Those Who Lift Each Other

by lls-mutant

When the Cylons attacked, the kids of New Directions were on board the Cybele, on their way to the All-Colony Show Choir Competition. Now they're members of the Fleet, being chased by the Cylons and trying to deal with the day-to-day struggles of a life after the worlds end.

11. Something To Be Proud Of

"He's a Cylon! Get him!"

Answering shrieks pierced the air, and Mike went down as someone jumped on his back. Another enthusiastic attacker grabbed his arm, and someone sat on his legs. "Kill the Cylon!" He was bludgeoned with a teddy bear, so he started twitching, making his best choking-on-my-own-tongue dying noises. Finally, he flopped his hands down, closed his eyes and lay still.

"KILL THE CYLON!"

"Wait!" Mike rolled to the side just in time to avoid a particularly vicious blow. "I'm already dead!"

Jacob, the five-year-old leader of the Resistance, stared at Mike suspiciously, teddy bear at the ready. "Then why are you talking?"

"Why am I talking?"

"Yeah. If you're dead, you shouldn't be talking."

"He's dead," Jacob's right-hand-girl Muna said. "If Mike says he's dead, he's dead."

"But he's talking."

Mike grinned. "That's because… I resurrected!" He jumped to his feet and growled, the delighted Resistance squealed and ran again, and the battle was on.

The PA system squawked, and Artie's voice came on the line. "Condition One has been set throughout the Fleet," he announced. "Prepare to jump."

The Cylons had found them for real. The kids all went still, the fun immediately draining out of the game. Mike looked across the room to where Tina was occupied feeding Blaine, and she smiled grimly at him. He smiled back, and then scooped up Tara, the smallest of his pursuers. "Come on, guys. Let's read our book, shall we?" The kids pressed a little closer to him, and Mike had a hard time not stumbling as he walked to his chair.

The book was one that he and Tina had put together the first time around, when they'd had an entire nursery of kids, not just five. They'd found pictures of various military members and space crafts, and put together stories of heroism and bravery. The book had been required every Cylon attack for the first few months, but gradually, the kids had gotten used to it. After all, when the ships jumped, nothing really happened until the Galactica jumped back into formation. They knew they were safe. This time, with the memories of New Caprica in their minds, safety didn't seem so guaranteed.

He settled Tara on his lap. Jacob claimed one side and Muna the other, and there was enough room for Linmei and Peter at his feet. Mike could feel Jacob shaking, and as he opened the book he managed to get one hand free to stroke his hair. He made his voice even more gentle and calm as he read the book.

The minutes ticked by. Mike finished the book and smoothly flipped back to the beginning and started it again. Tina finished feeding Blaine, but rather than setting him down to crawl around, she cradled him against her, rocking him back and forth as she listened to Mike read.

Mike found his gaze lingering on a picture of a Viper pilot. It was strange to think that Santana was just climbing out of her Viper (he hoped), and that the others- what did the others do during an attack? He looked at the kids. Not reading, that was for sure. He pushed the thought out of his head, especially as Jacob snuggled closer.

Finally, the PA system crackled to life again. "Condition Three has been set throughout the Fleet." Mike and Tina exchanged relieved glances. Mike hadn't realized how tense his shoulders were until he sighed, setting the book down slowly and letting all of the air out of his lungs. The kids relaxed a little, too, but most of them stayed nestled firmly against Mike's sides, except Muna, who immediately capitalized on the fact that Tina had a free hand and went over to cuddle against her. The kids' faces were all drawn and worried, and Mike was quite sure there would be a few nightmares tonight.

He began singing, starting low and slow. Tina joined in, her clear voice carrying the melody of a simple, soothing lullaby. The music worked, and a few songs later they gradually started singing more cheerful songs. Another ritual they'd been using for over two years, bringing the kids out of their fear through music. By the end, the kids were happy to play again, although the game of Mike the Cylon was avoided and they settled down to a board game missing half the original pieces instead.

"Is Blaine okay?" Mike asked Tina when he had a moment.

"Blaine's fine. He's too young to understand what's going on," Tina said, and is if to illustrate her point, Blaine decided to try to pull himself up using his father's pants for support. When Mike looked down, Blaine was bouncing at the knees and gurgling up at him triumphantly. "I'm glad," Tina continued, smiling down at their son. "I don't look forward to the day we have to explain what 'set Condition One throughout the Fleet' means."

"Maybe we won't have to," Mike said hopefully. "Maybe we'll have found Earth by then."

"Hope so." Tina smiled at him then moved towards the table. "All right! It's just about time for a snack! Everybody line up to wash their hands."

Reading the book, singing the songs, some play time and snack. Just like every other Cylon attack, just like most afternoons. It was comforting in some way to be here with these kids and know that life still went on.

***

Without a doubt, Blaine was the most beautiful thing Mike had ever seen. He had round cheeks, big dark eyes, a thick thatch of dark hair, and soft, smooth skin, and when he smiled, he had the most adorable dimples ever. He was perfect. He was also now mobile, and that made him a force to be reckoned with.

"Where you going, buddy?" Mike caught Blaine before he pulled up to grab a shiny tube. "Kurt had better learn to keep his goop out of the way, or he's going to find you finger painting with it on the walls." He tossed the rescued tube up onto Kurt's bunk, which was a second level bunk and well out of Blaine's reach. Then he found a more appropriate toy and dangled it in Blaine's reach. Blaine duly ignored it and started groping his way along the bed, undoubtedly headed for something else dangerous. Mike sighed. This room was not the easiest place to keep track of his son. But the daycare was closed for the day, and this was one of his few options.

Mike had just gotten Blaine settled for a nap in their bunk when the door slammed open and Artie and Rachel came through. "I'm just saying," Artie said, "that it's going to be even harder to get everybody together now. It's not like it was before."

"Nonsense," Rachel said, dismissing Artie's concern with a wave of her hand. "Everyone is going to want to do it."

"It's not about wanting to do it," Artie said with an exasperated sigh. "It's that none of us are in the same position that we were a year ago. Even you! You're not just doing little fluff pieces at two in the morning."

"And that's why we're getting this opportunity- because I'm not a nobody anymore. They listen to me now, Artie."

"No, it's because there's some political agenda, and they want a message of togetherness and hope. That's always when they have us sing."

Mike's ears perked up. "Someone wants us to sing again?"

"Yes." Rachel glared at Artie with a see? sort of expression, and then looked up at Mike. "I got a call from Ms. Foster. President Roslin's aide."

"And President Roslin's not asking us to sing for political reasons at all," Artie muttered.

Rachel ignored him. "They're doing a special tribute."

"To us?" Mike asked, confused.

"Not to us," Artie said. "A special 'hey, it's been a couple of months since New Caprica' thing."

"They're not calling it that," Rachel said primly. "It's a Colonial Day special."

A Colonial Day special. Right. "So a special 'hey, it's been a couple of months since New Caprica' thing," Mike said to Artie. Rachel stomped her foot in frustration, but smiled when Mike shrugged and said, "I'm definitely in."

"I knew you would be. See?" she said, turning to Artie. "I told you!"

"Mike's not the one I was worried about," Artie said, completely unconvinced. "It's the others. Santana's a full lieutenant, Mercedes is a petty officer and in the CIC, Finn's on duty all the time, and Lauren's on a tight leash for a while as a new Marine. Kurt's the aide to the Vice President, not a Quorum member, Quinn's handling a lot of cases on her own, you've moved up the press corps, and I'm-"

"Practically the Cybele co-captain, I've heard it," Rachel said with a weary sigh.

"Right. So Mike and Tina were the least of our worries."

"Hey," Mike said, trying to ignore the pang that that comment gave him, "we've got a baby, remember?"

