked up to see the landing platform descending. He tensed, waiting for it to slowly settle into place. This would be all, the last group off of the damned ship. He didn't even dare hope that it included any of their missing personnel.
He could only wonder what new shadows would breed to eat away from him now.
OxOxOxOxOxO
Even as the shuttle settled softly onto the deck, Kara was already struggling wearily to her feet. Frak her, but she could barely find the energy for it at the moment. What wasn't numb just plain hurt, and frankly, the pain was starting to override the numbness rather quickly. Her right leg didn't want to stay under her - the shooting pain in her ankle probably had something to do with it - and she couldn't do anything with her left hand. It just hurt too damned much.
An arm slid behind her back, and Kara found herself lifted gently to her feet. She turned her head to see...Gods, what was his name again? At this point, she considered herself lucky that she remembered he even had a name.
So she just smiled at the kid instead. He hadn't left her side since they'd gotten onto the shuttle. It should've been annoying the frak out of her. But until she found Lee and the Old Man, an eager, fresh-faced ensign would do quite nicely.
Well, nicely enough, anyhow. Though it might be interesting to see the look on Lee's face when she walked in with the ensign. It'd give that stick up his ass a nice twist, which he probably needed after a day like today.
A weary smile crossed her face, and for the first time all day, Kara felt passably good. Not great, by any stretch of the imagination, but definitely a far cry from dead. Even if every muscle in her body ached and her back was gouged to hell.
"Here we go, Lieutenant. Time to go." The ensign's voice jolted her out of her reverie, and she jerked her head around to look at him. Instantly, she regretted it. There were some parts of her body that just weren't worth moving right now. Or maybe not ever again. Yeah, she could definitely cast a vote against moving again.
But the damned ensign -- Lindman, was it? -- was moving her towards the frakking ramp at a slow but insistent pace. She limped forward, keeping most of her weight on her left side. Her young companion -- who at second glance, still had the telltale signs of acne on his chin. The grin widened on her face just a little bit. Oh, yeah, she would definitely have a little fun with her beloved CAG later.
Right now, she was just damned happy to be back home. The familiar bright lights on the deck, the deck crew, the smell of oil and heat in the air ... she let all of it envelope her and wrap around her like a blanket. It did more to push away the horror of the last few hours than almost any amount of human comfort would.
She'd taken just a few steps when a familiar craggy voice greeted her.
"Starbuck?"
Kara turned around to see the familiar, unwelcome face of Colonel Tigh. The smile started to slip away before she realized that even home had its less savory side. Home was home, even if it did mean alcoholic bastards who were too self-absorbed with themselves.
She almost started to chuckle before she comprehended the look on his face. When it sunk in, she felt her good leg go weak beneath her.
My Gods, he's happy to see me. What the hell? And where the hell were the Old Man and Lee?
She was saved by Tyrol, who stepped between them and began talking immediately.
"Sir, she's the last person we got off, but she needs to get down to sickbay." The chief's words barely cute through the fog in her brain. She had about a million questions she needed to ask, and more than a few bits of information to relay. "We think she broke her wrist, and we have no idea about any other internal injuries. Can you debrief her later?"
Kara glared.
"Chief, I'm fine. I should--"
"You should do what the man says and get your ass down to medical, Lieutenant. And that's an order." Tigh's face faded into his normal, smartass smirk. "And don't think I won't toss your ass in the brig."
When he finished, Tyrol got one arm around her back and under her good arm, flanking her on the opposite side of the ensign. Before she could even voice another protest, they maneuvered her towards the hatch -- and the causeway she knew would take them to sickbay.
She sighed, and let them do most of the work. She'd start firing all her guns -- but after she found a soft bed and a few painkillers.
OxOxOxOxOxO
William Adama swallowed back the bitter taste of bile, the coffee the president had scrounged up working its way back up his throat. It hadn't even tasted good when he swallowed it, burning an acid trail down into his stomach the entire way.
He'd gulped the rest of the cup, welcoming the pain. It made things easier to take.
