DISCLAIMER: The characters and the universe of the Battlestar Galactica do not belong to me.

BETA'ed by AMMONITE

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YEAR OF HELL by -yannik-

Chapter Nine – CHOICES AND FALLOUTS

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The hatch to the Admiral's quarters thumped against the door frame as Lee stormed into the room. He was welcomed by three pairs of shocked eyes, hesitated at the sight of the Admiral and the Colonel, but then his gaze was caught by the green pupils of Kara, and anger boiled again.

"You're not going to do this," he hissed, stepping into her personal space and indicating the resignation that had remained grasped in his hand from the moment he'd read it.

She just stared at him speechless. She certainly had not expected this kind of reaction.

"Lee, calm down." The harsh voice of the Admiral reached him, but he ignored it.

"With all due respect, I am calm sir! Kara? Say you're not going to do this."

She looked up, and in her eyes he saw determination. "What do you want from me, Apollo?" she uttered. "I tried, alright? I tried really hard to be your friend, to be there for you. But I'm not exactly good at this kind of stuff. All I can do is frak it up! And so I did..."

"What are you talking about?" he interrupted. "This isn't about me. Or about you, or about any fraking friendship. This is about the entire Fleet, about all the people down there, responsibility..."

"Well, maybe I'm tired of it?" she screamed into his face. "Maybe I'm tired of responsibility, of giving up on my life all the time, of sacrificing everything that I have! Maybe I want something for myself for a change!"

"This is betrayal. You were sworn..."

"And I'm not deserting. I'm asking permission from my commanding officers. I got yours already."

Lee gritted his teeth. He could not deny that. His signature was there, black on white.

"Maybe you should read what you sign," she added in a whisper. She could not push his buttons any harder.

"If you go out this door, Kara, you have nothing to return here for," he hissed. "I don't ever want to see you again. Ever."

"Not a big deal, Apollo. I don't owe you anything, and neither do you owe me; there's nothing here. We've proven this to each other enough times."

Lee cast her one final glance and turned around to leave. His father's voice caught up with him once more.

"Don't leave Galactica, Commander," the Old Man said gruffly. "I expect you back here in my office in half an hour."

Frak! That was just what Lee needed. "Yes, sir!" he replied, not turning back.

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When he got back to his father's quarters, his fury diminished and remorse settled in. But he had to put that feeling off for later, as he was expecting a lecture first.

The Old Man made him wait. Told him to sit at his desk while – in complete silence – he made coffee. Then he stood before the bookshelf for a moment, staring at the volumes. Sighed several times.

And finally he sat behind his desk and looked at Lee.

"Commander," he started, and Lee was thankful that this was a formal conversation, rather than a father-son heart-to-heart. "I understand that it is hard to lose a good officer, and Starbuck is one. But this kind of behavior is unacceptable."

"I'm sorry."

"You didn't read the resignation she gave you?"

Lee could only answer with silence and bowed his head. This was it. His father was going to demote him and throw him to the brig for neglecting his duties. He deserved it.

"What's gotten into you?" came a soft question. A worried question. Lee had no answer, either. "Son, I know that Kara is your friend." The Admiral turned fatherly all of a sudden. "I know that you count on her to always be by your side. I know that feeling. . ."

"You do?" Lee suddenly looked up and asked as quickly. "So tell me… How would you feel if your best friend abandoned you like that? If Colonel Tigh presented you with his resignation?"

"I don't have to imagine my reaction to Saul leaving. I feel as bad about Kara – I counted on her too."

"So why are you letting her go that easily?"

"Who says it was easily?" The Admiral fell silent, waiting for the words to sink it. After a moment he continued. "But I have to understand her point of view. Starbuck is a person who needs to act; she can't be trapped, and what is she here, but trapped? What do we do up here, but wait for the cylons to reappear? She's not a person who waits. Down on the surface she will at least take active part in building the future for the people. And I'll tell you this, Lee – if Saul asked me to let him go as well – I would. Because I don't want to keep anyone trapped here."

"And what if it was me?" asked Lee, and immediately knew it was the wrong question to ask.

The Admiral stared at him, not blinking. "If it was you? Wanting to leave?" He repeated the question. And then answered with another. "Would you really?"

Lee looked at his father for a very long time, considering his answer. Would he, really? He thought he would. Not so long ago he'd thought that had been what he'd wanted. But he had had a chance, hadn't he? An easy way out – there had been someone willing to say he'd not been fit for active duty, and then he'd be free to decide whatever he'd wanted to do with his life. The problem was – he had no idea what it might be.

"I didn't think so," the Admiral answered, not waiting for his son's response any longer. He either guessed, or assumed the answer was what he imagined it to be. "But if you did, I would let you go. You know that."