Artie didn't miss a beat. "Right. Rachel, it was hard enough to get us all together before New Caprica. Now it's going to be next to impossible. And we don't have costumes anymore, or anything to make them from. And I'm the only one who still has a guitar."

"We'll see," Rachel said, as if none of that mattered. "We'll be singing at Colonial Day again. Just you wait."

***

No one was as determined as Rachel Berry when she wanted to get her way. Within a week, objections had been steam-rolled and New Directions was finally able to get both a rehearsal room and the entire group present. It also took all of ten minutes for the discussion about their set list to descend into a squabble over who was singing what. It was kind of like tradition and Mike wasn't going to have any sort of solo anyway (not that he minded, really), so instead of listening to the battle, he sat down on the floor next to Sam. Sam was watching with that same I'd rather not deal with this expression that Mike was feeling.

"Even after New Caprica, Rachel, Mercedes, Kurt, and Santana still duke it out for the solos," Sam said. "I can't decide if it's depressing that nothing's changed, or if I'm glad."

"If it hasn't changed by now, it never will." Mike would never admit that it was actually comforting. "So how've you been? I haven't seen you much since we got back up here."

"It's crazy, man," Sam said, leaning back on his hands. "There's some big problems on the Daru Mozu. They thought they could get some of the line equipment back up, but it got damaged during the exodus from New Caprica. It might have to be shut down, or transitioned over to something besides tylium refining. Carole's been trying to convince them to turn it into a recycling line, and I think she's right, but it's crazy."

"That sucks." Mike chewed on his lip for a minute, not sure of how to phrase it, and then dove in anyway. "Listen, Tina and I were wondering… have you given any more thought to having a funeral for Rya?"

Sam's face hardened. "No."

"It's just that with her parents dead there's no one else and she really-"

"No." Sam cut him off with more force. Mike wondered just how far he should push. On the one hand, Sam's refusal was… well, it was kind of creepy. They'd been off New Caprica for over two months, and Rya really deserved a proper burial. On the other hand, if it was Mike and he was mourning Tina, maybe he'd be doing the same thing? He really didn't know. So he bit his tongue, because it was really clear Sam didn't want to argue about it. Even though Mike thought he might really need to.

"Yo." Puck sat down in between Sam and Mike, conveniently cutting off any further conversation. "Where's the Blainster?"

"I left him with Burt. Can you get over to the Cybele after this? He'd love to see you."

"No can do. I've got duty. Which brings me to my next question." Puck draped his arms around Mike's and Sam's shoulders. "When are you guys getting your asses over to the Galactica?"

Sam groaned and shoved Puck's arm off. "Give it up, Puck. I'm not enlisting. They wouldn't take me anyway, all right?"

"Why not? You'd be awesome!" Puck pounded Sam's bicep.

"I'd be terrible." Sam glanced over his shoulder. "I'm going to go catch up with Artie." He staggered to his feet and headed off without so much as a backward glance.

"What crawled up his ass?" Puck asked.

Mike shrugged. "He just lost his wife. That could make anyone cranky."

"Yeah, but they only got married because of that pregnancy thing," Puck said, still watching Sam.

Mike sighed irritably. "I keep telling you it wasn't like that at all. And even if it was, Sam's still upset."

"Yeah, I know." Puck waved it off. "Besides, it's you I don't get. You've got a wife and a kid that you love. You should be on the front lines."

Mike looked over at Tina, who was standing next to Mercedes and arguing with Rachel and Finn. She was flushed and irritated, but when she caught Mike watching her, she flashed a quick smile. He smiled back. "I've got a job, Puck," he said finally.

Puck snorted. "Watching kids."

"Yes."

"So? There are like a million teenage girls who could do that shit."

"Really?" Mike was used to Puck being obtuse, but this kind of took the cake.

Puck realized what he'd said, too, and heaved a huge sigh as he rolled his eyes. "Okay, so not a million, but you know what I mean. Lots of people can do that."

Mike shrugged. "Lots of people can fire guns, too."

"I'm just saying-"

"All right!" Quinn's voice interrupted them, rising above the general squabbling. "So we'll open with 'My Love Is Your Love' and we'll close with 'We Are Young', and we'll work the middle song out when everyone doesn't have superior officers breathing down their necks. Is that acceptable?"

"Why aren't you bugging her to be in the military?" Mike asked Puck.

"You think I want her as my superior officer? You know she would be, and then my life would be hell." Puck got to his feet and reached down to give Mike a hand up. "Look, just think about it, okay? We really could use you."

"I'll think about it," Mike muttered. Puck grinned widely and punched him in the arm, and Mike tried to smile back. Puck had been taking like this since the attacks first happened- he should be used to this by now. So why did he feel so uncertain all of a sudden?

***

"The thing is," he told Tina later that night as he picked up the nursery, "Puck's got a point."

"No he doesn't," Tina said, not looking up from the paperwork she was doing. Blaine was sleeping on a pile of blankets near her feet.

"Yes he does. Ever since we got back on the ships and everyone got shifted around, there's only six kids on the Cybele." He looked around at the room they were using as a daycare. It wasn't the same room they'd used before New Caprica, and there were even fewer toys and no climbing bars. All of that stuff had been left on the planet.

"I know." Tina sighed and put her pen down. "I was kind of meaning to talk to you about that." Mike's stomach twisted into knots, and he raised his eyebrows in acknowledgement. Tina went on. "I've been thinking… maybe we should look into moving ships."

That surprised Mike. "Moving ships?"

"Moving ships. Look… I know all our friends are here, and I don't like the idea either. But like you said, there are six kids on this ship, and one of them is ours. We could apply to work in one of the bigger daycares, and maybe we could even get better quarters." She bit her lip and twisted her pen. "It would hurt, but it might be best for Blaine."

Mike sighed, turning a doll over in his hands. "I don't know…."

"I know we might not be able to, and that our application might be rejected. But we should consider our options."

"Well," Mike didn't want to say it, but he had to, "if we're talking about options, what about me serving on the Galactica?"

"Just because Puck suggested it?" Tina asked skeptically. "Puck's always thought that everyone has to join the military."

"Not just because of that. Just because Puck said it doesn't mean that it's not true. I mean, why should I not be serving? Finn's out there. So's Puck."

"And Mercedes and Santana," Tina added firmly. "But everyone else isn't." She stood up and came over and wrapped her arms around Mike. "Look. If you want to serve in the military, let's talk about it. I'm not crazy about the idea, but I can accept it, if it's something you feel you need to do. But don't let Puck guilt you into it. I don't know if the military needs you, but I do know that Blaine and I do."

Mike kissed her. "Thanks," he said holding her close. "That helped."

"I'm glad." Tina smiled then detangled herself from his embrace and went back to her work. Mike turned back to cleaning up the nursery. Not because he was so eager for the work, but because he didn't want Tina to see that he was lying.

***

It should have been quieter tonight in the New Directions room. They were down to eleven people living there, thirteen on the rare times that Carole and Sam were off the Daru Mozu. But eleven was still a lot of people making noise. And whenever someone moved the framework of the bunks shook. They'd all gotten used to it before New Caprica, but after a year in their own tents, it was a lot harder to deal with.

Tonight Burt was thrashing in his sleep. Mike lay on his back, staring up at the bunk above him, praying desperately that Blaine would sleep through this. It didn't look promising; Blaine was already starting to stir. Mike glanced over and saw Tina's open eyes reflecting the scant light. He sighed and she shrugged, an unspoken communication that they were going to have a long night.

There was a soft thud as Kurt slid out of an upper bunk and landed on the floor. He crept over to where Burt was sleeping and gingerly reached out a hand. Although everyone who was awake expected it, Burt's shout when Kurt touched him still startled them all. It certainly startled Blaine out of his restless sleep and into a bout of crying. Mike sighed, scooped him up, and began walking the floor, bouncing him and trying to calm him down.

