The new Commander of Air Group on the Galactica yawned slightly, and wondered whether anyone could find him a cup of coffee - or even an ounce's worth of excitement.

Leaning back against his pillow, Lee let out a soft sigh. Hell, even he'd concede they'd all had far too much excitement in the last three days. He'd settle for a break from the printouts and alerts from CIC that his father had brought him to keep him busy when Cottle refused to release him yet.

He'd have to thank him for that later. Somehow he suspected even the Great Commander Adama - especially the Great Adama - knew paperwork wasn't enough to keep him from going stir crazy. But he had taken the time to bring down updates and talk several times a day.

To be honest, Lee had guessed the reports were just an excuse for the talks. And he could live with that.

"I see keeping busy isn't all it's cracked up to be."

Lee's eyes flew open to find his father at the foot of his bed, holding a shapeless lump of cloth. Lee cracked half a smile before responding.

"Yes, sir." Lee couldn't help it when the half-smile turned into a grin, surprised at how easily it happened. "Paperwork's a bitch. Sir."

His father responded with a soft guffaw, and threw the brown pile of cloth onto the bed.

"Put that on."

Lee grabbed at it as his father turned around to pull the curtain open. Unfolding the lump, he realized it was a bathrobe of thick, warm material - a far cry from the sickbay gear he'd been residing in while the medical staff watched him slowly walk the length of the room and back. He didn't mind the exercise half as much as Kara making wisecracks about how little the thin regulation robe covered.

Lee fingered the material, and then slipped into it with a grateful sigh of relief - and not a little wonder. He looked up at his father expectantly.

"Does this mean they're letting me out of here?"

His father turned back around, pushing a wheelchair up to the side of the bed. A telling smile was on his face.

"No...but Cottle thinks you could use a change of scenery."

OxOxOxOxOxO

William Adama pushed the chair slowly down the corridors, taking the least occupied route to his destination. Too much had happened over the past few days for his son to enjoy even any small sense of privacy. So rather than risk running into any of the pilots or crew members, he decided to take the longer of two possible routes.

It gave him the opportunity to talk to his son - not to mention avoid a set of stairs and a lot of bumps in the road.

"For what it's worth, Cottle says another couple of days." From where he stood behind his son, Adama couldn't see Lee's reaction, but he could imagine a large smile - if everything he'd heard was correct. "He also said you're making Kara look like an exemplary patient."

Lee snorted softly.

"In spite of what she might claim, there is no way to enjoy a sponge bath." Adama looked down to see Lee shoot him a look of exasperation, and then grow serious. "Define a few more days."

Adama smiled. Lee was most definitely his son - at least in the sense that life in sickbay shouldn't be tolerated.

"End of the week at the most." He saw Lee's shoulders sag, and he couldn't fault the reaction. Still...that Lee would walk out of sickbay in less than a week's time could be considered a minor medical miracle. Everything - from the incisions to the fused bones to the surgically-repaired lung - had healed smoothly with no complications. Cottle had even started working with Lee on the rehab therapy already.

But it would still be a while before his son got back in the air. All in all, not something a confirmed fighter pilot would willingly accept, and William dreaded telling his son how long he would be grounded.

"Relax, Captain." After a moment's hesitation, he slipped a hand onto his son's shoulder and squeezed it. "Starbuck's not letting any of the rooks near your plane.

"At least, not yet."

OxOxOxOxOxO

Kara looked at her chronometer and sighed. She'd been told to report here for a briefing, but no one had bothered to inform her who else would be coming. But she'd been able to guess at least part of the audience when the order told her to go to conference room D - two hatchways and a long hallway from sickbay.

So, when she walked in and found Tigh sitting there instead of the Old Man and his son, her day had taken an immediate downward turn. She'd grabbed a chair and collapsed in it, and picked a spot on the ceiling to start counting the panels.

So far, it had effectively killed any attempt at conversation the XO might have tried. Adama might have been happy to see her - and Tigh happy as a matter of friendship with the Old Man. But a few days of relief after a few years of antagonism didn't make her willing to exchange small talk with the old drunk.

Even if he had pulled her off the duty schedule so she could serve as a liaison between sickbay and CIC. Lee had practically demanded something to do, and until they sorted out who would temporarily fill the CAG spot,

A loud clunk sounded at the edge of the hatchway, and Kara's gaze came down to find Adama standing in the doorway - trying to maneuver a wheelchair with Lee resting in it over the raised edge. Immediately, Starbuck felt her face grow wide with a grin.

"Well, if it isn't the Great Lee Adama." Her nose twitched with a little laughter. "I see you traded your Viper in for a set of wheels."

Lee snorted.

"Cute, Kara. Very cute." Lee's eyes twinkled, and he cracked a grin of his own. "And I hear you have a new love interest."

Kara's stomach sank. He would not stoop that low. He just wouldn't.

"A certain crew member from the Hephaestus?"

Or maybe he would. Kara narrowed her eyes before replying.

"Don't. Go. There." She then heaved a sigh and rolled her eyes in response. "Lords save me from 16-year-old ensigns with acne."

"He's 18." Lee chuckled. "I asked Captain Moore for his crew bio yesterday."

Kara was about to spout off something highly inappropriate and laced with language she'd picked up from the deck crew when the commander cleared his throat.

"If you two are finished, we have a few things to discuss." Whether or not they were done, the Old Man's tone left absolutely no room for argument. Kara tossed Lee a grin as Adama pushed Lee's wheelchair up to the table.

