The constant drone of Galactica's trillium-fueled engines weren't something most crew members paid attention to after a few weeks aboard; after a few years the noise ceased to exist all together.
Strange then, how after a year aground on New Caprica, the sound was back to driving Kara crazy. She turned restlessly on the rack, even as beside her, Lee was fast asleep. A pillow flung over her head didn't help and besides, it probably wasn't the noise that was keeping her awake.
She had other, better reasons to suffer from sleeplessness. Things were different now. Different because Sam was dead, different because she hadn't flown in what felt like years, different because she'd been in charge of an army of her own for so long, she'd forgotten was it was like to serve under the command of another.
Let others do the thinking ... the plotting ... for her.
Following orders didn't come as naturally as it used to -- not that following orders ever came naturally to her.
She'd spent so many terrible months on the razor's edge, fighting for her -- and humanity's -- existence, she'd forgotten how to trust the instincts of others, even someone as capable as Adama usually proved himself to be. Kara Thrace had been a general on New Caprica, it was hard to go back now.
That wasn't to say that things were awful, she thought, running her fingers through Lee's hair. He stirred a little, before one sleepy eye cracked open. "When did you become an insomniac?" he asked, squinting at his chrono. "The Starbuck I knew could sleep standing up."
"When the Cylons decided that sleep was overrated," she replied, folding her arms over Lee's chest and tucking her head atop her wrists. She peered at him for a long moment, taking stock of features she new so well, yet could find something new to marvel in every time she looked. "You look rested," she finally remarked, relishing his grin.
"I have you to thank for that." Lee brushed his knuckles along the sides of her face; up one cheek and down the other. "You have a habit of keeping me on my toes."
She laughed aloud. "Is that what they're calling it now?"
In reply, he shifted beneath her, tilting her up until she was completely on top of him. "We can call it whatever you like."
The movement made her squeak, before leaning in to capture a passionate kiss. She could feel his heart thudding beneath the hands she used to steady herself atop him.
It was easy then, easy to rise and take him inside, easy to lose herself in the sensation of him filling her and making her forget, if only for a moment. There were too many bad memories lurking, she wanted to be washed clean, somehow and this seemed to work, at least for a little while.
At least there was a place for her here, a sort of peace in being with Lee, in loving him, she thought, shuddering in his arms as they rose and fell as one. There was war everywhere else, but not here ... not now, and that's more than most could ever say.
It would be greedy to ask for more.
0o0o0o0o0
"Come to bed."
Dualla's whispered order, under most circumstances, would be obeyed with an amusing burst of speed, but this time Felix remained glued to his portable datapad, his eyes keenly focused on running lines of code that repeated themselves every minute or so.
With a wry grin, Dee shoved off the covers. Their shared quarters were small enough that it only took two steps to slip up behind him and wind her arms around his neck. "Are you cheating on me with that thing again?" she teased, with a gentle nip to his earlobe. "I know you're in love with your work, but ..."
"Hmmm?" He shook himself out of his reverie. Smiling, he leaned back in her embrace. "Sorry, sweetheart. I'm just checking over some old code I saved before the hard drive wipe."
"The hard drive wipe? That was over two years ago."
"Twenty-three months. Seems like a lifetime I know, but ..." Felix paused, running a thumb over the datapad's space bar. "I just never figured out exactly what happened or precisely how the virus worked and ... I just hate leaving things hanging, you know?"
Dee pressed her cheek to his. It felt oddly warm, a little fevered and she pulled back in worry. "Is everything all right?"
"Sure." With a mischievous look, Felix swiveled the chair around and pulled her down to straddle his lap. "What could possibly be wrong?"
She gave him a narrow look. It had been a few months since their escape from New Caprica and everything had been fine -- at least the best version of 'fine' the situation had to offer - but she couldn't stop worrying about him. She watched as he drifted away from her sometimes, lost in thought, becoming occasionally forgetful or, worse, snappish, but he was so attentive and adoring the other ninety-nine percent of the time, she could easily overlook the odd outburst or two.