"Kurt?" Burt's eyes were wild and disoriented, but Kurt knelt down in front of him.

"I'm here, Dad," he said softly, taking Burt by the arms. "I'm here."

Mike looked away. Nightmares were pretty common again ever since New Caprica, and Burt, Kurt, and Sam seemed to be the worst. Mike could handle Kurt and Sam, but watching Burt come undone unnerved him, and watching Kurt comfort his father just seemed too… personal. He focused on Blaine, trying to get him to calm down.

The noise was too much for Quinn, and she sat up. "I don't mean to be rude," she said, in a voice that implied anything but, "but I have surgery tomorrow morning. Would it be possible to keep it down?" Her glare was like ice, and Mike couldn't really blame her. He nodded sheepishly and took Blaine out into the hall. The lights out there only made Blaine cry more, but at least he could walk him further down or to the bathrooms, where he'd disturb fewer people.

It took a half hour for Blaine to calm down enough that Mike thought he'd go back to sleep. By the time he returned to the New Directions room, Kurt and Burt were gone, Mr. Schuester was arguing with Sue, Tina was tearfully apologizing to Quinn for the disturbance, and Artie was trying to sleep with his pillow over his head. Coach Beiste managed to stay asleep, or maybe she was just really good at faking it. Mike wouldn't blame her.

He slid back into bed, Blaine on his lap, and waited for the others to finally realize it was still three in the morning and it was time to go back to sleep. It took a good twenty minutes for everyone to reach that conclusion, except for Kurt and Burt, who were still missing. Tina slid in, and it was another twenty minutes before Blaine fell back asleep, cuddled in between them. Mike wanted to sleep, but he knew that there were only a couple of hours now before he had to be up. He sighed and tried to get comfortable, knowing that deep sleep was a lost cause. Like it was so many nights these days.

Tina was right. It might be time to start thinking about somewhere else. And even though he didn't like thinking about it, he wasn't going to rule out Galactica in his search.

***

The next rehearsal for Colonial Day started out better than the first. Mercedes had managed to find them a storage bay on Galactica, which meant that she, Puck, Finn, Santana, and Lauren could stay for an extra half-hour. They had a set list. And although Mike and Tina had had to bring Blaine with them, Puck had confiscated him so quickly that they might as well have been without him.

As Mercedes and Artie ran through the beginning of their song, Mike started mapping out some of the basic choreography. That was when it hit him. No Brittany. The realization made him sit down in the middle of the room. He'd been at Brittany's funeral, he'd known she was dead for over two months now, but all of a sudden, it just hit him hard.

"Mike?" Tina asked. "Are you okay?"

He nodded, mainly because he wasn't sure if he should say anything. If everyone else was moving on, wasn't it better to let them? The others all went back to the song, and Mike took a deep breath. This wasn't the time or place to think about it. He got himself under control and stood up, starting again with the choreography and forcing himself to think only of dancing.

He was showing the steps to Kurt and Santana when the door opened. Both of them snapped to attention. Mike looked curiously to see who had entered, and immediately straightened up himself. Laura Roslin didn't announce her presence. It took a minute for the others to realize that she was there, finally solidified by someone whispering, "It's the President, idiot!" and whacking Puck upside the head. Silence fell over the room, with some people at strict attention and others just standing respectfully, uncertain of what to do.

"Don't stop on my account," President Roslin said, smiling. "I love hearing all of you sing." She leaned against the wall, making it clear that they were to continue.

Rachel recovered first. "All right," she said. "Let's take it from the top!" She glanced at Roslin for permission, and Roslin nodded slightly.

It was nerve-wracking to sing for just the President, especially since they were all aware that they were being evaluated. Mike knew they shouldn't be nervous- what the President was looking for was her own message and agenda- but it was still impossible not to be extremely aware of the fact that she was in the room. He was very conscious of his dancing in a way that he hadn't been in years, but overall, the songs went well.

"It's still very rough," Rachel said hastily as soon as the last note faded. "We will be working on it more, and I assure you it will be up to the quality that you expect from us and-"

"It was lovely," President Roslin said, smiling slightly. She looked at the assembled group, her smile fading. "What happened to the blonde girl? The one that could really dance?"

Rachel swallowed. "She died, ma'am. On New Caprica."

"Because of a suicide bomber," Santana added bitterly.

Roslin winced. "I'm terribly sorry to hear that. She was a marvelous dancer, and I'm sure it must be a loss for you all."

Santana lifted her chin, her eyes flashing. "You were in the Resistance, weren't you?"

President Roslin met Santana's angry gaze. "Yes." The word was obviously difficult for her. "And while we did what we had to do, that does not mean that what we did was inherently right." A spasm of emotion crossed her face, and made Mike wonder just how she felt about those suicide bombers. But she regained her composure. "What was her name?"

"Brittany Pierce."

"I see." Roslin turned to face all of New Directions. "The bond of loss is one that we all share. We have all lost loved ones on this journey, and we continue to mourn them. As much as I want this Colonial Day celebration to focus on the future and on hope, it would be remiss of me to ignore the past. I think it would be lovely if, in your numbers, you included some sort of tribute for Brittany."

"I'm sure we can do that, Madame President," Rachel began. "We have several songs that suit the occasion." Santana didn't speak up, but Mike saw the glare she shot at Rachel. Roslin either missed it or ignored it, and with a beatific smile, left the room and headed to wherever on Galactica she was going.

"Well," Rachel said, clapping her hands together, "looks like we need to add another number."

"Santana, are you even comfortable with that?" Kurt asked. "I know how difficult it can be to sing about someone you love in front of everyone."

"Yeah, if you're not comfortable with it, we can work something out," Sam said.

Santana looked back and forth between them, and an expression of disgust started spreading across her features. "Don't even think about it."

Kurt cocked his head. "Don't even think about what?"

"Don't even think about making me part of your happy little widows' club," Santana said.

"What happy little widows' club?" Kurt asked, his hackles rising.

"Yeah." Sam's eyes narrowed and his expression tightened. "I'm not a widow."

"Oh, please. Rya is just as dead as Brittany and Blaine." Santana started gathering her things together. "And the last thing I need is to be moping around with you two, figuring out the perfect song to sob into our handkerchiefs on television. I am not doing that in front of the entire Fleet."

Rachel stepped in between them. "If you don't want to sing for Brittany, I'd be honored to do it, Santana."

"I'll bet you would." Santana finished shoving her towel into a bag and then flung it over her shoulder. "Frak you all. I'm out of here." She stormed out, leaving silence behind her. Everyone stared at the door, unsure of what to do or what to say.

"Guess we're done," Sam said. He looked just as grim as Santana as he turned to Rachel. "Tell me when you figure out what that song is going to be so I can learn my part."

"You could sing-"

"No." Sam headed out the door as well.

The joy went out of the rehearsal completely. Rachel still argued about how the show must go on, but everyone else started packing up their things. Mike headed over to where Tina was packing her own bag and knelt down. "Are you planning on arguing this out with Rachel for a bit?" he asked her softly.

"Is it worth it?" Tina shrugged, which wasn't much of an answer. "The bigger argument is going to be getting Blaine back from Puck. I thought I'd handle that. Are you going to find Sam?"

"No. But there was something else I wanted to do."

"I'll make sure Finn doesn't fly us out without you." Tina tipped her face up and kissed him.

Civilians weren't supposed to wander around the upper decks of the Galactica unescorted, so Mike asked Mercedes to take him to the wall he'd heard about but never seen. It wasn't just a wall- it was an entire hallway, completely filled with pictures. Mercedes led Mike to the right spot and then tactfully disappeared, saying she had duty. Mike stood alone, looking at the picture of Brittany.

