Far From Home
Author: JPBryant
Characters: Sharon/Helo
Rating: Mature, for descriptions of violence, language and sexual situations.
Spoilers: Through 'A Measure of Salvation", everything after that is AU.
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Summary: Helo is forced to take drastic measures to protect his family after a series of events aboard Galactica open his eyes to the reality he and Sharon face. Set after "A Measure of Salvation", it goes completely AU after that.
A/N: The second of seventeen chapters to the story, I'll be posting them as I finish them. Thanks to wintergreen126, jazmin22, and honibrownhateza for beta'ing this story.

Chapter 2

"Nothing," she said.

"Nothing." he repeated, nodding his head slowly. "Well that's just brilliant."

"Gaius, it's too soon to-"

"Did you say too soon?" he asked, his voice rising an octave. "They know I'm alive. They know Hera is alive. And I'm afraid that, unlike you my dear, I don't have the ability to borrow a new body when this one stops working."

She watched him quietly, waiting for him to finish completely before speaking. "Your being overly dramatic, Gaius."

"Your concern is touching, as always."

"Listen to me Gauis," she said sharply. "She will see it. And when she does, they'll have no choice but to come."

"You put to much faith in them."

She stared at him for a long moment, searching his eyes, then nodded slightly. "Perhaps."

-----

Helo awoke without warning, once again thrust out of sleep and into reality, every sense alert as the faint smell of smoke reached him. The walls of the dark room flickered with a pale, orange light that cast long, weak shadows along every object. He knew without looking that he was alone in bed. When he did, he found the covers on her side folded back carefully, as if she had never been there.

He sat up and found her immediately. Across the room, her kneeling silhouette blocked the tiny flame that struggled and failed to illuminate their quarters. Facing the wall, her naked form was outlined in fiery orange, a few flickering rays of light slipping between the strands of her hair. She sat there still and silent, her head bowed in prayer.

"Sharon?" he called out quietly, but she made no movement. Slipping his legs out of bed, he wasn't sure what, if anything, he should do. The sight was alien to him. "Sharon are you okay?"

She made no motion or sound to indicate that she had heard him, remaining perfectly still except for the slight rise and fall of her shoulders as she inhaled and exhaled.

"Sharon?" he called once again as he rose from the bed. The clothes she'd fallen asleep in sat in a pile beside her along with her dog tags, the brass catching and reflecting the light of the flame. He took the bed cover with him as he crossed the short distance to where she knelt. From over her shoulder he could see the single white candle she sat before, half of it already melted and cooled in a pool on the metal floor. Dropping to a knee beside her, he draped the blanket over her shoulders to shelter her from the chill air. Her eyes remained fixed on the light as he did so, and he could see a trail of tears that made it's way down her cheek and fell onto her chest.

He reached out a hand to stop a tear, and as his finger brushed her cheek, she seemed to notice him for the first time. Turning to look at him, she met his eyes and smiled. There was nothing forced or feigned in the expression, no hint of sadness or loss. It was a smile he had never seen before, out-of-place and wonderful.

The flickering candle flame danced in a tear that fell across her far cheek, sliding down till it caught the edge of her smile. He leaned over to brush it away, but she captured his wrist softly before he could do so.

"Sit with me," she said, pulling him ever so slightly closer. He did as she asked, crossing his legs beneath him, their shoulders and thighs touching as she looked back towards the light.

Confused and unsure, he joined her in staring into the tiny flame. A million questions came to his mind, but he couldn't find the words for any of them, and even if he could, he wasn't sure he wanted the answers. As often as he might tell her he wanted to know everything, there were things he was afraid to know.

He looked over at her again and watched the light catch the edges of her dark hair, setting them aflame in shades of auburn. The smile had vanished, replaced by an expression of peaceful contemplation.

"Pray with me?" she asked without looking away from the candle.

He opened his mouth to reply, but shut it quickly as he realized that again he had no words. The request was so much more than she had ever asked of him in this regard; he didn't even know where to begin.

"Sharon, I..." he started, then stopped. "I don't even know..."

She waited patiently for him to continue, but when it was clear he wouldn't, she took his hand in hers once again.

"It's okay, Helo," she said, with a small smile, a smile he knew. "You don't have to believe."

He wanted to tell her that it wasn't a lack of faith that held him back, but he simply nodded and looked back to the flame. But this was important to her and so it would be important to him to, even if he didn't know why.

He tried to remember the prayers he had learned as a child, and when he did, he found them inadequate. None of them seemed to fit this moment or time in his life, none of them matched what he felt inside.

Closing his eyes, he abandoned what he knew and simply thanked the Gods, as many of them as he could name, for everything in his life. When he ran out of his Gods, he thanked hers, wondering if the prayer of a human carried any weight.

They watched the candle burn down as the minutes stretched from night to morning. The time passed in silence; an occasional glance or brush of the hand the only communication they shared. Though questions circled in his mind, he never gave into the urge to ask them, and instead pondered them alone, finding his own answers as he was apt to do.

