"All right, Kara, what's going on? Why all the secrecy?" Sam demanded as soon as she crossed the threshold. She didn't respond at first, brushing past him and crossing their cramped living quarters until she reached the bed. Wearily she dropped down to sit on the edge, her elbows resting on her knees.
"You may as well sit down, it's kind of a long story," she suggested as she watched him pace angrily across the crowded room.
Frustrated, he stalked over to the stack of crates that served as their dinner table and grabbed hold of one of the rickety wooden chairs that sat around it. Swinging it around so the back of it pointed towards her, he sat down, his legs straddling the sides of it while his crossed arms rested along the top of the backrest. "Okay, I'm sitting. Talk."
Her head drooped down until it rested in her hands for a moment, as though she were gathering her thoughts, carefully choosing which words to say to him. Without raising her head, her hands shifted, carefully smoothing back the strands of hair that had escaped her pony tail. At last she met his eyes.
"It all started a long time ago, back before I had any idea you and the others were still alive on Caprica. We'd captured a Cylon spy and had him imprisoned on the Galactica. He went by the name of Leobon Conroy, and I was given illustrious task of interrogating him."
"Why you?"
"I don't know, maybe the Commander liked the way I could get a man to talk to me," she tried to joke.
"I thought you were a pilot. Didn't they have people who knew what they were doing to do the interrogation work?"
"Hey, I knew what I was doing," she protested. "And it's not like we had a whole lot of specially trained interrogators on board either!" It pissed her off more than she wanted to admit that he would doubt her abilities. She could do anything she put her mind to doing, he should know that. She'd come back to rescue him from Caprica hadn't she?
"But why you? A pilot."
"So I was a pilot. I also played sniper on occasion when the situation warranted it and I excelled at being an all around pain in the ass. What better choice for an interrogator than someone who can annoy the hell out of anyone, prisoners included, until they spill their guts just to get you to shut the frak up?"
"Okay! Point taken," he conceded with a short laugh, waving his hands up as though warding off any incoming blows she may feel like sending his way. "I still don't get what any of that has to do with where you were."
"Well if you'd be patient and quit interrupting me to ask all these dumb questions I'd get to that."
"Okay, no more questions. At least until you're through anyway."
She rolled her eyes at him, shaking her head before continuing. "I was a real hard ass with him, during the questioning I mean. I kept saying over and over how he was a machine, that he wasn't human. And I dished out the abuse, beatings, near drowning, withholding food, anything I could think of that would break a normal human." She looked away as she made that last admission, as if she were uncomfortable with the thoughts that were now filling her mind.
"But in the end, I realized that I'd done it all wrong."
"Wha….How so?" he asked, breaking his vow of not asking questions while she spoke in less than five minutes. But he still couldn't quite grasp what she was trying to convey to him.
"I did things that would break a normal human, but he wasn't a human. I kept calling him a machine, the whole time I was doing it I called him a machine, but after he was gone I realized that it was more for my benefit than to demoralize him."
"I don't understand."
"I did it as a way to keep reminding myself that he wasn't human, because he sure acted like one. And he bled like one. And he had the same fear of dying that we all do."
"He was still the enemy."
"Maybe. But somehow he knew me, Sam, he really knew me," she stressed. "He knew my weaknesses. He probably knew when I started softening up towards him, not that I ever let on. I'd cut a deal with him to give us information in exchange for his continued existence. That was his big fear, you know. That he wasn't close enough to one of those resurrection ships to be able to download if his physical body was lost."
"Sounds reasonable."
"But President Roslin didn't think so. He was the enemy. A spy at best, a terrorist at worst. She jettisoned him out of the airlock like he was already dead. And I just stood there and watched," she told him, a far away look in her eyes. She wasn't even looking at him anymore, her head turned slightly towards the doorway. For a minute Sam wondered if she was picturing the Cylon disappearing out into the blackness of space all over again.
"What then? If he was killed, I mean."
"We didn't really have any way of knowing whether or not he was really dead. Were the Cylons close enough to download to a new body and stuff like that."
"I'm still lost here. What does any of that have to do with where you were at? What, did he suddenly materialize here?" Sam joked. His laughter slowly slipped away as he caught sight of the pained expression on her face.
"That's it, isn't it? He's here on New Caprica."
"Yes."
"And that's who you were with?"
"Yes."
"By the gods, Kara, why?"