It was set among other faces he knew- Blaine, Ms. Pillsbury, and Mercedes' family- and it was a good picture of her. It was taken sometime before the attacks and at school, so Brittany was in her cheerleader's uniform with her hair pulled back in a tight ponytail. She was sitting in the choir room, smiling. She looked a lot younger than Mike's most recent memories of her. Lima and Gemenon and McKinley seemed so long ago. Mike reached up and touched the picture.

"You know, you can't feel her boobs through the picture, Boy Chang. Not that I blame you for trying."

Mike yanked his hand back. "Hey, Santana. I'm sorry- I didn't know you were here. I can go."

"Why should you? You were here first." Santana stood beside him and looked up at the picture. "Telling you to get the frak out of here would be like telling you to get the frak out of a cemetery. Even I have limits."

Mike nodded, completely unsure what to say to that. Santana didn't seem to require an answer. "You okay?" he asked finally. "You looked mad in there."

"Of course I'm mad," Santana scoffed. "This tribute thing is going to end up one big pile of bullshit." She sighed at Mike's questioning look. "Look, I get it. A lot of people have been screwed over, and I know that. And I'm sad and pissed off that Brit's dead." Her face spasmed a little on the word. "But I don't want to turn her death into some big symbol for the Fleet, and that's what it's going to be. You've got the hobbit dying to get in there and make her constipated faces as she wails out some over the top diva song that Brittany would have been snickering at in the back of the classroom. You've got Lady Hummel and Trouty Mouth, both of whom are singing about the loves of their lives."

"It's your solo," Mike said. "You could do it the way you want to." He looked back at the picture again. "How do you want to do it?"

"I don't know. Paint the whole stage cotton candy pink or something. Have a bunch of kittens up there. Unicorns and glitter. Anything but me standing in the middle of a stage crying my eyes out. What would you do?"

"I thought about dancing," Mike said, "but it just doesn't feel right without her."

Santana stared at him openmouthed for a moment. "That wasn't what I meant. I meant if it was Tina."

"Oh."

Santana kept staring at him, and Mike shifted uncomfortably under her scrutiny. Finally, she reached a decision. "You'll sing it with me," she ordered.

"Me?"

"Yeah, you," Santana said, her voice matter-of-fact. "We'll do a duet."

"Okay." Mike was far too wise of a man to argue. "What song?"

"I'll figure that out."

Mike nodded. "Just tell me where and when."

Santana smiled one of her rare open, genuine smiles. "Want me to walk you back to the hangar deck?" she asked. "Or did you need to stay a while?"

Mike looked back at the picture on the wall. "Nah, I'll go with you," he said. "Make sure Puck doesn't have my kid shooting guns or something." He wasn't sure what he'd gotten himself into, but he had to admit, he was kind of glad he had.

***

For the most part, Mike felt that the duet was Santana's news to announce, but he did think Tina should hear it from him. The first chance he got to talk to her alone was when they were sitting in the bunk room, Tina working on the new costumes for the group and Mike feeding Blaine. Her reaction wasn't exactly what he expected.

"You're singing with Santana?" she asked incredulously.

Mike raised his eyebrows. "Is something wrong with that?"

"No, not at all. I'm just surprised. I've never heard you and Santana sing together." Tina bit off a thread. "I can't even begin to imagine what it will sound like."

"Gee. Thanks."

"Not like that." Tina shot him a look of fond exasperation. "It's just something I've never heard."

Mike was about to answer when Kurt opened the door. Tina brightened. "Kurt! I've almost got one of the shirts done. Tell me what you think!" She held up a gray, long-sleeved, button-down shirt made from recycled fabric. "I know the color isn't great," Tina continued, "but we were able to get black pants and black ties, and it goes with the dresses."

Kurt's face went dead white. "No."

"What's wrong with it?" Mike asked, looking at Tina's handiwork. "I mean, I know it's not a designer label, but it's what we've got."

"No." Kurt was backing up, shaking his head. "No."

Sam came in, looking extremely tired as he slung a small carry sack off his shoulder. He looked from Kurt to Tina, and a furrow appeared between his brows. "What's going on?"

Tina sighed. "Kurt's freaking out because of the costumes for the Colonial Day celebration." She held the shirt up again. "I know I'm not a designer, but it's a shirt-"

"Yeah. No. I'm not wearing that either." Sam didn't go as pale as Kurt did, but face still looked grim. "That looks way too much like a prison jumpsuit."

"It's not," Mike said. "It's the girls' dresses that are made from the jumpsuits from the Astral Queen. And they're orange."

"It looks like a New Caprican prison jumpsuit," Sam sad curtly, and Mike felt like an idiot for not realizing that. "Kurt?" Sam carefully reached out. When Kurt didn't jerk away, he put his arm around his shoulders. "Come on. Let's go… let's go up to the common area, okay? Get something to eat?" Kurt didn't really agree or disagree, but he led where Sam followed. Tina stared after them, horrified, and then looked at the shirt she'd made.

"It doesn't look that bad," Mike reassured her when Sam's voice couldn't be heard anymore.

"It does. It does look like those jumpsuits." Tina was on the verge of tears. She thrust the shirt away from her as hard as she could. "I can't deal with this!"

Mike blinked in confusion. "Deal with what?"

"This… this walking on eggshells all the time!" Tina stomped her foot in frustration. "This living with ten other people. This constant on top of each other and not being able to breathe real air and not seeing the sky and having ground under my feet and if I even dare say I miss New Caprica, having a hundred people glare at me! This being on the run and Condition Ones and shipboard rations and this being my life! Your life! Blaine's life! I just can't take it! I just want everything to go back to normal!" She broke down and started crying, and Mike wrapped his arms around her. Blaine whimpered and pulled up on Mike's pant leg, wanting in on the affection, but Mike just patted him on the head and hugged Tina, letting her cry until the storm passed.

"I'm sorry," she said, wiping her nose on her sleeve when she was done. "I really shouldn't say that about Kurt or Sam. But I mean it about the rest."

"I know." Mike was tired off all that, too. "Maybe you could talk to someone? Like Kurt does?"

Tina snorted. "Kurt can talk to a therapist because he was a prisoner of war and is the Vice President's aide. I'm just going through the same thing everyone in this Fleet is going through." She sighed. "I think about New Caprica, and I know things were hard. But we went through so little that I don't feel like I can complain." Mike thought about those days when he considered joining the NCP just to get more food for Tina and Blaine and didn't say anything. Tina sighed. "But before the Cylons came, we at least had a chance at our family having a normal life. I just want that again."

"We'll find a way to get it," Mike said, holding her close again. "I promise."

***

The Colonial Day celebration was held on the Zephyr. Although the Zephyr had been a luxury liner before the attack, it wasn't quite the same level as Cloud 9. But it was a lot bigger and a lot nicer than the Cybele, Mike noticed enviously. He sighed and picked up an armload of costumes to carry to their green room.

"So how's training going?" Mike asked Lauren as she scooped up her own load. "They kicking your ass?"

"'Course not. I'm kicking theirs." Lauren's smirk faded. "Nah, it's good. I like it."

"What do you like about it?" Mike asked. "I mean, what's it really like?"

Lauren raised an eyebrow, but unlike Puck, she didn't jump on the question like it was an automatic commitment. "I just like it," she said. "After Caprica, it's really the only thing I can imagine doing. Although it's not what I imagined doing back on Gemenon, I'll tell you that." She snorted.

"What about the quarters?" Mike kicked open the door and hauled their stuff inside.

"Racks, you mean? Just like the Cybele, except at least three of the guys I bunk with snore."

"Oh. What about families? Do they stay in the racks too?"

Lauren's eyes narrowed speculatively as she dropped her pile of dresses on a table and then began to hang them up on a rack. "The rankers get private quarters. The grunts don't. There are family quarters, though, where they put a couple of families in together."

