Author's Note: Again, this is a short one. I meant for it to be longer, but I've had a lot going on these last few weeks (my horse was hit by a car), and I don't want to keep you waiting any more. Thank you for your patience, and I promise I will try to work faster.

Some things cannot be put to words. We all know that. It is an understanding we reach as a matter of course, as we are mortal, and feeling, and knowing creatures. Some…understandings…some core matters of being, cannot be expressed with such clumsy human contrivances. But knowing that it cannot, should not be done, does not lessen the human desire to do so, to transfer somehow to another the full force of our existence.

So Lee Adama stood, as men do, on the freedom side of another, more tangible human contrivance: the cage in which Sharon Valeri was kept. He stood just inside the hatch, actually, having stopped so suddenly that Starbuck, Landin, and Shields pulled up in surprise and turned to see what was wrong. Lee did not move, any more than he acknowledged their inquiring glances.

Now, one would think that it is not possible for the human mind to flat line without actually being dead, for a person's thoughts to be filled with absolutely nothing of any cognitive substance. Certainly Lee Adama had thought so, until he found himself frozen there in such a heightened state of extreme minima his brain failed for an instant to tell his heart to beat, and his lungs to fill. There was, perhaps, a faint echo, a stirring of…something. But it was fleeting, and illusive in the way of echoes. In any case, Lee Adama could not have appeared more blank and out of himself if he had tried.

The mind of Sharon Valeri, conversely, was abuzz with one or two word stingers ricocheting off the walls of her conscious. Alive. Found out. Killed him. Kill me. Daniel. How? God… There was confusion, fear, a burst of panicked apprehension, then Sharon felt nothing at all.

The others, standing impudently by, watching, were no more certain of what was happening than they were of how to respond. Kara's eyes flitted from on to the other, from cylon to man, startled by the immediate stasis in which she found herself. This had not how she had expected this meeting to go. This was not how any of them would have expected this meeting to go. With a palpable unease, she edged closer to Lee. He remained utterly unaware of her. Landin clearing his throat awkwardly was the only break in the tense silence. Starbuck's hand on Lee's elbow (placed there more firmly, and therefore more painfully, than she had intended) startled him out his reverie. As he shook out of his stupor, she thought she saw something desperate behind his glazed eyes, as if he was trying hard to explain, to reach her with something he had no words for.

Sharon, too, had returned to herself. She made her way to the handset with such eager temerity someone just walking in would not have believed she had been struck dumb and motionless only an instant before. Landin and Shields stepped back against the bulkhead, preferring to watch the exchange rather than be a part of it. For her part, Starbuck stayed close to Lee as he moved to the handset on his side of the wall. She was only peripherally aware of Sharon's amazed eyes seeking hers, since her greater concern was how totally unaware Lee seemed to be of either of them. He was moving like a man possessed.

"It's good to see you Captain," Sharon strained.

"It's good to be seen," he replied. Because that is what men say. "I didn't know you sang."

And she had been. Singing that is, when they first came in. No one else had any cause to know it, but it was Sharon's gentle song, murmured unthinkingly to the child within her, that had jerked Lee up so inexplicably. To Sharon, as to the rest of them, it had been nothing; it had been a nonsense song of nonsense words punctuated by periods of meaningless humming and da dee das. Because it had been nothing to her then, it was nothing to her now. She skipped over Lee's comment as if it had never been.

"They told me you were dying." Spontaneous bruising, hemorrhaging from the eyes, heightened sensitivity to light, touch, sound… "I didn't expect to see you…" Ever again.

"I was. I'm not now."

Starbuck stepped in. She did not understand what exactly was going on with Lee just then, any more than she had understood what had been going on with him from the moment she found slick and thrashing in his rack…or, rather, for the last ten weeks or so. Kara Thrace was not one who could stand easily by and not know what was going on, and since Lee seemed only half-interested anyway, she took the handset from him and swept him aside. He gave under her hand like a hospital curtain.

"What about that Sharon? Helo said you agreed that he was probably sick because of what happened on Caprica."

"It makes sense. Unless you can think of some other reason."

"I can't. Can you think of what might make him sick like this?"

"I don't… some kind of virus maybe."

"Lee's not a computer," Kara scoffed.

"There are other kinds of viruses," Sharon bit back. "Just because we're 'machines' doesn't mean that's all we know how to work with."

"So you're saying it was a biological weapon of some kind?"

