DISCLAIMER: The character's and the universe of the Battlestar Galactica do not belong to me.

BETAED by AMMONITE. Thank you.

Also thanks for all the reviews - they make me want to keep writing!

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YEAR OF HELL by -yannik-

Chapter Eight – LOST CHANCES

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Lee couldn't stop trembling. He realized that his reactions were unbefitting, but he couldn't control his body – his brain was working alright, his stomach on the contrary – refused to cooperate. He barely made it to the toilet before throwing up the whole dinner he'd just eaten. Then he looked back at the hatch to the main room, breathing with difficulty. He didn't hear any sounds of quarrel or fight. Either the door was sound-proof, or they had stopped. Maybe Anders had dragged Kara out? Maybe Dee needed his attention? Maybe she was hurt?

But Lee couldn't make his limbs obey. He was sitting there, on the cold head floor, and gazed at the door. And he kept asking himself what had happened to him? Who was this person he no longer recognized? And when had the change occurred? A couple of days ago? While sparring with Kara? After their kiss? He knew only that he hadn't really slept since, dreams of drowning and her drowning with him were too haunting to bear. He couldn't think clearly, even Major Balder had noticed how distracted he had been this morning.

This was it, he thought. He had finally reached a point where he had to make a decision. Where he had to admit… what did that note from Ishay say?… That he was depressed, and his ability to command a military vessel needed to be reevaluated? No. He could not admit that. He could not go to his father and tell him he couldn't deal with the Beast. He couldn't bear disappointment in the Old Man's eyes.

He failed in every department. As a commander, a son, a friend and a lover. He failed.

And he couldn't face it.

Lee pulled out his firearm and eyed it for a long time, weighing the odds. He could hear the rush of blood in his ears – ta-dum, ta-dum. But what else could he do? He tried to think of a way out, but the only way led through the main room of his quarters, where he had left his girlfriend to be massacred by his friend. One evidence of his failure followed by another.

There was only one final failure to be accomplished.

He lifted the gun and pressed it against his chin. Yes. This was it. Just a few more heartbeats, ten maybe.

Ta-dum.

He should have done it a long time ago. Should have listened to his instincts.

Ta-dum.

He knew this was right. The calmness that engulfed him now, proved it.

Ta-dum. Ta-dum.

Only his heart was racing faster. How many more? Six?

Ta-dum, ta-dum.

Four?

Ta-dum, ta-dum, ta-dum...

"What an ass are you?" A scream from the doorway nearly made him pull the trigger. He let the palm holding the gun fall down and inhaled sharply, realizing he was holding his breath. He didn't draw the final breath… "You left me there with that crazy… What is that?"

Lee's hand still held the gun loosely in his lap. He looked at it as if seeing it for the first time. He had failed again. He got up, secured his firearm and put it into a holster. He was calm. He couldn't remember the last time he was able to think so clearly.

Turned to Nastia and looked into her frightened, questioning eyes.

"I have to go," he told her softly. "Everything will be okay." Lifted his palm – the one that almost killed him just moments ago – and stroked the bruise on her cheek. "I need to get help."

Other choices died out. He had to turn himself over to the doctor and hope for a light verdict.

He marched purposefully towards the Life Station. As he stepped into the Doc's office, Layne Ishay lifted her eyes at him, surprised. He closed the door firmly and sat opposite from her at her desk.

"I tried to kill myself," he said simply.

Doc Ishay inhaled and exhaled deeply. Twice. Before she was able to reply.

"When was that?"

"Just a moment ago." Lee unbuckled his holster and put it down on her desk. "With this."

Cautiously she reached out and moved the gun out of his reach.

"Why did you decide against it?" she asked.

"Dee came in on me. It was purely coincidental. If it wasn't for her, I would have done it this time."

"This time? You mean you tried to kill yourself before?"

Lee hesitated. Why did he say 'this time'? "No" he breathed out. No, he had never tried something like that. Why would he? In fact – why did he now? He could not remember. He just looked at Doc Ishay, shaking his head.

"Alright" she sighed. "Can you tell me…how have you been feeling lately? Sad?"

