Title : Break
Author : Helen C.
Rating : PG-13 for violence
Summary : He should have known then and there that it would all end with a stupid attempt at taking over the ship.
Spoilers : Everything aired so far (up to 3x11) is fair game.
Pairings : Lee/Dee, glimpses of Lee/Kara, but the pairings aren't the point of the story.
Disclaimer : The characters and the universe were created and are owned by Ronald D. Moore and Universal Television Studios to name but a few. No money is being made. No copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
AN. Huge thanks to my beta, Joey, who gave this a look even though BSG is not her fandom of choice.
Part Three
Lee surfaces for a few minutes, shortly after the surgery. His father is standing near his bed, talking to Tigh. Lee can't really make out what they're saying, but at some point, he sees Tigh put a hand on the Admiral's shoulder and nod to Lee.
Then, his father is leaning over him. "Lee? Are you okay?"
Lee stares at him a moment. "No," he says.
"Are you in pain? Do you want—"
"No," Lee replies, closing his eyes again.
He feels a soft squeeze on his arm before drifting off.
xxxxxxxxxxx
When he wakes up coherent enough to take stock of how crappy he feels, Cottle is near his bed, studying his chart.
Their eyes meet and suddenly, Lee is certain that the next words out of the doctor's mouth will be some variation of, "You're lucky to be alive," and if that happens, he's sure he's going to lose it in a major way.
Cottle, however, isn't stupid and has dealt with soldiers all his life, so instead, he proceeds to tell Lee what's wrong with him—three broken ribs, internal bleeding ("It took us a while but we managed to save your spleen."), cuts and bruises. "I'm sure you must be feeling those. Need something for the pain?"
Cottle's bedside manner has always sucked.
Right now, Lee is grateful for his bluntness.
xxxxxxxxxxx
The next few days are a blur of worried voices.
Of compassionate eyes.
Of comforting pats on the shoulder.
Of meaningless reassurances.
"There was nothing else you could have done, Lee. Son."
"Those bastards didn't give you a choice, Major."
He wants to scream.
xxxxxxxxxxx
Cottle is really good at dealing with grieving, traumatized, pissed-as-hell soldiers, so when he finds Lee clutching paper and a pen, staring at the covers, he doesn't offer a sympathetic ear.
Good.
The last thing Lee wants is sympathy.
Trying to write the report now was a bad idea, it turns out.
Lee is so damn angry that he can't even see straight anymore.
What he wants is five minutes alone with the surviving terrorists.
"Go ahead before your BP rises even more," Cottle says. "Tear that thing to pieces, throw it at the wall for all I care."
Lee does with a strangled shout.
"Feeling better?" Cottle asks, his voice clinical.
"No."
Lee spends the next twenty hours staring at the ceiling, ignoring everyone who comes visit him.
xxxxxxxxxxx
Kara comes see him the day he's released.
She whispers an awkward, "I'm sorry."
She doesn't try to touch him.
He didn't expect her to.
xxxxxxxxxxx
The president holds him back after the funeral.
She mercifully doesn't speak about duty, or necessary choices.
She does offer condolences, hugs him briefly, the way his mother would have.
xxxxxxxxxxx
His father doesn't say anything.
When Lee reports for duty, three weeks after, and salutes, his father salutes back, smiles encouragingly, and returns to business.
Chances are, he knows there's nothing to say.
xxxxxxxxxxx
The other pilots—his men—are loud and cheering, asking him when he'll start flying again, and when he'll come play cards with them.
That helps, which is one of the many reasons why he resents it.
Nothing should help.
Nothing should make the pain better.
xxxxxxxxxxx
Lee survives.
He has always been good at surviving.
And if a part of him died on that ship, who will be able to tell?
Lee Adama has long since earned himself the reputation of being an uncaring bastard—nothing is ever private on a ship, and everyone knows what everyone thinks about everyone else.
He has heard the whispers.
He has heard what they say about him—harsh rumors, contradicted only by those who were in the CIC when his father got shot.
He doesn't really care anymore.
He refuses to cry, he doesn't show his pain, and if people want to think that makes him less than fully human, maybe they're right.
TBC