And Doc Cottle had said he was fine, but that didn't stop her from being concerned. There were so many things he hadn't told her; about what horrors he'd seen ... about what he'd been made to do while a Presidential Aide. She knew he was holding tightly onto certain things he refused to share, things that might be hurting him badly. The longer he held them inside, the worse the damage would be.
She didn't like that idea. Not one bit. "I just want to be sure you're okay."
Felix chuckled and gently tugged her down, until their lips were touching. "You could always examine me. Naked."
Dee couldn't help but smile against his mouth. "You were always a pervert, weren't you?"
"A very sad one," he nodded, kissing her lower lip. "And now I'm the happiest guy alive. So don't worry about anything."
Thought grew foggy as the kissed deepened. Still, concern niggled at the back of her mind. There were hard times ahead, she knew, even as she arched into Felix's hands which were doing the most wonderful things along her belly -- as well as further down. They were about to be tested, that much she could sense, but she felt confident that they could withstand just about any storm, just as they withstood the terrors of escaping from New Caprica.
Even if the former President's -- Gaius Baltar's -- trial was soon to begin.
0o0o0o0o0
"I suppose it would be too much to demand a lawyer," Baltar muttered, sitting hunched like a crab on the lone brig bunk. He rocked side to side, while from the other side of the bars, Laura Roslin stared at him with an unblinking gaze. "Not that I've committed any crime, but if I'm in here ..."
"Collusion is a crime," Roslin replied evenly. "Collaboration with the enemy ... treason ... whatever you want to call it. It's a capital offense, if I'm not mistaken, mores the shame if it comes from a sitting President."
Baltar graced her with a brittle smile. "Yes, and we all know just how fond you are of capital punishment, Madam Airlock. However, you'd be hard-pressed to prove collusion when I still have strangle marks on my neck from when those Cylon animals thought it would be amusing to play a game of Threaten the President every day for six months." His voice rose several decibels. "So unless you have hard proof of my collaboration I suggest you let me out of here as I am innocent until proven guilty ... or have you and your Admiral plaything changed the rules again?"
She ignored the dig. "The testimony of the survivors tells another story, as well as my own observations. That's why we'll be sorting it out in a trial."
Baltar laughed and it was a humorless sound. "The survivors, oh yes, that will be an unbiased testimony." Baltar rose, running his hand frantically through hair that was now long and greasy with neglect. He whirled and glared at Roslin, stabbing his finger through the air. "How do you think those people "survived"? Half of them are alive because they are the true collaborators and the other half are here because I ... Gaius Baltar ... stuck my neck out for them, at grave personal risk, again and again, so they could live." Throwing himself against the bars, he stuck his face as close to Roslin's as he could manage, laughing wildly as she jumped back, startled. "As for your observations, Madam President, I'm quite sure you only observed whatever it was you could find that would catapult you back into power. Because that's what all this is about, isn't it? Getting rid of your rival, the only person who could take your precious Presidency away from you and who would still have it, if you didn't create this court of lies against him. You're afraid of me, aren't you, Roslin? Aren't you?"
Laura Roslin drew herself up and leaned in closely, until their noses were almost touching. "I am afraid, but you, Dr. Baltar, are not one of the things I fear." She backed away, brushing at her sleeves, as if Baltar's mere presence had soiled her. "May the gods have mercy on you and may you someday find the inner strength to live with the knowledge that your surrender and subsequent actions nearly destroyed the last shred of hope this race has left."
His face turned dark red and he began to shriek, as Roslin turned and strode through the hatch door, which closed tightly behind her. She could still hear him screaming as she walked away. "I was the last hope the human race had! It's not my fault they invaded us! What else could I have done? What do you think you could have done? You're no better than me, Roslin! Do you hear that! No better than I am!"
It was only once she was out of earshot did she allow herself to shudder and lean against a hull wall, hugging herself tightly and willing her pounding heart to cease its thudding.
This wasn't going to be easy. For too many reasons.