When the chair brakes were set, Kara leaned forward and whispered in Lee's ear.

"It's good to have you back, Lee. But this better mean you're taking your paperwork back."

OxOxOxOxOxO

Will let Kara and his son settle back in, ignoring the glacial looks he was receiving from Tigh. Whatever other purpose it may have served, the banter lightened the atmosphere. It had been far too dark for his liking lately, and maybe a little bit of humor was just what they all needed.

Especially in light of everything he had to cover here. Will settled down into his chair, and three sets of eyes attentively turned to him.

"First, a few quick matters of business." He knew this bit of news would go over well. "Starbuck, Doc Cottle cleared you for return to flight status this morning. He said the bone fusion on your wrist is complete, and everything else checks out."

Kara gave him a much-expected grin.

"Free at last!" She also snorted softly. "One more smartass remark from the rooks and I may have had to hit someone."

Adama raised an eyebrow, but didn't comment. Starbuck threatening the rooks had been commonplace for as long as she'd been on board. He moved onto the next item.

"Cottle also told me this morning that he'll likely release Captain Adama in the next 48 hours, barring any setbacks." Lee knew as much, but his father hadn't gotten to the next part yet. He favored his son with a sympathetic look. "It'll be about a month until he's back on the flight schedule, though. There's too much risk with the collapsed lung and the surgical incisions to push matters."

Lee nodded and gave a small shrug, but didn't say anything. He didn't need to. William could read the disappointment clearly enough, and wondered if he'd be any better about being grounded than Kara had ever been. Somehow, he doubted it.

The easy business finished, Will pulled out a printout he'd grabbed from CIC before going to pick up his son. He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose before going on.

"These are the final numbers from the Hephaestus. Of the 135 people on board, 106 were safely evacuated to the Galactica. We are in the process of interviewing the survivors. " He looked up to smile at Lee. "Without your orders to put the military in charge of the evacuation, Captain, we would have lost half the evacuation time in bureaucracy. And a lot more lives."

Lee nodded, looking self-conscious at the compliment. It didn't get any better when Starbuck and Tigh added their compliments to Adama's own. He waited until they were done, though, and then slipped off his glasses. He had their full attention now, and what was coming demanded it.

"What I am about to share has not been in any of the public reports." Tigh nodded; he had seen the information Adama had in front of him. "As of this point, there are three people who know everything I am about to share - Tigh, Chief Tyrol and myself. It will not go beyond this room. Am I clear?"

Lee and Kara exchanged a somber, confused look, and then nodded in turn. William nodded back.

"Of the 29 people who were lost, three of them were crew members on the main bridge of the Hephaestus. Unable to find a clear escape route to the hangar bay, they stayed on the bridge and began downloading what they could from the computer's memory banks. Among the data we received were all communications from the last 24 hours."

Adama swallowed. What he was about to say did not come easily for him - nor did its implications.

"I personally sent a crew manifest for this mission over to the captain of the Hephaestus approximately 12 hours before the inspection crew left for the ship."

Adama handed a piece of paper to Tigh. After staring at it for a minute, the XO read what sat before him.

"Crew members Adama, Valerii, Tyrol." He stopped, and then looked at Kara. "That's right, you'd switched with her that morning, right?"

Kara nodded, but absently, her eyes locked on Lee. He reached for the paper, and read it over silently.

"I don't think that's my father's point." Lee rubbed at his eyes a moment, and then looked at his father. "There's no first names or rank."

"That's correct." Adama's voice was now deadly soft. His anger and guilt fought for dominance over his emotions. Who were they aiming for? "I had hoped..." He swallowed hard, fighting his own regrets. "I thought the threat of my presence might make a difference. The civilian captains haven't been happy since the Galactica took charge of the fleet."

Saul, who had been silent for the most part, scoffed loudly.

"That's the understatement of the frakking year."

Adama shot Saul a look, but didn't say a word. His gaze fell back on his son, who looked sadly at him, and then closed his eyes.

"You think it was an assassination attempt." Lee's voice had sunk to almost a whisper. "And that Starbuck and I got caught in the middle."

"Or that someone decided that any member of the Adama family would suffice. Either way, it's a pretty good bet that one of us was the target." William wanted some way to erase that conclusion, but there wasn't one. He and Saul had looked over the statements from the survivors, and the bare testimony Tyrol and Kara had been able to provide. Everything pointed to it being a bomb, and it being manually triggered when the inspection crew had gotten into the hangar area.

Where you have a bomb, you have a statement. Saul's words the day of the bombing, and his own thought. The question remained, though - what was the statement?

And how many would die before they discovered what it was? Across from him, Lee had opened his eyes again, studying his father's reaction. He could see the questions that his son - no, his Commander of Air Group - had. He could see the confusion and bitterness over the circumstances, but also the emotion of this sudden, awkward bond the two had forged. William didn't question its authenticity, but instead its price.

But he didn't see blame this time. Lee's piercing gaze evaluated him, but it didn't cast aspersion. The malice and the hatred he had come to expect were gone.

After a moment, Lee pushed the paper back across the table to his father, giving one nod in a sort of informal confirmation of what William might have been thinking. He watched as his son squared his shoulders back in the chair, and then spoke.

"What do we do?" Lee's quiet voice radiated calm, but his eyes showed that he already knew what the answer would be. They could double security, search all the ships, question personnel.

But we won't know anything until they try again.

Finis -- January 23, 2004 to September 22, 2005

((Author's notes to follow in a separate piece. There are too many people that deserve a nod after a year and two-thirds.))