In our last episode, Lee finally decided to take his head out of his rear and search the Hanger Bay for what he really wanted.

Meanwhile, at that same moment, Kara ruminates over THAT night...

RUNAWAY BRIDE(GROOM): Pt 4

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

When Kara was a little girl, her father used to call her his "Little Hurricane", because she always seemed to be in constant motion, usually leaving a mess her wake–school books, crayon drawings, broken pencils, jackets, hair ribbons, the occasional broken vase. Often times, when her father sketched her, she would be bouncing in her seat, and would be puzzled when she saw the result. "Daddy, why does my picture look so blurry?" "Because", he would reply, gently stroking her cheek, "I can't keep up with you. You're going too fast, even when you're sitting down."

When Kara Thrace became a grown woman, she was still like a hurricane, still constantly in motion. Flying, frakking, fighting, whatever she could do to keep her demons at bay. But now the messes she left behind were more devastating...

Gods, why? Why do I always do this? Why do I always act without thinking? If Tyrol hadn't already left Galactica with Cally, she would have raided his still in the tool room and drunk herself to oblivion. She had to settle instead for kneeling in a deserted side corridor near the Hanger Bay, crying her eyes out, with no alcohol to dull the sickening pain in her heart. Dark, cramped spaces that weren't Viper cockpits or pilot bunks were generally unappealing (Mom used to lock her up in the hallway closet after breaking her fingers), but she hadn't been able to hold the tears any longer. The relative blackness soothed her as did the cold metal deck under her knees. When she had calmed down enough, she leaned her back against the wall, sprawling her legs in front of her, listening to the steady hum of the ship (I forgot how much I miss that sound). For the first time in...Gods know how long...she had sat down long enough to think clearly.

There were the three people, the Adama men, who had come close to making her slow down enough to think. Warm, fun-loving Zak, who took it upon himself to break down her defenses and open her heart to something more than a one night stand. Next, came the Admiral, who, in spite of being her commanding officer, took the time to draw her out of her "Starbuck" facade, becoming a surrogate father to her in the process. And then there was Lee...

Lee was the scariest one, because he was the one...the only one that could completely crumble her defenses with just one look, one touch. It took Zak almost a year to break her down–it took Lee only a second, the moment she first met him at the Academy, from the moment he had unsmilingly shook her hand at their first simulator battle together. She had expected to wipe the floor with him, but was pleasantly shocked at how well-matched they were in battle. When it was done, they'd crawled out of their respective cockpits, drenched with sweat and shook each other's hand, grinning from ear to ear. At that moment, the air between them had heated up with a sexual tension like nothing either had known before. However, as strong as their mutual attraction was, they both had been emotionally unprepared for it, and ended up joking it away. Lee had suggested they grab a beer at the campus pub, and she agreed. The rest was history...

Bad history, actually. True, there were lots of good times-- the two of them hanging around Zak, their misadventures in the local bar scene, jogging with him down Galactica's corridors, nailing him with the spray from a garden hose on Cloud Nine came to mind. However, over time, when he had begun to reach out to her as more than a friend, that's when things had started to go wrong. Unable to cope with the feelings he stirred, Hurricane Kara began to whip out again, throwing debris in his path. Whoosh! I killed your brother. Slap! I slept with Baltar instead of you. Ding! I became obsessed with a rebel leader. Pow! I shot you. Blam! I tried to frak you in the bunkroom, and was thinking of another man. Whap! I made with out Sam in front of you. And then came the killing blow.