She stood up, unzipping her jacket and shrugging out of it. She tossed it onto the bed before reaching for her shirt, jerking it upwards. "Remember this, Sam?" She gestured towards the fading scar on the lower left side of her abdomen. "My little souvenir from my days as a guest at the farm, courtesy of some Cylon."
He nodded, reaching out his hand to run a lone finger along the pale ridge the scar had become. "He did this to you?" he asked, barely concealed rage filling his voice.
"No. I don't know. Maybe. I don't think so," she said, uncertain of anything at this point. "But he came to me not long after they invaded. We did our usual verbal fencing and I didn't see him again ….not until the other night when Cally went into labor."
"What'd he want?"
"He's playing some sort of game, asking me questions about my childhood and frakked up stuff like that."
"So why are you playing along?"
"He told me if I answered his questions he'd tell me what they did to me. Like I said, Sam, he knows me, knows I wouldn't give up the opportunity to find out what those bastards did."
"And you really think he'll tell you what you want to know?"
"I don't know. But I'm willing to risk it."
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"How could you do it, sir?" an angry Helo asked, suddenly filling the old man's vision as he crossed the room to Sharon's detention cell.
"It was the President's decision…."
"Frak the President! I'm asking you, how could you take my child! How could you let me think she was dead?" Helo's voice broke slightly, remembering the heartbreak of seeing that tiny unmoving body before his eyes all over again.
"It wasn't my choice, son," William responded, reaching out to lay a comforting hand on the younger man's shoulder. Helo flinched away and Adama's hand fell limply to his side once more.
"You could have stopped it," Helo insisted.
"You're right, I could have," William admitted meeting Helo's eyes. "But I chose to go along with President Roslin's decision. She was right, son. A prison cell was no place for a child to be raised."
"She didn't have to be raised in a cell."
Ignoring Helo's statement, William continued, "And there was no guarantee she'd be safe anywhere else. Not on this ship, not on any other ship in the fleet."
"Sharon would never have hurt our child."
William sighed, gesturing towards the cells where the two Brother Cavils sat watching. "There were spies among us, there could still be more. Ask yourself what they would have done if the information had gotten out to the general population that a human-Cylon hybrid child existed. Then ask yourself why they're so determined to get their hands on such a child."
"You think I haven't thought about that?"
"Now ask yourself what your own people would have done to them if Sharon had been allowed to roam free on the ship with her hybrid child."
His words caught Helo off guard; he'd been prepared for anything but that line of reasoning. He couldn't deny it was possible that one of his own people could have caused Sharon and Hera harm. He'd heard the story about how Cally had killed the other Sharon, the one he'd worked with all those months before the invasion, the one he'd thought had come back to Caprica to save him. And if a cupcake like Cally was capable of shooting an unarmed, bound prisoner who'd once been her shipmate at point blank range, there was no telling what a real soldier would have been willing to do.
Watching the play of emotions crossing the other man's face, William made the attempt to reach out to him once more. "I understand how you feel, son," he said, squeezing Helo's shoulder. This time the pilot didn't pull away. "I've lost a child of my own before, and I know that nothing can ever erase the pain. But you're going to get the opportunity to see yours again, the Gods willing; when we get to New Caprica you'll see her again. I promise you that."
Still the younger man remained silent, his mind reeling. Everything had been so simple when he'd climbed from his bunk that morning, now he felt as though his entire world had been turned upside down yet again. Gathering his thoughts he spoke.
"I want her out of that cell."
"It still might not be safe for her among the general crew," William protested. "There's hardly a person left in the fleet who doesn't have someone, family or friend, whose fate on New Caprica is still uncertain. They could look towards harming the pris….harming Sharon as a means of retribution," he added.
"I want her out of that cell."
"When we're closer to New Caprica, it'll be safer for her then. We'll be more focused on our strategy for a counter attack."
"Now."
Lee had remained silent, choosing to listen to the confrontation up until now. To a certain degree he agreed with his father about Sharon's safety among the crew being a questionable thing. But he also agreed with Helo to an extent too, she'd been a prisoner long enough. How could they expect her to help them when they so obviously weren't showing any willingness to trust her? He made his decision. "We'll take her back to the Pegasus with us."
"Lee…"
"We're going back to New Caprica, you already said as much," Lee pointed out. "What difference does it matter which battlestar she travels on?"
The two men sized each other up like a couple of opponents in a boxing ring. William was surprised he hadn't anticipated this move from his son. It was typical Lee though, going against his father's wishes.