And when the flame finally exhausted itself in the early morning hours, she took his hand in hers and leaned her head on his shoulder. Within a minute she was asleep, the sound of her breath even and slow in his ear. Carefully lifting her from the floor, he carried her to the bed, and offered a final prayer of his own before letting sleep take him as well.

-----

"I love you," she whispered.

Helo opened his eyes and shut them immediately as the light of the room blinded him. Rolling over, he buried his face in the pillow. "What time is it?"

"Don't get up," Sharon said quietly, placing a hand on his arm. "It's still early."

"How early?" he asked, his voice muffled by the pillow.

"Zero-five-hundred."

"Gods," he muttered, as he tried to crawl deeper into the covers. Memories of the night before came back to his mind, and he knew why he felt the way he did; he doubted it had been more than an a few hours since he brought her back to bed. He rolled onto his back and tried to open his eyes, then gave up. "Sleep isn't a luxury for all of us, Sharon."

"I didn't mean to wake you," she said, her voice showing none of the exhaustion his did. "I just wanted to tell you that before I left."

There was something wrong with what she was saying, but it took his sluggish thought process a second to figure out what it was. Finally opening his eyes, he looked over to see her already dressed in her flight suit, her hair tied back in a pony-tail, ready for the day to start.

"It's so early," he said. "Your shift doesn't start for another two hours." "I know," she replied, standing up and walking over to her locker. "But I'm almost done with those calibrations. I want to get them done today."

"Yeah," he acknowledged, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. "Okay. Just give me a minute to get cleaned up and I'll walk you down there."

She shook her head as she pulled a duffle from her locker. "Don't worry about it, babe, go back to bed. I think I can find my own way down there."

He frowned at the suggestion. Spending an extra five minutes with her each morning was a nice way to start the day, but it wasn't the reason he walked with her to and from each shift. Despite all the freedoms and responsibility she had been given, the fate of Galactica's other Sharon was never too far from his mind; it would only take one person and one moment for him to lose everything.

"It will only take me a second," he said with a yawn, swinging his legs off the side of their bed and trying to summon the will to stand up.

"Babe." Sharon walked back over and placed a hand on his shoulder, pushing him till he was again on his back. "Go to sleep."

"Yeah," he conceded, letting his tired lids close.

Leaning over him, she stole a small kiss. "Meet me at the observation deck when the shift ends?"

"Okay," he answered, the question barely registering with him.

He pulled the covers back over him as he heard the hatch open and shut. Settling back into the bed, the familiar sounds and smells of their room were as comforting as the pillow beneath his head. As he lay there waiting for sleep to return, the scent of her skin lingered in his mind, conjuring memories of their first night in this bed, the night before she left for New Caprica. They hadn't known if there would ever be a second night, but that was the story of their life, and they hadn't let it stop them from enjoying the moment to the fullest.

One memory flowed into another, holding off sleep as his mind recalled the first of firsts. Sleeping on the wet forest floor, searching abandoned buildings for food, and waiting for the rain to stop; Caprica had been the forge that bound them, leaving them tempered and shaped by the time spent there. And though he couldn't point to the single moment when he knew that he couldn't live without her, it had been true from the day he met her.

His thoughts had left him far from sleep, and at some point along the way his eyes had cracked open, staring blankly at the near wall. When he shut them again, a small pang of guilt struck him as he remembered that Sharon was walking alone to her shift while he lay there daydreaming.

He tried shifting positions, to find something more comfortable. Kara had once accused him of being able to fall asleep anywhere at anytime, and considering some of the places he had slept in the last three years, it was hard to argue. But he suddenly found little appeal in the half-empty bed.

With a sigh he pulled back the covers and gave up, sure that he would pay for his lack of sleep later. He only hoped that this day would be less interesting than the last.

-----

Walking into the CIC thirty minutes before his shift started, Helo immediately regretted his decision to leave the gym early. Holding a handset to his ear, Tigh followed him with a single accusing eye as he approached the center console.

"Morning, Gaeta," Helo said as he stepped down into the heart of the room.

"Good morning, Captain."

Tigh kept his eye on Helo as he spoke into the handset. "Yeah, he just walked in. You wanna talk to him? Alright, I'll send him down." The colonel hung up and stared up at the empty DRADIS. "Admiral wants to see you, ASAP."

"What is it, sir?" Helo asked.

The colonel's eyes snapped back down. "Just do what you're told, Captain. Dismissed."

Biting his tongue, Helo saluted sharply, and headed out of the CIC.

Making his way toward the admiral's quarters, his mind raced with the possible reasons for the summons, and none of the ones he came up with were good. Good news was always made public by the admiral, bad news never so; bad news was reserved for private places and times, and never spoken over a handset.

