Their flight was onscreen, and it reminded Lee of pyramid, one-on-one. He could almost picture the expression on Kara's face as she ducked and weaved. Lip caught between small, even teeth, brows slightly furrowed. Concentration in its fullest, because when Kara turned her complete attention to something, the rest of the world didn't even exist for her. Of course, nothing got her complete attention often, but when it did, the effect was rather phenomenal.

He'd tried to get her to focus on history that way, but the closest he'd ever gotten was her full focus turned on him instead of the textbook. It'd been more than a little frightening, like all of him was being weighed in some sort of balance, like she could actually see what made him tick. He'd been craving it ever since the first time it happened.

He knew it was wrong to want that. Wanting things was alright, but wanting people, wanting attention and appreciation, left you open to all kinds of hurt. He'd learned that young, from the other player on the sim screen.

And perhaps that's why he'd never been hit by jealousy quite as strongly as he was while watching their contest, a sharp spike of it, running through him without his permission. He hadn't been sure whether he was jealous of his father, getting to share something with Kara that he couldn't, or whether he was jealous of her getting to share something with his father that he couldn't.

And he had a long time to think about it, as their flight kept going for a good half hour. The particular sim they'd chosen was an aerial obstacle course of sorts, not popular with the first-year cadets because it usually ended with one player flying into something rather than a firefight. Both Kara and his father were too good for that though, and they'd used the obstacles as both cover and weapon, trying to lure each other into tough spots while keeping their own positions secure. The flight ended in a draw, Kara losing on points because she'd run out of fuel first.

She complained good-naturedly that it wasn't fair, because you could still fly on bingo fuel, dang it, and she was pretty sure she could have gotten the Commander if she'd just been allowed a few more seconds.

More important though, she looked at his father with that look, the one that meant complete focus. And his dad didn't even know enough to appreciate how unusual that was. He just grinned back at her, a casual smile on his face. At least, until he set eyes on Lee. That knocked the grin off pretty quickly, and Lee wasn't sure whether to be hurt or vindictively glad.

----------------------

He and his father had a frank exchange of views over dinner, of the kind which served to make Lee eternally grateful that there was no chance that he would ever be serving under this man.

Turns out that his parents still aren't that great at the whole communication thing, and though his mom told his dad that their eldest had made it into the fleet academy, she'd neglected to tell him about the history concentration. Commander Adama had not been best pleased to hear that his son was planning on life as an academic.

"Lee," he'd said, "you're wasting your talents by sitting here all day with your nose stuck in books."

Lee's first thought was of Kara, the first day he'd spoken to her, and her comment about books being lacking. His second thought was that his dad had never before thought he had any talents to waste. Those two ideas festered together the rest of the evening, as he went through the motions of bidding his father farewell. He ended the night like he always ends nights with his father, feeling both like a lost little boy and pissed as hell.

-----------------------

He usually refuses when Kara comes to his door and tries to drag him along on her semi-regular drinking binges, but when she knocked on his door that night, he was already dressed and ready to go.

He wasn't surprised to see her. Karl and his speech on unreliability aside, he knew Kara now, at least well enough to know what she'd do most of the time, even if he still hasn't quite figured out what makes her tick.

For her part, she didn't seem surprised at his willingness to go with her. There wasn't even a slow blink to indicate confusion as she took his wrist in a vice-grip and pulled him along to Karl's banged-up car. The grip was actually a little comforting, but the fact that she might be reading him just as well or better than he was reading her was not. He was supposed to figure her out, not the other way around. That was how it worked. That was the whole point. She could be the godsdamned hero, and he would watch. Being watched back in return was not part of the bargain.

He realized he wasn't making much sense: after all, he'd wanted her complete focus only that afternoon. That was before she'd talked to his father though. He wasn't sure he wanted any part of anyone who thought William Adama was worth their attention.

He was acting like a child and he knew it. It should have made him think twice about imbibing anything likely to lower his inhibitions. Instead, he'd proceeded to get smashingly drunk. It was all Kara's fault, he was pretty sure. His history professor was completely right about her being a bad influence.

Especially since he'd had beer goggles before, but never quite like this. He looked at Kara through a haze of alcohol, and all he could see was the child his father had always wanted.

He wasn't usually a nasty drunk—he wasn't usually any kind of drunk—but that night he picked a fight with her. It was a stupid thing to do. He should have gone home, or, barring that, at least picked a fight with someone else. Someone a little less able to hurt him.

But she was there, and his dad liked her, and she was getting too close damn it, and the only consolation that his drunken mind could come up with was that somewhere in the past year, he had picked up on enough things that he knew how to hit her where it hurt. And since his father had just come to visit, family was a natural enough topic.

"Kara, what does your dad do?" He was good. Even this drunk, he'd managed to make his tone of voice natural enough that she answered casually, even though she normally never talked about family. Maybe the alcohol had loosened her tongue. Or maybe she thought that he needed to talk about fathers, after the day he'd had. She couldn't have been more wrong.

"He's a musician," she said. Or maybe that had been "He was." Lee was a little too tipsy, and Kara lisping just enough, that it could have been either.

"Sounds like a nancy profession to me. No wonder he didn't have the balls to stick around."

And there, he had her full attention again. Just like he'd wanted. Just like his father had had. She was pale and furious, and he was taking a breath, getting ready to throw everything he'd ever suspected about her family back in her face, to make her pay for knowing him so well, for liking his father, for…

The next thing he knew he was on the ground, and he could feel his eye swelling shut. He could have gotten up and hit her back, but he was in more than a bit of shock. Besides, he'd deserved that.

"What the frak would you know about unhappy childhoods, little Adama?" she asked.

She looked fierce and ugly, face twisted and hands balled into fists, and he had had enough. He told her so, screamed at her, and pretty soon everything he knew about unhappy childhoods was pouring out of him: the divorce, Zak, how nothing he did was ever good enough, how terrified he was that somehow his father would pull strings and take history away from him…

His eyes had blurred somewhere in the middle of the tirade, and one of them was swelling shut, and he felt sick. And now his plan of not letting her know too much, not letting her get too close, was pretty much shot to hell.

He was too lost in misery to notice when Kara sat down next to him, but he noticed when she put her hand on his shoulder, a steady presence that just stayed there for a few minutes, until he could gather himself enough to get off the floor and make his way back to the dorms.

She never apologized, or told him that she understood, but she did sneak into the infirmary that night to get him an ice pack, and Lee decided that it was almost the same thing.