Right, Lee wanted to snort, but he knew better than that. And then something crossed his mind. If his father was so understanding, if he really was willing to recognize the needs of everybody around – Kara, Tigh – then why not his?

"I think I'm..." he started and hesitated. But what the heck! "I dunno. Kind of... depressed," he said tentatively.

"Depressed?" Bill asked incredulously. "Well, so are we all," he stated with a small smile. "I pretty much feel down too, seeing Galactica disintegrate. It's all going to hell. But it's a measure of a man – what he does in challenging situations like this. You don't give in. You stay strong, even if no one expects you to. Because it's in your head, son – that's where your moral compass is. If there's no one to tell you what to do, you have to be able to tell yourself. And that's what makes you a good commander."

Lee sat and blankly listened to his Old Man's tirade. He knew he did not live up to the Admiral's expectations; he did not live up to the position he had been assigned. You don't give in? He had given in... completely. So completely, he had wanted to resign from it in the most cowardly way – by killing himself.

"I'll get a grip then," Lee whispered when his father finished. He hoped he still had a chance at redemption.

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Kara did leave for New Caprica. She did not even come to say 'good bye', perhaps wanted to avoid crossing paths with Dualla – Lee assumed bitterly. Then the days followed with ultimate consistency. Consistency was good, it gave some sense of safety.

Just like before – a few hours of sleep, morning run, Major Balder, paperwork, CAG Grey, paperwork, and so on and so on. There was one thing different from the routine Lee had had before his breakdown – daily meetings with Doc Ishay. Not longer than a few minutes usually, but after just a couple of days he started looking forward to them. He realized Ishay was very inexperienced in this field, and she probably was consulting with Cottle in some, known-only-to-her, way. But she was trying, and her unyielding faith in Lee Adama made up for her lack of knowledge.

There were the usual dinners with his father and the Tighs, only now Lee brought Anastasia with him more and more often. Although Bill Adama sometimes requested to meet with his son alone. Somehow it was nice, gave the impression of family bonding, on the other hand it was difficult to put a good face on some subjects his father wanted to discuss. Sometimes Lee came back from those meetings exhausted, as if he'd fought a battle with eight cylon raiders. Luckily those dinners didn't happen all that often.

He never spoke with Dualla about the incident in the head, or about that particular dinner in general. For the first few weeks she eyed him oddly whenever he buckled his holster. She probably thought he didn't notice the sideways glances, but he did. A firearm was a part of the uniform though, and he was bound to have it with him during service hours.

He didn't feel tempted to use it. Never again, not in that way. He could not understand what had gotten into him back then, but he preferred not to think about it – it was too difficult. The only moments he allowed himself to open up were those minutes with the Doc. Apparently Layne Ishay was the only person he could open his mind to. But it was her job... after all.

The medications she gave him were helping too. He started feeling much calmer, was able to enjoy things he used to like before – physical exertion, or even simple contact with other people. He found it easier to concentrate at command tasks, and finally he was even able to grant Major Balder permission to go for shore leave to New Caprica. She'd filed the request before he'd fallen apart, and obviously he couldn't afford to let her go when he'd been such a mess. But as he started getting better, he decided to try his luck at commanding the Beast single-handedly. She objected of course, but was so tempted by fresh air and the skyline, she didn't really need much pushing. So Commander Adama stayed alone at the top for a few days.

Unfortunately, antidepressants have some less likable side-effects, too. There were days, or rather nights, when he couldn't find pleasure in physical closeness with Anastasia. He'd feel her climax, sometimes more than once, while he'd only get more and more tired. Finally he would stop and she would whisper, "It's okay," while stroking his back. "It's okay, next time will be better." And the next time sometimes was better, and sometimes wasn't. But he hated her saying it.

"It's just a side-effect. Ishay said something like that could happen."

Yes, she did. She also said he might feel sleepy, or agitated, lose or gain weight. And when he looked at himself in the mirror he hated what he saw. He hated that his face was changing, swelling, he hated that he was losing his build, all traces of the pilot he once had been – vanishing.

He hated his slowness. Sometimes he thought that in this department, efficiency at work, the medications were doing more harm than good. Or maybe it was because Major Balder wasn't present? Tons of reports after reports - under reports, over reports. It was all making him mad at the world all over again. And on nights like this, after hardly satisfying love-making with his girlfriend, when he knew he would not fall asleep easily, he sat on the couch and read, wrote, thought and sighed heavily from time to time.

"What so troublesome?" There came a quiet voice from the doorway. Dualla was standing there, clad in her tank-top and sweatpants with a blanket over her shoulders. "Need a hand?"

So he gave her some of the reports to read. They sat up long that night and the next night too, and the next. Dee even worked on some stuff in her off shift time. Eventually most of the overload was resolved, and Lee felt grand relief, knowing that he was not going to face his XO looking like he couldn't cope with all the bureaucracy.

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t.b.c.