It was about three nights before her wedding day, when the remaining female pilots aboard Galactica had burst into her office and demanded she come with them to the rec room, where her surprise bachelorette party was underway. At the start, it was a hoot, with lots of drinking (compliments of the Chief, who had brewed a special batch of bootleg for the occasion), stupid party games ("Find a male specialist in the mess hall and ask him to give you his skivvies"), and dancing. They had even stuck an impromptu red veil on her head, complete with plastic flowers and miniature replicas of the male anatomy pinned up and down the material. After a few hours, though, the fun had begun to wear off, and an edge of panic had started to creep in, though she hid it for a while with her customary Starbuck brashness. It got worse as the other women teased her about her "Last Night of Freedom", and about how her husband-to-be was a hunk, almost as handsome as the former C.A.G. ("Come to think of it, they kind of look alike!"). Finally, it had gotten to the point where she was so tense she felt ready to punch someone in the face, but the appearance of Hot Dog and a squadron of male party-crashers provided enough of a distraction for her to slip away. Somehow, she had stumbled her way to the guest quarters where she pounded on a hatch door, until a half-asleep Lee–who had stayed on board after a meeting and a late dinner with his father-- opened it up. Because their friendship had been strained after her engagement, she almost didn't think he would let her in, but the sight of Kara Thrace in a cheesy red veil with penises all over had him holding his sides laughing (he had so little to laugh about these days), and soon, she with him. All that tension between them had, for the moment had vanished, and they were friends again. He cracked a couple of jokes at her expense, before inviting her in for a nightcap.

She had entered that room intending to just to talk to him, to tell him how scared she really was at the prospect of spending the rest of her life with Sam, to admit to him that she missed him–Lee–and their friendship. But, as the old saying went, "The road to Tartarus is paved with good intentions..." One moment, they were talking about the good old days, and the next they were tearing each other's clothes off, showering each other with passionate, bruising kisses. At one point, Lee had stopped what he was doing, poised on top of her, and looked into her eyes. "Kara, if we do this, you're mine. I love you, and I can't share you with anybody else anymore. If you walk out that door and back to him, I'll never speak to you again. Understand?" She must have said yes, because the rest of that night he had set out to prove how much he had wanted her. The sensations of that aborted frak months before were nothing compared to the inferno that had enveloped them both.

The next day, Hurricane Kara left the bunkroom...and nothing was ever the same between them. She'd been torn between her love for her best friend and her guilt over Sam. Guilt had won.

And now she was divorced, alone, and living on a miserable craphole of a rock with nothing to do but survive another day. She needed something else to live for, something to keep from falling into the pit of despair. She sniffled a bit, wiping her nose on her sleeve, and started thinking of her options. A week ago, Roslin had found out about her talent as an artist, and had offered her a position as an art teacher. She knew that showing rug-rats how to finger-paint wouldn't be a permanent solution, but it would be a start. Still, there would be the cold, lonely nights, when all she would have for company would be her heartache, and the memories of those she had hurt. She wouldn't think much about Sam, though. He's surviving quite nicely with his pregnant girlfriend. After all they had been through, after the sacrifices she had made–breaking with Lee, dropping her career as a pilot to live with him on New Caprica–she still hadn't been enough for him. So when she'd found her husband in bed with an adoring pyramid groupie, it had been too much for her. Her aggressive demands for a divorce weren't driven by his infidelity, but by the fact that her feelings of guilt over him had costed her everything she held dear.

She sighed. I gotta get back home. Well, it wasn't really home, but neither was Galactica anymore. It had been a mistake to come back...to try to reach out to Lee. As usual, she'd said too much, and he had just stood there, cold as ice, not saying a word. She'd ran out of the wardroom and past Helo like a bat out of hell, unable to breathe, choking on her tears.

Enough of this crap! On your feet, soldier! She slowly stood up and looked at her watch. Shuttle should be leaving in a couple of minutes. She began to walk towards the light the end of the corridor, feeling numbed to the bone.

She was only a few meters away from the doorof the Hanger Bay, when someone grabbed her left arm and forcefully yanked her back. Acting on instinct, she threw a right hook at her assailant, feeling a jolt up her arm as her fist made contact.

The man in dress uniform rubbed his jaw, grinning, a drop of blood beading on the side of his mouth.

"That's my girl."

TBC