"I don't know."

"Anxious? Empty?"

"Empty more likely."

"Have you had any problems with sleep?"

"Not more than usual."

"Eating? You seem to have gained some weight."

The questions followed. Lee tried to answer them as honestly as he could, but it still bothered him that there were things he found hard to recall. He remembered Dualla's breakdown, but when the Doc asked him about Starbuck, he got confused; he wasn't seeing Kara that often, she was on Galactica… wasn't she?

He sat at the Doc's office very long, she ordered some blood tests, ECG, EEG. He was paged a couple of times by CIC, but she must have told them he was unavailable, because he hadn't heard them call him later. She talked a lot to him too, asked many questions, and some of his memories returned. Those about kissing Kara and how it had shaken him. He told Doc Ishay all about it, and she listened patiently, making notes.

Finally – Lee had no idea how much time had passed – she decided to tell him what she considered to be the problem. "Like I thought, Commander, you suffer from depression. You've probably been dealing with it for months. It actually proves your strength that you survived this long without treatment."

Lee smiled bitterly. Strength… or simply luck. If he could call it luck. Perhaps misfortune would be better, it would be so much easier to not have to deal with all this right now. He felt so tired.

"I'm gonna have to ask Cottle to…" Layne was explaining some possible treatments, and the older Doc's name registered with Lee.

"No." He reacted abruptly.

Doc Ishay looked at him, startled.

"You can't tell Cottle. Or my father." Lee pleaded against his better judgment. He was well aware of what the consequences were; he had known it all along. It was why he had avoided asking for help for so long. There was no way that someone emotionally unstable could command a war ship, but the mere thought of such a radical change in his life, filled him with dread.

What would he do?

He knew he sealed his doom by coming down here; he couldn't expect Ishay to comply with his request to let him keep his post. Why would she?

But there was something unusual about Layne Ishay, something that made him trust her in spite of everything. Earlier he'd thought that it was the fact that she'd saved his father's life, but now he had a feeling there was more to it. There was that strange bond between them, not love, not even friendship, but something beyond that. As if somewhere… somehow… in a different life maybe… they were really close to one another.

So he tried to explain his feelings to her. "I don't want them to relieve me of duty."

She nodded quietly in understanding and sighed deeply. "You know that I am required to report all serious conditions to the authorities? Those that might endanger others?" She waited for the Commander to nod; all Lee could do was to bow his head in defeat. "However…" her hesitant whisper surprised him, and he looked up. She was struggling with her conscience, and as their eyes met, she made a decision. "Technically we're not in danger now. We're not at war, so perhaps we can postpone this report, and see how you improve within the next few weeks."

Lee looked at Doc Ishay, shocked how she was able to read his mind.

"If the situation was different I'd relieve myself," he said earnestly, hoping that was true. Though given his recent denial, he was afraid he might not be able to allow things to get out of his control, to allow others to decide for him.

Layne looked at him skeptically. She knew that. She read him so easily.

"Nonetheless," she sighed after a considerable pause. "I must know your condition at all times. And I must inform your XO."

"Major Balder? Couldn't we?…"

"No. We couldn't. She is directly under your command, and she has to know what she's dealing with. I will only brief her; you can tell her the details if you find it necessary. I would also strongly recommend that your friends knew about your condition. Ensign Dualla, Lieutenant Thrace. Whoever else you choose. But I leave it up to you to tell them. You are the one who's going to be fighting this, and you have to choose your allies." She used the military comparison. And she smiled. "You know I am one of them."

Lee was aware of how much she was risking by hiding his condition from his superior. And he wasn't going to fail her. He really wanted to believe things could get better.

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Lee had no idea how long he was stuck in Life Station, but when he left, the corridors of Pegasus were empty and silent. He didn't expect it to be different in his quarters, so the light coming from the bedroom startled him.

Dee was up, reading a book. She put it away, spotted him and got up. There were a few stitches on her cheek and a nasty gash.

"Does it hurt?" he asked softly, nearing her.

"No," she bowed, as if ashamed of her appearance. "They gave me pain-killers. They're wearing off though, I'm gonna' have to take another pill soon," she rambled, and then she stopped. And looked at him. "How are you?"

