SUMMARY: Kara on her return to the Fleet.

NOTE: This is set in early season 3. I have some assumptions in regards to the plotline, but there are no actual spoilers are contatined in this story.

Many thanks to Dangermousie for the beta. For Greycoupon for her birthday.

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After she got back from New Caprica and once she was fit enough to be released from the tender care of Doc Cottle, Kara cut her hair, found a flight suit that fit, and Starbuck was back in a Viper.

There were nuggets to train, Cylons to kill, and triad games to win. Well that was the plan. What she had not counted on were the pitying looks from people and the way everyone treated her; as if she were fragile and would break down sobbing at any moment. Yeah, like that was going to happen...

It was getting on her nerves. Even people who should have known better were doing it. Helo kept asking her if there was anything she needed. Yes, for him to stop asking her that stupid question.

She was fine.

The only thing she did regret in all this was Sam. He had sat by her bed all that time in sickbay, just waiting for her to wake up, holding her hand. Sam, who looked at her with sad pitying eyes, and who just could not simply understand. That was what disappointed her the most. Sam should have understood.

You fight because that is what you do.

Leoben was dead, the planet far away, and she just wanted to get on with her job and kill the motherfrakkers.

The Old Man understood, but then he always did. The big surprise was Tigh, which considering their mutual history was enough to make her laugh hysterically. Of course, that would probably not be a great idea at the present time. People were already concerned enough about her mental stability without her cackling insanely in the corridors. Cottle had suggested she might like to visit the Fleet's last remaining shrink. She elected to ignore him and stick with the healing powers of Triad and the Chief's stash.

Tigh turned up at the bar in the starboard hanger bay, simply handed her another bottle, and sat there with her. They did not say much but it was enough. The old bastard understood.

There were things that had to be done and they did them. You play the hand you are dealt. There is no folding or bluffing when the stakes are that high. Both of them had paid their dues in that Cylon cage and she looked at him with a new found respect.

And then there was Lee...

He was back as CAG and back in "superior asshole" mode. His terseness on the flight deck was a relief. The world might be over but the one thing you could always guarantee is that Lee Adama could hold a grudge. It was one of the few things she could count on.

Lee knew her better than anyone on the ship, better than Helo, better than her husband, better than even the Old Man, and he knew how to deal with grief and helplessness.

You box it away and you become better, harder, crueler than those who hurt you, and then they can never win. Oh yes, Lee knew. He was a master at it.

Staring across the flight deck, she caught his eye and was greeted by a now familiar look of hate and scorn. Starbuck smiled. Lee understood.

It was far better to be hated than pitied.