"I'm not saying anything one way or another. I don't know what made him sick, I didn't see him while he was sick. I'm just saying that's one possibly explanation."

"And this miraculous recovery?"

"Look I don't know alright!" she barked, more harshly than she had intended. "I don't understand why you're asking me. I'm locked up, under guard, twenty-four hours, every day. I don't know what you think I could possibly know."

But Starbuck persisted, unrelenting. "Do you know. Of any cylon weapons. Chemical, biological, whatever. That could have made Lee sick?"

Sometimes, not often, but sometimes, Sharon was grateful for her programming. She was grateful, in as much as she was able to be so, for the mechanisms built into her that allowed her to, for the sake of her lover, for the sake of her daughter, look into the face, the eyes, of Kara Thrace, and lie.

"No."

"She's lying."

Kara stripped angrily out of her uniform, ignoring Geminon's antics as the pup wrestled around in her cast off clothing. She was scheduled in the slots in half an hour, and needed to change into her flight gear. Not that she was thrilled about it. She had seriously considered trading rotations with someone, so that she could stay with Lee. After this afternoon she was more worried about him than ever, though his physical condition seemed about as stable as anyone could…never have expected.

"Lee?"

"Hmm?"

"She's lying."

"Yeah."

Lee lay on his rack exactly as he had fallen into it, staring at the underside of the rack above him and absently stroking Caprica's head. He made no move to shift into a more comfortable position, or even take off his boots.

"And you're not listening." She paused for a moment in her dressing to glare accusingly, and ineffectually, at him. "Lee."

This time there was no response at all. Lee had allowed his eyes to slip closed, but she did not think he was sleeping. Half-dressed, she drifted across the room almost without realizing she had moved, and lowered herself onto the edge of his bed. Aware as she was that his nerves were still blazing, she brushed his brow as lightly as possible, checking for fever. When she said his name again she did so more softly. Perhaps it was the tone, or perhaps it was the genuine concern and anxiety in her voice, that reached him. Regardless, he opened his eyes.

"I'll stay if you want me to. Palladino's offered to take my place in the slots." It was not an offer she usually would have made, any more than it was one Palladino would have made. It was not an offer he usually would have considered either. But she made it anyway, and he considered it. At least, he did not dismiss it out of hand, which seemed to her to be the same thing. The silence stretched on. "Seriously Lee. You ok?"

"Have you ever…" He stopped, pushing himself up on his side, propped on his elbow. He seemed to consider her more deeply than anyone had in a long time, and she shifted slightly under his scrutiny. How any man could go so quickly from in all ways unseeing to all seeing was beyond her. "Have you ever had a dream that felt so real… Or, you know how dreams can't be real. It never even occurs to you that its real because it…just can't be. Then one day you find yourself seeing a place or meeting a person or hearing a song and you remember it. Maybe you hardly thought of it before but you remember it like you were there."

"Lee what are you talking about?"

"Earlier. That song Sharon was singing when we went to see her. I've heard it before."

Starbuck, in hearing that tune, had interpreted it exactly as Sharon had in singing it, and she had no idea how to respond.

Fortunately, she didn't have to.

"And I think you're right Kara," he said distantly, rolling onto his back again. "I think Sharon's lying."

Daniel was annoyed. It is likely this follows without needing to be said, but it is said here nevertheless. It is said here because Daniel had nowhere to say it. He could not grumble, or rant, or even look upset in the company of his enemies, and his enemies were all around him.

Two days had now passed since he had seen the dead man walking - that was the only way he knew how to think of it. Apollo, who by rights should have been well on his way to being reduced to a screaming puddle of mush, had been up and walking and talking in a decidedly scream-free timbre. So Daniel was forced to carry on his little charade, to go to his lessons with the other nuggets, to eat and sleep among them, to play their games, to laugh at their jokes. He did so seamlessly, flawlessly, and carelessly, all the while trying to determine what had gone wrong, and how to set it right.

He had no notion of the time; they had been rousted from their bunks somewhere near the start of the Midwatch, but time had blurred since then. With Starbuck, Hotdog, and Chief breathing down their necks, the nuggets and green deck hands were being put through their paces. The idea was to wake unexpectedly, as if the call to action stations had been made while they were all peacefully sleeping, suit up and be in the tubes in the shortest possible time. At the other end of the hanger, the alert pilots and more seasoned deck hands were chuckling and chatting amongst themselves, enjoying the unexpected entertainment on their graveyard shift. The instructors seemed to be enjoying themselves too. Daniel, on the other hand, who had launched half a dozen times already and performed as many combat landings, was more than tempted to wipe the smug smiles off their faces.