Lee's first impulse was to say he was fine, but he faltered. "Not good," he managed, not looking up at her. What was he supposed to tell her? Ishay said he should ask his friends – Dee and Starbuck, how ironic – for help. But could he, really? "Dee… Anastasia… I think we should end this" he whispered.

"This?" she repeated. "What?"

"This. Us." Lee finally looked at her. "I can't… I can't let you… I'm a mess right now, Nasti. And you've been through hell lately, too. You deserve better than this, you should…"

"I should?" she cut in. "How are you so wise, that you know what I need, or what I want? You know what? You don't. I think that it would be better if you asked what I want."

Lee swallowed hard. In a way she was right. "What do you want?" he asked.

"I want to be with you. Because what I told Starbuck is true – I love you and love means support in hard times. You were there for me. Now it's my turn."

She smiled gently, and Lee slowly nodded. But as he was undressing and preparing to sleep, he couldn't help but think there was something missing in this conversation. Dee didn't really ask what was wrong. She didn't even mention what she had seen when she came in on him in the head. As if it didn't even happen. Or as if it didn't matter to her, and all she wanted was to prove her point to Starbuck and everybody else.

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Lee was leafing through the reports Kara had brought him, but wasn't reading them. Instead he was wondering what Kara had told Dee when instructed to apologize. Dee said she wasn't sure if she should feel apologized to, or more offended. Kara could do just that – smile at you while rubbing your face in dirt. And you wouldn't even notice.

When his signatures were on the papers, he placed them on the growing pile on the side of his desk. But Kara was still standing there as if expecting something.

"Anything else, Captain?" he asked, and she lifted her eyes, eyes that were saying volumes. And suddenly they shut.

"No, sir" she snapped. And then sort of changed her mind. "Actually… I request permission to go to Galactica, sir."

"Since when do you need my permission?" Lee squinted at her. "You can shuffle yourself back and forth if that's what you need to do."

"Yes, but… it's not about the job" she admitted. "It's personal, sir."

Lee sighed and nodded. "Alright then. Permission granted."

She saluted sharply and left the room.

Lee leaned back in his chair and rubbed his face. He couldn't read Kara; he couldn't guess what she wanted. Was it about Anders? The man was about to leave for the planet in a day or two, maybe Kara was angry about that? Lee was tired of it, he was tired of everything. The medications he was taking were making him fuzzy enough. He got up to get himself a cup of coffee. He needed something to get himself started, the pile on his desk was growing rapidly and dangerously. He wondered if there suddenly were more reports than usual, but after a moment he admitted that it was him, who was working slower. He was sick, thus he was not sufficient in his work any more. He had to talk about it with Layne in the afternoon. There probably was nothing that could be done. Withdrawing from treatment right now was out of the question, and he really wanted to get better this time. He wanted to believe things could get better.

He took a handful of papers from his desk to study them on the couch. He had just signed a few reports without even reading them; he had to make up for it immediately. What did Kara bring? A report form an uneventful CAP around New Caprica, a report on drunk and disorderly behavior of the three pilots in the rec room, a recommendation for Lieutenant Gray to be promoted to Captain and the CAG – what the heck was that for? Next – a request to be relieved of duty, and allowed to move planetside. Signed by… Captain Kara 'Starbuck' Thrace.

"What the frak!" Lee spilled the coffee on the table, happily avoiding the pile of papers. "Shit!" he reached for the phone, at the same time trying to wipe the fluid with some cloth he found on the floor, probably his own tank-top. His quarters were getting untidy. "Give me Captain Thrace!" he shouted to the operator. Was it Dee? Most likely.

"I'm sorry, sir" she replied. "Captain Thrace has left the Pegasus and is currently docking on the Galactica. Do you want me to put you through to her raptor?"

"No." Lee hesitated for a moment. "Give me flight control." He waited for a soft 'click', and a 'helo' from the officer on the other side. "This is the Commander. Prepare me a raptor, right now!"

He couldn't let her go like that!

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t.b.c.