Family quarters, but with other families. Mike wasn't sure if that was better or not.

"You know, though," Lauren continued, brushing the wrinkles out of a dress, "most recruits aren't Marines. The Marines are pretty frakking picky about who they take, and they only took me because of Caprica. And there are a lot of pilots already, especially when there are only so many ships for them to fly."

"So what else do people do?"

She shrugged. "Man the cannons, deal with the other weapons systems on board. Or they work on the deck. Half the knuckledraggers haven't picked up a gun this whole time. Or they do shit like clean the head or man the galley or do the laundry. Which the ship needs, so it's good someone's around to do it."

"Think I could hack it in the Marines?" Mike asked, his voice deceptively light.

"No." Lauren was blunt. "Oh, you've got some mad skills and you could keep up with the training, I'll give you that. But you couldn't handle it. You're like Anderson." Mike blinked, and Lauren heaved a sigh. "You can't take it, all the stuff you have to do when you're a soldier. That's not a bad thing. But it's not you." She thumped him on the shoulder and headed off to help with something else.

Mike stood by the costumes for a long moment, pretty sure he was offended. But at the same time, he and Tina had given their baby the name Blaine for a reason. Mike respected Blaine, and he'd heard enough of Lauren's stories to know that she… didn't. Not really. He wasn't sure how he felt about that.

"Is everything ready?" Kurt appeared at Mike's elbow, making him jump.

"I think so," Mike said. "Unless the President has any last minute changes for us."

"She won't." Kurt was certain. "Her aide's a bit officious, but she is the most organized person you'll ever meet. She's told us everything we need to know."

"Everything we need to know about what?" Puck tossed a bag down.

"The performance. What's in the bag?"

"I've got something for you," Puck said with a sly grin, and then pulled it out with a flourish. Kurt gasped. There were three scarves; one was knit out of a bulky wool, one was soft and filmy and blue, and one was dark green. Kurt stared at them with a strange expression on his face, joy mixed with something sad and bittersweet. Mike assumed it was all about the clothes, but when he looked at Puck, he was watching Kurt with a dark intensity. Kurt saw it, too, and the joy leeched from his face, leaving him looking solemn and uncomfortable.

"Kurt!" Mercedes called to him from across the room, and Kurt snapped out of it. His entire face changed as he scooped the scarves up went over to greet Mercedes, and the two of them started talking a mile a minute. Puck watched them, his expression unreadable.

"They're nice scarves," Mike said, because standing there silent was starting to feel awkward. "Where'd you get them?"

"You really think the black market is out of commission?" Puck asked with a careless shrug. "You can still get just about anything over there, if you're willing to pay."

"Still on the Prometheus?"

"Yeah. Tells you how much the President really objects to it, doesn't it?" Puck grinned. "So. You thinking about going into business or something?"

Mike snorted. "No. But before New Caprica it was the best place to find kids' toys."

"For the Blainester?" Puck looked more interested now.

"Yeah. For Blaine." And for the daycare, but Mike knew better than to say that to Puck. "He's only got two."

"Next time I go over, I'll definitely keep an eye out for stuff for him," Puck promised. He looked positively delighted about the concept. "He's, what, eight months now?"

"Almost, yeah. Thanks, man. I have no idea how hard it would be for me to get over there. I'd owe you one." Mike held out his hand.

Puck slapped it. "No you wouldn't. If it's for Blaine, you owe me nothing. Come on. Let's get moving before Kurt comes and yells at us for not being ready."

***

The performance itself was a blur. Lots of people in the audience, a real stage with lights, and the songs interspersed with speeches and cheering. Mike didn't remember much of it.

The one clear moment he did remember was standing with Santana in the middle of the stage, New Directions behind them as they sang "The Dance" for Brittany. Santana's voice was raspy and emotional, but Mike couldn't remember what he sounded like. There were lights in his eyes and faces before him, but he didn't really see them. But he still remembered that moment, and he knew he always would.

Finally, the ceremony ended and a band took the stage. With music, dancing, and lights, it almost felt like a real party again. Tina had joined a lot of New Directions on the dance floor, but Mike was content to just sit on the sidelines for a while. He and Santana had found a small, high table, and were sitting at it watching the rest of the party.

"This beer sucks." Santana pushed the glass a little further away from her on the table.

"At least it's beer," Mike said, but he couldn't help agreeing with her. Wheat and barley and whatever else went into beer was a distant memory, and the liquid they were drinking was just not the same. But it was still rare enough in the Fleet that Mike was going to drink it. "So… you doing okay after singing that song?" Mike ventured to ask.

"Yeah, I guess so," Santana said with a shrug. She looked up at him, meeting his gaze dead-on. "Actually, yeah, I am. It felt right, you know? I'm glad we did it."

"Me, too."

"To be honest," Santana said, pulling her beer back and taking another sip, "I always thought Brit would be the one singing for me. I'm frakking shocked it ended up the other way around. Glad, but shocked."

"Glad?"

"Of course. You think Brit could handle this?" Santana waved her glass in a vague direction. "She'd be like Hummel or Trouty Mouth there, unable to cope with it."

Mike frowned. "I think Kurt and Sam have some damn good reasons. You didn't see that Cylon detention center."

Santana acknowledged that with a shrug of one shoulder. "Still. You must get it. How would you feel if you died before Tina?"

Mike tried to picture it and recoiled. "I see your point."

"Knew you would. I assumed that's why you hadn't let Puckerman bully you into the service. Because Weepy Geekgirl over there wouldn't be able to take it."

"She'd survive," Mike said firmly, because Tina would. "But she's not the only one that would miss me."

"Oh. Right. Pipsqueak." Santana had no interest in Blaine. "I know Brit would have survived, but I can survive better. Besides, it's only a matter of time before I join her anyway."

"You don't sound like you mind."

"Why would I? I'm not convinced we didn't die and aren't in hell."

"We're not in hell. Rachel's not wearing animal sweaters."

Santana burst out into laughter. "Thank the Gods for small favors, right? If there's one thing the Cylons did that I can thank them for, it's bombing the hell out of her wardrobe." She chuckled, and then went serious. "Come on. You know this life sucks. What's there to live for?"

Blaine. Blaine and Tina. Mike knew that was the answer, because before Tina had told him that she was pregnant, he'd thought of different ways to kill himself. He'd never actually had a gun, but he'd known where to get one. He'd been thinking about it. It was only Tina's announcement that changed all that. But he wasn't going to say that out loud to Santana right now. Instead, he said, "I guess I see your point."

"Kind of hard not to." Santana swigged her beer then raised her glass. "Well, life goes on. Even if it sucks."

"Even if it sucks," Mike agreed, clinking his beer glass against hers. "Life goes on." They drank together, and then settled back to watch the others dance.

***

Life did go on. In a monotonous, boring sameness, it went on.

Mike and Tina applied to several large daycare centers whenever an opportunity came up, but they never were accepted. The competition to move to the larger ships was fierce, and apparently they were still just two kids from Gemenon to a lot of people, despite having run a daycare for the past two years. Mike more or less resigned himself to the fact they were going to be stuck on the Cybele until they found Earth.

There was some Earth-related excitement about a month after their performance, when the Fleet found the Lion's Head Nebula. At least, they were told that that was what it was, and that it was a marker on the pathway to the thirteenth colony. Mike felt heartened by that news for a few days, but as it wasn't followed up with news of any other discoveries or importance, the excitement faded, and Earth seemed as far out of reach as ever.

But Blaine learned to walk and started to talk, and every new development fascinated Mike. Even better, there was one other person just as delighted with every little thing that Blaine did, and that was Tina. Their mutual love for their son brought them even closer, and even when they fought (which was often), Mike felt secure that this family was what he wanted. He, Tina, and Blaine slept together each night in their bunk, and even though it was a crowded spaceship at the end of the world, Mike knew he was home.