He picked up his pace slightly as the worst possibilities came to his mind, but then slowed down as he thought about it some more. There were a dozen reasons the admiral might want privacy, and not all of them were bad. It hadn't been bad news the last time he had been called to see the admiral, the day the old-man had given his blessing for him to marry Sharon.

Helo rapped twice on the door to the admiral's quarters, and he was quickly called to come in. Opening the hatch he found that he was not alone with the old-man; a woman he recognized but could not place sat on the couch. Her olive complexion and sharp features were noteworthy, but it was her clothes that set her apart from the average civilian he had met. He wasn't a fashion expert, but he knew the rich blue and black ensemble she wore would fetch a small fortune on the black market. And it wasn't just what she wore, but how she wore it, confident and sure.

"Captain Agathon, I don't know if you've met Tory Foster," the admiral said, standing in front of his desk. "She's the president's senior aid."

Helo nodded once at the woman in acknowledgment. "Hello Ms. Foster."

"Captain," she greeted, eyeing him over briefly then looking back to the admiral. "Of course you realize sir, that I'm not here to speak with Captain Agathon."

Helo was unsure what to make of the scene, but he could see the telltale signs of agitation in the admiral's stance, even as he remained expressionless. "We're trying to find Lieutenant Agathon. She'll be here momentarily to answer your questions."

The president's aid looked back at Helo, this time spending a bit longer in judging him before speaking. "Your presence isn't necessary, Captain. Thank you for your time."

"Wait, what?" he asked, still trying to get a grasp on the situation. The mention of Sharon had moved his point of view on the conversation from observer to involved participant. "What's going on?"

The admiral's eyes were still on Foster, and Helo could see that he had entered the middle of a debate, not joined the start of one.

"As you know, Ms. Foster," the admiral began slowly, keeping all emotion from his tone. "The president and I disagree strongly on this issue, as strongly as possible. Only with serious reservations, I have ceded to the president's authority on this. Captain Agathon will stay."

"I understand, admiral," Foster replied. "But it might be advantageous if we were to question them separately. They might be able to-"

"This is my ship," the admiral said, cutting her off. "They are officers under my command, and my protection. I will not have them interrogated like criminals, regardless of the urgency of the situation."

"Sir," Helo interjected desperately, the admiral's words filling him with dread. "What is going on?"

The admiral looked over at him, his expression softening. "Captain, have you had a chance to review the questions-"

Foster cut off the admiral before he could finish. "I'm here from the president to get answers regarding the child. We need them now."

Realization came quickly as he recalled the folder thrown into his nightstand, and his discussion with the admiral regarding it. He shook his head slowly as he looked at the Foster. "This isn't necessary, you don't need to do this."

"Frankly, Captain, you're in no position to know what is or isn't necessary." Foster looked back to the admiral. "Admiral, with all due respect, the president was under the impression that I would be able to question the Cylon directly regarding the child."

"The Lieutenant will be here any moment," the admiral replied, exuding a calmness that Helo himself felt evaporating as he stood and listened to this woman.

"Wait," Helo said again, desperate to slow down the conversation flying by him. "What's going on? What aren't you telling me?"

"Mr. Agathon, I'm afraid it's not necessary for you to understand," Foster said remaining dispassionate. "My questions regarding the child are for-"

"Listen to me," Helo growled, his frustrations finally boiling over. "It's not the child, got it? When you talk to me, it's Hera, or if you prefer, your daughter. But when you talk to me, it's not the child. Got it?"

The sudden ferocity of his reaction caught Foster off guard for a moment, but she quickly recovered.

"Mr. Agathon," she began calmly. "Please remember, that the president suffers the presence of your wife only because-"

"Suffers?" he repeated in disbelief. "She saved your ass off of New Caprica! Not to mention-"

"She suffers her presence only because of the value she has as an intelligence and military asset." Foster lifted up a folder, identical to the one sitting in his nightstand. "You wife has an opportunity to prove her loyalty by answering these questions. However if she refuses-"

"Stop," the admiral commanded loudly. The phone on his desk rang once. "Both of you."

Captain Agathon please report immediately to-

"She hasn't refused anything," Helo spat back, ignoring the sound of his name over the intercom. The phone rang again, and the admiral picked it up. "But after hearing this I think she should," Helo added.

Admiral Adama please come to-

"If she refuses to answer these questions," Foster continued, "Then the president will have no qualms putting her back in the cell she belongs in."

He didn't know or care if the threat was an idle one, or if they were mere words from a person who made a living manipulating them. In a heartbeat he was across the room and in her face.

But before he could speak, the admiral grabbed his arm.

"Helo..." The admiral's voice trailed off, his eyes staring blankly ahead. Helo looked back over the admiral's shoulder to see the handset hanging from its cord, sounds of chaos coming from the other end of the line. A myriad of voices were calling out unintelligibly, heavy footsteps echoing from the receiver, and finally a cry of pain.

A cry of pain from Sharon.