"Sergeant!" William called out to the Duty Sergeant. "I want you to escort the prisoner to my quarters. I wish to speak with her."
He strode towards the word without so much as a word to his son or Helo. As he reached the door he heard Helo mumbling something into the receiver, then the sound of it being returned to its cradle. Two pairs of footsteps hurried after him, but still he didn't speak until they stepped out into the corridor with him.
"I want to speak to Sharon alone. You two can wait in ready room. If she chooses to accompany you back to the Pegasus we'll meet you there. If not, I'll send word."
"But sir.."
"That's an order Captain Agathon," the Admiral said, deciding it was time to pull rank. He assumed Helo would argue further, but to his amazement the pilot turned on his heel instead and stalked away, anger showing in every step.
"What do you have to use against her besides her child?" Lee asked quietly, fighting the urge to follow after his friend. These were some things that took precedence, even over the need to offer solace to a friend.
"Nothing."
"Okay, I'll bite. What makes you so certain she'll choose to stay on the Galactica?" Lee knew his father, there had to be something the old man was holding back from them.
"I believe I gave you an order, Commander."
Lee nodded grudgingly. He wasn't the only one who resorted to military rank and protocol when he was upset it seemed.
"One hour. Then we'll be joining you in your quarters."
"I said…."
"I know what your orders were. And I'm telling you I have premeditated designs to disobey. You have one hour to talk to her alone, then we're joining you."
"Premeditated designs?"
Lee smiled. "I guess Kara rubbed off on me a little more than I remembered. If you don't like it, you could always toss me in the Brigg."
Fighting back his own grin William retorted, "You're cutting into my hour here Commander."
The two men parted, each heading in the opposite direction. They would have been shocked to learn that they both shared one common thought as they did. What the hell was William going to say to Sharon once he had her alone?
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"Her color's looking better, isn't it, Doc?" Chief Tyrol asked for about hundredth time since the old doctor had arrived in their tent, equipment in hand, for a last ditch effort to keep Cally from joining her baby.
"Perhaps. It's really too early to say for certain," the old man answered cautiously. He checked the unconscious woman's pulse and was relieved to see that it seemed stronger. She had a long way to go before she was out of danger though.
"I think she looks a little better," the Chief announced, as though saying it enough times would make it happen. He stroked his hand across her cheek gently; her face was still as pale as the sheets she lay upon, despite his proclamations to the contrary. "Where'd you get all these supplies from? I don't remember seeing them before."
"They were scattered about on some of the ships. An anonymous friend collected them for me today." Although it was on the tip of his tongue to tell Galen the truth, Doc Cottle thought wiser of it. Maybe if Cally pulled through he could tell the devastated man that he owed his wife's life to a Cylon. In the meantime, the Chief's hatred of the Cylons went too deep, he'd never believe that Sharon willingly offered her help. She was just another Cylon after all.
Sharon. She still thought of herself as one of the humans, of that the old doctor had little doubt. And it was clear to him that she had memories of her life among them on board the Galactica, her death too most likely. Yet her memories now lived on in a brand new body. Memories that were strong enough to make her feel as though she'd lived through every minute that the other Sharon had.
Was that what drove her now? Guilt over her own involuntary acts of sabotage that had lead to the deaths of people she'd thought of as her friends. Guilt over how her own attempted suicide had ended in failure. Guilt over her assassination attempt on the Admiral, a man who'd seemed very much like a father figure to her.
Did she think a single act of kindness, saving the life of her own murderer, would be enough to assuage her guilt? Or was this only a shadow of things to come?
"Doc?" Galen's voice asked, breaking through the physician's musings.
"I'm sorry, I'm afraid I didn't hear you. I was thinking about what our best course of treatment would be," he fibbed.
"I just asked who the anonymous friend is. I'd really like to thank them; they took a lot of risk sneaking that equipment out from under the toasters."
"They're not looking for gratitude. They just want to help."
"Why won't you tell me who it is?"
"Our good Samaritan prefers to remain anonymous."
Galen was silent. Sitting down beside his wife he softly brushed the hair from Cally's face as he pondered what the old doctor was trying to hide from him. If he hadn't lost his faith in the Gods, what with the revelation that Brother Cavil was a Cylon agent and all, he'd have been praying to them to spare his wife. And for retribution against their Cylon captors. He wanted nothing short of the death of all Cylon kind. Humanity had suffered enough at their hands.