And so the days ticked on.

***

Everyone was clustered around the wireless when Mike walked in. "What's going on?"

"Shhh." Several people hushed him. Mike pushed closer and heard Laura Roslin's voice.

"We will be searching the nearby systems for any sort of food source that can sustain life. But at this time, I must ask for your continued patience and courage. Thank you."

"Searching for nearby food sources?" Mike asked Mr. Schuester. "What's going on?"

"The food supply was contaminated," Mr. Schuester said with a grimace.

"What? How?"

"I'm not sure." Mr. Schuester looked drawn and worn. He had been for quite some time, even before New Caprica, but like a lot of people, he looked worse now. "All I know is we've got what's been produced, and they can't recycle anything more. There's going to be a rationing program, but even tight rations can only feed thirty-nine thousand people for so long. If we don't find another food source soon, it's going to get ugly."

And another food source was going to be hard to find. They'd only come across two habitable planets this entire time that Mike knew of- Kobol and New Caprica. This wasn't something that would be over in a few days. Mike's mind immediately leapt to Blaine and Tina, and a savage protectiveness squeezed him. He had to start planning now. Blaine was eating solid foods but he was also still nursing so that would help, but if Tina didn't get enough, both of them could starve. There was no way Mike was going to let that happen. Not his family. If he had to starve to death to keep them alive, he would.

***

At first it was like a game. Despite all logic, no one quite believed that the food shortage would last. People were used to braving things, and to going without. That lasted for a day, maybe two. But as rations became even scarcer, the mood became more somber. Everything slowed down. Technically, the Fleet didn't stop. People had to keep doing their jobs, not just for survival, but out of the sheer need for something to do. So the few kids they had came to the daycare because the parents went to work, doing what jobs they had. The days ticked by, and no food was found.

Mike began rationing his own food even more strictly. He ate one meal a day. The rest that he had- which wasn't much- he squirreled away in a box by his bed, hoping that none of New Directions would notice, or that if they did, they would understand. But soon, rationing wasn't enough.

Blaine cried the first few days because he was hungry, and the sound of it dug into Mike's soul. But far worse was when he stopped crying. His eyes turned dull and he didn't play anymore- he just lay against a parent or slept. He was starving, and Mike couldn't take it. He had to do something.

There was definitely one ship that would have food. Mike had made his decision in the middle of the night, looking down at Blaine and Tina huddled together in misery. Now he sat huddled in the corner of a control room, the phone pressed to his ear as he waited.

"All right, fine," Mike said into the phone when Puck finally came to the line. "You win. I'll enlist."

"Great! You won't be sorry! We can really use you, man."

"Yeah, well. Anything to get more food for Blaine and Tina."

Silence. Then, "About that," Puck began slowly. "Look, man, I know you think we're getting fed better over here. But right now, we're not getting anything."

"They've got to be giving you something," Mike said, unable to believe it. "What are you fighting on otherwise?"

"No, I'm serious. There's nothing here, either. I haven't eaten in two days."

"You're joking."

"You think anyone jokes about this shit right now?"

No. They didn't. Not anymore. Mike sighed. "I really thought you were getting fed."

"If there was food, we would be."

No food for enlisting. Mike crumbled, slumping against the console. "Never mind then."

"Wait, what? So you're not enlisting? What the hell?"

"'I've got to protect my family, Puck."

"Yeah, and that's what we do over here! Protect people!"

"From Cylons. Being in the military won't help me protect them from this. I'll talk to you later." Mike hung up the phone, even though Puck was still arguing. His protests meant nothing right now. The only thing that mattered was taking care of his family, and Mike was going to do anything he had to in order to do that.

***

Two changes of clothes, two books, and a tooth brush. Mike looked at the sad little collection in front of him, swept it into a bag, and then headed down to the docking bay before anyone noticed where he was going. He sat quietly as the shuttle flew over to the Prometheus, listening to his stomach growl.

The black market was still thriving even after New Caprica, but it was different. People were more… more desperate, Mike thought, working through the crowd. When he'd come here before, it had usually been for luxuries, like books or music or Tina's engagement pendant. Visiting the black market had been a little bit of illicit excitement in the day-to-day monotony. This time, there was nothing fun about it.

Mike went from vendor to vendor, asking each one about food. Each one shook their head. There was no food of any kind. He spotted one crowd, but apparently the vendor in question had alcohol. Mike debated buying some- it had calories, after all- but he couldn't give it to Blaine, or even Tina.

Finally, he struck pay dirt. "They're past the expiration," the man selling the protein bars said. "Some of them have gone and gotten moldy. But if you can pay for them, they're yours."

"You can have anything I've got," Mike said, pushing his bag across the table to him. "You can have all of it."

He opened the bag and looked through, then snorted derisively. "That won't buy you even a quarter of one."

"Please," Mike begged. "I've got a kid."

"You and half the Fleet."

"I'll do anything. I'll work. Whatever you need, I'll do it. Just please, let me have a couple of bars."

He shrugged. "There's nothing you can give me that I can't already get."

"Then what do you want?" Mike fell to his knees. "Tell me. Tell me and I'll get it. Please."

"Antibiotics. Weapons. Something that gets me somewhere. Not this shit." He tossed the bag down to the floor.

"Antibiotics," he said with relief. Just his luck that he lived with a doctor. "I can get you antibiotics. I can. Just… can you hold on to those for me? Just until I can get to my ship and back?"

"Only if a better offer doesn't come along."

"Thank you." Mike backed away. "Thank you." He turned and ran.

All the way back to the Cybele his heart was pounding in his throat. Please let it be there. Please let her med kit be there. Over and over, praying to any god who might be listening. Any other time he might be shocked that at what he was going to do, but today he didn't care. Yes, he was going to steal medicine, but it was for Blaine. What was his conscience next to his child's life?

He was in luck. Quinn wasn't there, and her med kit was. Mike flung it open and searched through. Three bottles. Three bottles weren't going to buy him much, especially since none of them had many pills in them to begin with. He looked at the three bottles in his hand, took a deep breath, and slammed the med kit shut. Three bottles would get him something. It had to.

The vendor was packing up when he got back. "Sorry," he said when Mike handed him the bottles. "I sold everything while you were gone."

"To who?" Mike asked desperately. Maybe he could at least buy a few bars off the new owner.

"You think I know? Better luck next time." He hoisted his bag over her shoulder and disappeared into the crowd.

Mike stood there, staring at the place where she'd been standing, the implications of his act dawning on him. He'd stolen medicine. He looked down at the three bottles in his hands. These pills could be the difference between life and death for someone, and he'd stolen them. But then, that protein bar could be the difference between life and death for Blaine. Mike angrily decided that the only thing he regretted was that he'd been too late.

He tried a few other vendors, and finally, by some miracle, he found one that had food. She gave him three bars for the three bottles. It wasn't much, but he clutched them gratefully. It would buy them another few days, and maybe that was all they would need.

***

Tina and Blaine were curled together in the bunk when Mike came in. Mike shook her shoulder gently.

"Mike?" Tina opened her eyes slowly.

"Here," Mike said, kneeling by the bed and holding out half a bar. "Eat this."

Tina sat up. "Where did you get that?"

"Don't ask questions. Just eat it."

"Mike-"

"Tina. You need to eat. Both for yourself and Blaine. Please." Either he won her over or her own hunger did, because she sat back against the wall and began to eat. Mike smiled at her and then began to gently shake Blaine awake. "Blaine? Wake up. Come on, buddy. Daddy's got something for you."