She's gone. Accept it. But his mind couldn't quite process the information. Just as he couldn't process Lee's death aboard Colonial One 10 days ago -- and everything else that had happened today.
How many more are we going to lose? How many more will I have to bury?
He didn't have the answers, and right now, it hurt too much to search for them. Later, he would read the reports, and ask questions. He would put fear of the wrath of the Gods in people, and get the information he needed to prevent this from happening again.
It's begun to sink in, the back of his brain nagged. It's becoming real, finally. The immediate crisis over, he could begin to think about the future.
Somehow, it looked like one hell of a more difficult task than it had 48 hours earlier.
There was a sudden commotion out in the main entrance. Bone weary, William Adama pushed himself away from Cottle's desk and to his feet. Squaring his shoulders, he walked over to the doorway, freeing his sidearm as he went.
One step out of the door, he was almost knocked from his feet. Adama caught the briefest flash of orange and the familiar face of his deck chief, and then bounced off the railing of the nearest bed as he stumbled.
When his head came back up, he came face-to-face with another familiar face, this one surrounded by blonde hair and covered with more dirt and blood than he would ever have thought imaginable.
And for a second, even though he rarely dreamed and even less frequently questioned his sanity, he wondered if he had fallen asleep or lost his mind.
OxOxOxOxOxO
Somehow, Kara hadn't really anticipated the quiet she saw as they got near sickbay. She'd expected wounded in the halls, frantic voices, too many people and even less order.
But when the Chief opened the door for her, she was shocked by the quiet and relative peace -- at least in comparison to everything she'd endured in the past few hours.
She looked around and then fixed her eyes on Tyrol.
"Where the frak's the fire, Chief? We just blew up a ship, right?"
He nodded, and waved a hand.
"Only the most critical are here. We're triaging the rest down in the hangar bay. We figured you should be here, given everything else--"
Kara whipped up her hand in a gesture to stop.
"Give me a frakkin break, Chief. I'm not critical, and I sure as hell--"
Ensign Lindman cut her off this time.
"Begging your pardon, ma'am--"
Okay, now he was getting frakkin' annoying. Kara turned, hoping to go right back out the door before one of the medics or nurses saw her. But Tyrol pulled her toward an empty chair, while Lindman pushed her from the other side.
"Oh, for frak's sake--"
Then the three of them collided with something -- no, someone. Her vision went gray for a moment, and everything spun dizzily as she tried to regain her balance. She had a vague impression of someone else stumbling in front of her, but she had to close her eyes to keep from falling over.
Before she could even figure out what had happened, she found herself in a vise-like grip, pulled tight to someone's chest in as unyielding a hug as she'd ever felt.
She thought it was Lee until she heard the voice in her ear.
"My Gods...Starbuck." The Old Man, who was damned glad to see her by the way he held onto her. She let herself relax against him, and tried to hug back with her right arm.
"Sir, I'm not...at least, not if you let me breathe." A Starbuck wisecrack, and a good one at that. The commander pulled back, and she got a good look at his face - wet from tears and unbelievably tired. Even her joke seemed to have fallen mostly flat.
Then it clicked. The Old Man. In sickbay, but not injured himself. No Lee, and Tyrol's "everything else."
She looked up at the commander, her own face starting to crumple even then.
"Where's Lee?"
He then gave her a look so gentle that Kara felt almost as if she'd been slapped. And when he started to explain, every last one of her defenses finally crumpled. Her whole body started to sag, and Kara would have slid to the floor if the Old Man hadn't stopped talking and caught her in his arms.
The warmth and the comfort there were too much. Turning against his chest, Kara began to sob.
OxOxOxOxOxO
Voices.
Lee could catch fragments, but nothing more. He didn't want to listen, he didn't even want to acknowledge they were there. He was blessedly numb, and something vaguely disquieting told him he was better off that way. He felt like he was floating through a warm fog, and he didn't want to leave. The darkness appealed, for beyond it was something he didn't want to confront.
It slipped slowly away, and for a little while, everything receded into a blessed void. He felt safe there, knew instinctively that he was safe, and there was no rush to go back.
