Disclaimer: I own nothing and no one in BSG and am not profiting from them (well, maybe from the mental image of Lee's towel almost dropping off...but nothing else, I swear!). Comments welcome.

When we last saw our hero, Lee had gotten his head together, and was marching towards what he thinks is his destiny. He is, however marching the wrong way...

RUNAWAY BRIDE(GROOM): PT 3

What should have happened on Lee & Dee's wedding day...

Focus on what you want! Focus on what you want!

Back at the Academy, Starbuck (damn the bitch!) used to tease him about how he would repeat things to himself, especially during mock missions. He didn't remember how he got into the habit (his father claimed he did it even as a little boy), but he found that it helped him to concentrate. If his nerves started to get the best of him during an attack run, or when a problem in War College was starting to frustrate him, running a mantra through his head cleared it of all the unwanted junk, and focused it on the goal. Right now his goal was to make it through the wedding with his dignity intact.

Focus on what you want! Focus on what you want! Focus on what you want!

His eye caught the nearest hatch number. Strange, I'm a long way from the observation deck...That's when he realized that he was going the wrong way.

He could have sworn that he'd turned left instead of right. Must be nerves. Focus on what you want! He didn't want to be here, he wanted to get the ceremony over with so he could get on with his life. Focus on what you want! He tried to picture the wedding in his head. He was walking down the aisle, perfectly composed (in spite of the bruise. I'll just say I ran into the hatch and banged my head–nerves again!). A few moments later, she would glide towards him dressed in a traditional wedding outfit–a white dress with a knee-length, flaming-red veil-- looking soft and demure. His father would say a few words of wisdom before asking them to repeat after him. He would say his vows without stumbling, and so would she. He would place the ring on her finger, and she would place one on his. He would then lift the fiery veil off her face, brush a wisp of blond hair from her lips, look into her green eyes and kiss her soft, luscious lips...

Gods! Kara again! This is not good! Focus on what you want!

Unfortunately, what he wanted was Kara. In spite of everything, his mind, body and soul was screaming for Kara. Hells! While his mind wanted to do right by Ana, his own traitorous feet were taking him towards the elevators, which led to the lower levels of Galactica, which in turn led to the Hanger Bay.

"Wait a minute!" He stopped in his tracks, trying to turn around and walk the other way, but his legs felt like lead, as if the Lorey Gravity Field had been turned up a few notches. You are not going to run after Kara! Let her go back to that hole they call New Caprica. She deserves to be alone after what she's done to you! She given you nothing but pain...constant, lingering, soul-sucking... delicious pain...He moaned and covered his face with his hands. Gods! I'm such a sick puppy. Unable to move forward or back, started to feel panicky. All he wanted to do was sit in the middle of the floor and pull his knees to his chest, like he used to as a kid when his parents fought like cats and dogs.

That does it! I'm an adult, and an officer of the Colonial Fleet to boot, not an eight year-old child! I've made tougher decisions under worse circumstances. I've been dealing with Cylons, washout pilots, prison riots, terrorists, homicidal and corrupt commanding officers, getting shot at, seeing my father getting shot at, deciding who lives or dies in a fight–I can do this! I can choose Ana. It's not hard. Tactically, it's the best choice. A stable, honest, loyal...not afraid to speak up her mind...even if it's in front of everybody in CIC...even when you lose face...

A couple of months ago, he had been going over details of supply requisitions to and from New Caprica with his father, Tigh and the other remaining officers of the Pegasus and Galactica, when Dee expressed concerns about loaning vital communication equipment to the settlers. It would have been fine, if he had said "I appreciate your input, Dualla", and if she had accepted it. However she became insistent, yammering over and over again that the remaining fleet needed that equipment more than subsistence farmers and ex-pyramid players (I wonder why she mentioned pyramid players?). It wasn't what she said that made him cringe, it was the way she said it, almost like she was a schoolteacher lecturing a particularly dense student. He had said something to placate her, which made everybody at the table give each other glances. I didn't put her in her place there and then because I wanted to do it in private. Unfortunately, he'd put off the discussion that night when they'd had an argument over something else, and she had burst out in tears. After that, it seemed she felt at liberty to take digs at him, here and there. First over requisitions and other assorted business, and then over to more personal, such as "Ensign So-and So didn't get the report done because she dislikes me" and "Why don't you respect my opinions!". All he had wanted to do was to have a smooth-sailing, functional relationship with someone, so he tried to please her more, like spending more time with her instead of at the gym (no more sexy sparring, that's for sure). Little by little, he felt dragged down by the tediousness of his existence. When had proposed to her, she had accepted with such unexpected enthusiasm (and energetic sex) that it had caught him off guard, because he had assumed she was as bored with him as he was with her.

All the fire, all the spice of life was gone. They had all gone out when Kara Thrace got married and ran away. And then she came back. Dad had invited her to the wedding without his knowing it ("I had assumed..."), so when Ana started nagging him about how Kara's presence would ruin their special day, he hadn't known what to think. One part of him was still filled with vile, black anger at the thought of her being there, as if nothing had happened; and the other was filled with breathless anticipation. Then, when Kara walked into the wardroom, he felt as if the fire was relit from within. Outwardly, though, he'd been cool and polite, even managing a bit of small talk. She had said that, being her longtime friend, she'd only come to wish him good luck in person before leaving on the next shuttle back ("I don't think your fiancé would appreciate me being there."). For the next ten minutes or so, everything went fine, until he made the mistake of asking the question. "So, how's your husband?" From then on, things went downhill, as she told him the short version how "Starbuck frakked it up again", how the passion of their courtship hadn't translated well into the day-to-day effort of marriage–resulting in an acrimonious divorce, which had been finalized in the recent weeks. Her words were calm and collected, but her eyes told of her desperation, her longing to have him back in her life again. He'd been so stunned by her announcement he had just stared at her, unable to say anything. She'd taken his silence as rejection, so she tearfully wished him and Ana a good life and ran out the hatch, almost taking out a surprised-looking Helo along the way.

He opened he eyes, seeing that he was only a few meters away from the elevators.

Although a good student, he'd never had his father's love of poetry. But the one phrase that had stuck in his head through the years was a line from "The Fall of Icarus":

"It is useless to dissuade me, Father,

For I long for Phoebus' eternal Kiss.

If I burn, I will burn with all my heart and soul.

What do the cold-hearted know of such passion?"

As if on cue, the nearest elevator door opened. He walked in.

Time to burn...

TBC