Blaine came awake as slowly as Tina had, and it took a long moment for him to understand what Mike was holding out. But when he realized it, he snatched the bar from Mike and nearly took too large a bite. Mike lunged forward and stopped him just in time, and then began breaking the bar into pieces. Blaine devoured each piece that Mike handed him hungrily. It felt good to watch him eat.

"Here," Tina said, handing Mike a small bit of her own portion. He shook his head, but Tina huffed. "Mike, I know why you gave it to me. But you have to eat a little, too, okay? I ate most of it, but you can take this last piece. Gods know what you had to do to get it for us."

He wanted to argue with her, but his hand was reaching out and taking the ration bar piece from her palm of its own accord. He had to force himself to chew slowly, and it was heaven going down, even as his empty stomach begged for more. "I never thought anything that so closely resembled cardboard could taste so good."

"I know, right?" Tina smiled at him, then looked down and stroked Blaine's hair. Mike thought of the two other bars he had tucked in his shirt and relaxed a little bit. He knew Quinn would find the missing bottles and it would be a mess, but he didn't care. Desperate times called for desperate measures, and if it meant he could get Blaine and Tina more food, he'd do it again. No regrets at all.

***

Mike was in the shower when he heard the clatter, and somehow, even before he turned around, he knew it wasn't good. When he turned around, he saw Burt Hummel collapsed in a heap on the floor.

"Burt!" Mike sprinted across the room, skidding on the wet tile. "Burt!"

His first terrified thought was that Burt had had another heart attack, but when Mike made it to his side, Burt's breathing was even and his pulse was strong.

"It's malnutrition," Quinn said later, after Mike and three other people had managed to move Burt to his bunk. "Plain and simple. He's dying of starvation."

"He can't be!" Mike looked frantically at Burt's inert form. "It's not possible."

"Of course it's possible," Quinn snapped. "We're all dying of starvation. Unless we find food soon, this is going to be how humanity ends. We starve to death in a bunch of floating tin cans."

Mike glared at her. "Great. You tell Kurt and Carole that conclusion then."

"Like they don't know." Quinn pulled her stethoscope off and stuffed it into her bag. Mike was about to say something nasty when he noticed how much her hands were trembling. He let his gaze travel up and noticed that her face was bloated and pale as well, and that she looked exhausted and scared. It was hard, but he bit down on the sharp words he wanted to say and just nodded.

"Is there anything we should do?" he asked, once his temper was under control.

Quinn was trying, too. "I'm not sure there's anything we can do. He needs to eat."

Mike swallowed, looking at Burt's pale face, and thought of the bar and a half he had left from the antibiotics. "How much longer does he have?"

"He's not going to die in the next hour, if that's what you're asking," Quinn said. She sat down on a bunk. "He fainted, but he'll wake up soon. When he does, he should conserve his energy. We all should, really."

"Right." Mike sat down as well. "So what happens next? Is there any way we can stop this?"

"Find something to put in your stomach," Quinn said. She sighed and then stood up, wobbling a bit as she got to her feet. "I've got to go. You'll be okay?"

"I'll be okay." Mike watched her leave, and then looked back down at Burt, who was still sleeping.

He had a bar and a half left. If he gave Burt the half bar, it was enough to give him… what? Another day or two before he collapsed again? Mike didn't know. But it wouldn't do much. He thought about New Caprica, and seeing Burt when Kurt was in detention. He remembered that terrible desperation that had marked Burt's features, that complete and utter inability to help his own child. Mike sighed and stood up. It was a bar and a half, and there was nothing more for Blaine after it was gone. Burt would understand, Mike told himself. Burt would understand better than anyone in New Directions ever would.

But that didn't mean he didn't feel a little guilty as he headed out of the room and back to work.

***

Burt did wake up, and he was able to get moving again, although his motions were slower. Mike was relieved about that, and it soothed any pangs of conscience he might have had. Quinn discovered the missing antibiotics, but no one had the energy to do much about it. Mike couldn't even summon guilt over that. All he could focus on was what he had to do, and the resources he had left.

Half a bar. He had half a bar left. Mike carried it reverently to the cabin where Tina sat watching Blaine sleep. "What about you?" Tina asked when he gave it to her. "You've got to eat some, too."

"I ate some already."

"No you didn't. You're lying." Tina laid a hand on Mike's cheek. "Mike, don't lie. I can take a lot, but I can't take that."

"Fine. I didn't. But you two have to eat."

"And what will you do?"

"I've got an idea." Mike smiled, even though he didn't feel like it. "I heard about this from Artie- he said some people on the Adriatic are doing it. It helps."

"What helps?" Tina asked suspiciously. Mike held up a newspaper, and her brows furrowed. "I don't get it. Classified ads?"

"Paper. It's fiber. It's plant matter."

She gaped at him. "You're going to eat paper?"

Mike tore off a piece, crumpled it into a ball, and stuck it in his mouth. It wasn't that bad- after all, it was just paper- but it was hard to chew. He managed, though, and eventually swallowed, washing it down with tepid water from the bathroom. "It could be worse," he said, forcing another smile. "At least it's not legal documents."

"I don't know if I should be furious or if I should be asking how it tasted," Tina said.

Mike shrugged. "Eat the bar. Or eat half of it and give the other half to Blaine. Please." He tore off another bite of paper and held it up in a "cheers" fashion. "You need to eat."

Tina gave in and broke the bar in half, then began nibbling on the slightly smaller section. When she was done, she shook Blaine awake and handed him a bite of the bar. He looked so listless and tired, and he didn't even grab the bite out of his mother's hand. Tina pressed it to his lips and had to feed it to him, bit by bit. When she was done, Blaine fell back against the pillow and closed his eyes. Tina muffled a sob with her hands. Mike reached out and pulled her close.

"We can't do this much longer," Tina said through the sobs. "How much longer can we last?"

"We'll make it," Mike lied. "It's got to end soon, one way or another."

"Food! They found food!"

Mike's bars had been gone for two day when the words swept around the Fleet like fire set to dry newspaper. Food. Mike closed his eyes in relief when Artie told him.

"So when are we able to eat?" he asked Artie.

Artie frowned. "It's not that simple," he said. "See, what they've found is a planet with large swaths of edible algae-"

"Algae?"

Artie shrugged. "I guess it's got the nutrients we need to survive. Besides, anything is pretty tasteless once it goes through the refiner."

"I guess." Mike decided that algae sounded good enough to him. "So that's the problem? That we have to refine it?"

"Nope. That we have to get to it."

Maybe it was the hunger, but Mike couldn't see the problem. "That's why we're in spaceships, isn't it?"

Artie made a face and pushed his glasses up his nose. "Funny. But there's a big problem. There's an enormous cloud of radiation between us and the planet. We can't go around it- it stretches too far. So we have to go through it."

"Still not getting it."

"It's like going through nukes. Most of the ships can't handle it. The Cybele sure can't. So they're moving all the civilians over to the Galactica, and giving the skeleton crews radiation suits." Artie grinned. "I'm not sure how I'm going to maneuver in a radiation suit, but it should be fun trying."

"You have a weird definition of fun," Mike said dryly. But the news that there was food and it was coming was good- they just had to hold on a little longer.

***

Mike, Tina, Blaine, Coach Beiste, Quinn, Rachel, and Burt were the only members of New Directions going from the Cybele to the Galactica- the others were elsewhere in the Fleet. The seven of them stuck close together, helping each other. Burt needed an arm to lean on, and Mike was grateful that Coach was there.

Mike watched out a small window of the shuttlecraft as the bulk of the Galactica loomed in front of them and tried to shake off the image of the ship swallowing him whole. The ship docked in one of the bays. He bent over and kissed Blaine, who was settled in his lap and clutching a ratty stuffed toy. His eyes were sunk into his skull and he was listless, but he was still alive. At least thirteen children had died of malnutrition, but not Blaine. Mike looked back up to the Galactica and smirked triumphantly. He was responsible for that, not any military.