"Mick! Sit the hell down. Quinn! Everett! Pick it up, we don't have all day!"

"Day?" Quinn grumbled. "What the frak's she talking about? Day."

"Cut the chatter!"

Daniel was getting a break this time; only a few nuggets were being launched every turn. He sat with some of the others off to one side, watching the circus and enjoying the break. Or, rather, enjoying it as much as anyone in his position could be expected to.

"Ames!" the Chief snapped. "Watch that line! I want those helmets checked and the canopies secure in one minute! Let's go!"

Daniel resisted the urge to claw at his arm. The blasphemous patch stitched onto his suit all but burned a hole through to his skin. He had some very specific ideas about what he would do to whoever it was had come with this idea, to call their little band of apprentice fliers the Pythian Squadron. Some had said it was to honor the failing president. Others claimed it was their CAG, Apollo, that the nuggets venerated. In either case it was idolatry, in which Daniel had to feign overwhelming pride. If he had had an actual python devouring its tail, instead of an embroidered one, he would have yanked the tail out of its mouth and set it on the whole bunch of them.

"Ok people! Let's get this deck ready for returning fighters! Move move move!"

Apollo appeared then, on the catwalk above them. He had the dog with him – Caprica, they called that one. Daniel had seen a lot of the dogs, though only ever from afar; he had kept his distance after that first day, when Sharon had seemed to put off by them. It made no sense to him, having animals on a warship. If nothing else they were consuming what limited rations the humans had. That's why we'll win. Sentimental fools.

Starbuck glanced up to take note of Apollo's presence there, but didn't say anything. He did not interfere with them either, but only stood and watched with a kind of detachment Daniel would not have expected of him. He could not explain why he wouldn't have expected it, but it seemed strange to him that Lee Adama was the sort of man who could stand apart and watch something like this. Clearly he had much to learn about the man. That annoyed him all the more; he had not expected to have any need to learn anything about Apollo at all.

The combat landings were beginning, and Daniel was trying to be interested in how they proceeded, when something caught his eye. The motion, caught fleetingly and peripherally, was in the direction of the catwalk. It was the dog. It had wandered from Apollo side and slunk cautiously down the walk, until it stood directly in line with Daniel. In fact it was Daniel that seemed to be the object of its interest; with its head lowered and bobbing a bit from side to side, it stared fixedly at him. Its tail was tucked down, its hackles raised. Daniel tried to look away and ignore it, but he was as much fascinated by the animal as it seemed to be by him. It shifted its weight, pacing a few feet in one direction, then back the other way, but always watching him intently.

Having no experience with animals in general, let alone dogs in particular, Daniel was not sure how to respond. More than that, he did not understand why he should be so certain that, if he were to move, it would chase him. Perhaps it was the understanding one predator has of another. He remembered the dog, the young male, that had accosted them in Sharon's holding area…

Sharon had behaved strangely, he recalled suddenly. She had pressed herself against the glass, as if she was trying to get closer to Daniel. Why would she have done that? What possible reason could there have been, other than to leave the humans with the impression that the dog was growling at her, rather than him. And why would she care who they thought the dog was growling at? Was it possible that Sharon believed…

Daniel looked more closely at the dog on the catwalk, and was struck with the idea that, if he were within earshot of the creature, he would hear it growling. Though he was sitting with several other men and women, it never once crossed his mind that the dog was fixated on anyone else. Was it possible? Could the presence of these animals on Galactica be more than foolish sentiment?

The Vipers were being drawn back onto the deck, and soon Daniel's turn would come again. He would have to leap up and sprint for his Viper, and he was sure that if he did that dog would be on him. It was a certainty that reached his very bones. The dog itself did not frighten him; it was a juvenile, still small, and could not seriously hurt him. But if he was right, if the humans were somehow training these dogs to identify cylons, he would then have a whole hanger full of them to fear.

Demonstrating that fate is not without a sense of irony, it was Starbuck who saved him.

"Alright nuggets, that's enough. Go get some sleep. You have tactical maneuvers this afternoon."

As a group they made their way for the hatch. Daniel imagined that the dog had lost him in the crowd, but he did not look back to be sure.