But slowly, the warmth began to disappear, and in its place, Lee began coming back to himself. A light buzz in his ears, and he could almost see light. Light he really wished wasn't there. He didn't want to see it yet, because everything else that returned with it nagged at him, pulled at him, until he realized what it was he was fleeing from.
Pain. It began as a prickling sensation, slipping past his defenses and through his chest, where it grew from a vague sensation into an intensifying discomfort. It spread quickly, going from one central point in his core out to his shoulder, and then down into arms to his hands and finally his fingertips.
Involuntarily, his hands tightened suddenly, and he tried to moan. When he couldn't find his voice, the fog began to rapidly dissipate, and as it did, he realized he could not make a sound, nor could he draw a breath. His chest rose and fell of its own accord, and he had no control over it at all.
Lee's eyes flew open to find bright light, and then he screwed them shut again as his whole body tense and he started to panic.
Then suddenly, a hand slipped into his own, and squeezed tightly. Another settled onto his shoulder, a warm, comforting anchor to the world as a voice filtered through the haze. It mumbled, sounding like he was listening through a wall. All he could do was shake his head, but when he did, something tugged at his mouth and another something pulled on his chest. For a moment, everything froze in crystal clarity as the pain flared and then suddenly fell silent again.
The grip on his shoulder tightened, and this time, he heard words. Calm, settled, as if from a distance.
"Easy, son. Easy." It sounded...it sounded like his father. His voice, but not his words. He had offered strength before, but never comfort. It couldn't be him. But the hand remained as another voice filtered in.
"Captain, I need you to stay calm for me. You're on a ventilator, and there's a tube down your throat to help you breathe. We're going to let you breathe on your own in just a minute. Squeeze my hand if you understand me."
Almost unconsciously, Lee tightened his grip on the bodiless hand. He needed to breathe, just to know he still existed. Suddenly, he wanted consciousness back, and he clung to it tenaciously.
And as he did, there was a sudden deflating inside his chest, and an utter lack of air. He felt flat and empty, dead. But before he could even respond, the voice spoke again.
"Take a breath, Captain. It shouldn't be too hard."
Without needing a second prompt, Lee sucked in air around whatever was in his mouth, feeling it in his chest now, and felt his lungs expand. There was more pain -- this time, deeper and more thorough, almost burning with the oxygen he pulled in -- but it was worth it. He exhaled, and then rapidly drew in another breath, and exhaled again. He could breathe. He was alive.
The grip in his hand slipped away, but the hand on his shoulder remained. He didn't want that human touch to leave. It anchored him as he drew more air into his chest, the sensation feeling almost wondrous to him.
"That's good. Everything's fine, Captain. I'm going to pull the tube now, and put a mask over your face. Just breathe normally, and this will be over in only a minute."
Before he could argue, there was a tugging sensation against his mouth again, and the sense of being disconnected from the world. With a slow, steady slide, whatever was in his throat was being removed. His chest spasmed and he coughed involuntarily, his whole body tensing up as this weird, strange moment stretched into eternity.
Then it was over. Something cool was placed over his face, and there was another rush as a stream of moist warm air flowed over his face. He sucked at it greedily, and he heard a soft chuckle. Then he heard another, this one close to his ear where the voice had been a minute before.
"Easy. It's not going anywhere."
It was his father's voice, he knew that for certain now. But was it real? Was any of this real? Before he could turn towards it and open his eyes for confirmation, a wave of exhaustion hit him, so suddenly that he couldn't even fight the floating sensation that began to carry him away.
He wanted to stay, dammit...he couldn't...he had just come back...
"Tired...don't go..." Lee forced the words out, trying to hang on to the rapidly disappearing world around him. As fiercely as he had fought before for the numbness, he didn't want to go back now. He wanted to know if that was his father offering his hand, his balance and his love.
But he couldn't open his eyes to confirm it. As the unconsciousness came up upon him again, though, that voice came back one final time. And those words stuck with him as the fog enveloped him and pulled him back into the endless darkness.
"I'm not leaving. I promise."