The group was led down to a huge bay where cots were set up in rows. Tina found a free one and sat down wearily, reaching out for Blaine. "Let's try to get you something to eat," she murmured, slowly pulling up her shirt. Mike winced at her small exclamation of pain when Blaine latched on too eagerly, then sat down on her other side and stroked her hair and watched the bay fill up.

Mercedes appeared in their row, and she looked like a woman on a mission. Under the harsh lighting, the faint scars from the burns she'd sustained on her face and neck in the rescue of New Caprica were more noticeable, and they made her look older. Or maybe it was just her uniform and how she held herself- Mike didn't know. In either case, she didn't smile when she saw them. "Quinn, Doc Cottle says we need you up on the landing bay. Is there anyone else that can work?"

Burt shook his head, and Rachel closed her eyes. Mike didn't feel like it, but if he volunteered, it might mean that he could get his family further up the line to be fed. "I can," he said, standing up. "How long will it take?"

"Right now, about ten hours. But once you head down to the planet, I'm hearing two weeks."

"Two weeks?!" He looked back at Tina, but he knew he'd already committed. Tina knew it, too.

"We'll be okay, Mike," she said, touching his hand. "We've got everyone else."

"I'll ask if they can stay on Galactica until you get back," Mercedes said. "And I'll make sure they get food."

Mike nodded. "All right. Just tell me what you need me to do."

***

There were five groups of ships to be shepherded through the radiation cloud. Galactica herself would jump with each group, and then jump back and get the next group. But the cloud was so large that it had to be navigated in two jumps. Since radiation would fry the navigation instruments of civilian ships, Raptors shepherded each ship through. It sounded very simple on paper, but it was a lot harder than that. Mike beame a part of the deck crew for those first ten hours that Mercedes had cited, and he saw the radiation damage first hand.

He was hosing down a Raptor when Finn climbed out. When he took his helmet off, his face was white and there were huge dark circles under his eyes. "You okay?" Mike asked, alarmed.

"I feel like shit," Finn admitted. "It's a good thing I haven't eaten, or I'd be puking it up right now." He swayed, and Mike steadied him.

"Did the Cybele make it through?"

"Yeah. I had them. Artie's okay. I talked to him."

Mike let out a sigh of relief. "Thank the Gods."

"Yeah. But we lost the Adriatic."

"Frak me."

"It's crazy out there. You can't see, and it makes you feel all…" Finn swayed again. "Crazy. I'd better get hosed off." He lurched off towards the decontamination station.

The news that they'd lost a ship stayed with Mike as he did his job, hosing down Raptors and scrubbing the deck. The work was harder than it should have been and made him light-headed, so he barely noticed it when Santana came up to him. "Wuss," she said in the general direction of Finn, who was slumped against a wall. "Good thing he's off next run or he'd find himself lost in that sparkly cloud of dust."

"Are you going to be okay?"

"Of course. No way in hell I'm letting something like radiation poisoning take me down. If I die, I'm going down fighting."

"Finn was fighting. So did Blaine."

"Oh, please." Santana rolled her eyes. "You're a wuss if you let some subatomic particle get to you, and I'm not a wuss. I can't afford to think any other way." She walked up into her Raptor with her shoulders squared. A light went off in Mike's head, and he realized this was Lieutenant Lopez, Viper pilot, and this was how she survived. He watched her go with a measure of admiration.

Finn was on shift for the third run. He looked bad going in, but when he came out he got his helmet off just in time to fall to his hands and knees and vomit all over the floor. Quinn was by his side immediately, trying to haul him to his feet, but Finn was so shaky and heavy that she couldn't do it alone. Mike hurried over to help her.

"Check his radiation badge," Quinn ordered.

The badge was hanging off Finn's belt. Mike flipped it open. "It's about half black," he said, showing it to her.

Quinn sighed. "That's still a lot. Finn. Finn!" She smacked him firmly across the face, and Finn's eyes fluttered open. "Can you walk?"

"The Swordfish," Finn groaned. "I lost the Swordfish."

Mike and Quinn exchanged worried glances, neither of them knowing what to say. The Fleet had already lost two other ships. Mike found himself thinking the terrible thought that at least the Swordfish was small. He almost said it, but then Finn went even paler and wobbled, and Mike had to catch him.

"He's going to pass out," Quinn said. "Let's get him to the infirmary."

"He's got one more run," Mike said, guiding Finn over to a gurney.

"We'll see where everyone else is. That last run is going to be done by whoever is on their feet," Quinn predicted grimly as she wheeled Finn off.

She was right. Pilots kept dropping. Finn wasn't the only one to throw up, and at least three had to be taken to the infirmary for dehydration. The military doctor, was the final arbitrator, and he took at least four pilots off for no reason that Mike could see but was obviously clear to him. Santana soldiered on, though, making it through the fourth run.

"I'm taking Twinkletoes' place for the last one," Santana told Mike as they sat against the wall and rested. Her voice was harsh and raspy. Mike handed her water bottle, but she pushed it away. "Can't. It will make me puke again."

"You'll dehydrate."

"I'll dehydrate more if I puke."

Mike glanced down at Santana's radiation badge. It was about as black as Finn's had been when Quinn had had him taken to the infirmary. He thought of Blaine Anderson, and the way he'd looked when he'd come on board the Galactica. He thought about the Swordfish and the Adriatic and the Carina, and what had happened to the crews of those ships. He fumbled for Santana's hand and laced his fingers through hers. Santana didn't squeeze back, but she didn't pull her hand away, either. They sat together, holding hands and waiting for the last jump to be called.

A voice finally came over the PA system, ordering all of the pilots to their stations. Santana struggled to her feet, pulling her hand free.

"Santana…" Mike caught her arm, but when she turned, he didn't quite know what to say.

"Oh, don't get so emotional," Santana said, pulling her arm free. "I'll come back, you dork. I don't have a choice this time. If I die, so do the people on the ship I'm shepherding." She walked off, her stride unsteady but her ponytail swinging.

Santana was as good as her word, and she wasn't the only one. All the pilots made it back, although there was some worry about the final one, a woman with the callsign of Kat. But she made it back, and the ship she was guiding was safe. She collapsed after, but the army doctor got to her fast.

"See?" Puck appeared at Mike's side, nudging him. "That's what it's all about, man! That's why you should join up! The people on the Faru Sadin are alive because Kat's got guts. You could do something like that, Mike."

Mike wanted to argue, but it didn't seem the time or place for it. Instead, he got back to work hosing down Kat's Raptor. The Raptor looked terrible. Mike was kind of amazed that Kat was even alive.

It took a long time to finish, but when he did, he noticed Santana slumped against the wall. Her knees were pulled up against her chest and her tangled hair was hiding most of her face. "Hey," he said, crouching down beside her. "Aren't you supposed to be down in the infirmary?"

"I can't go down there," Santana said.

"I can help you," Mike offered. "And I can get Puck-"

"I'm not going down there."

"But the doctor said-"

"Frak the doctor! I'm not going down there and watching her die, okay?"

Mike sat back on his heels. "Watching who die?"

"Kat!" Santana looked up. Her face was so hard and angry that Mike couldn't speak. "I saw the look on Cottle's face. I saw her badge, too. She's not going to make it."

Mike found his voice. "Maybe she will. Maybe she-"

"You know what? Frak that, and frak you. She's going to frakking die in that infirmary, and no amount of wishy-washy hope is going to change that. And I'm not going down there to watch it."

"But-"

"Look, I'll get down there when I can, okay? When it's a little less crazy. Right now I'm just going to sit here and stay out of the frakking way, because sometimes that's all you can do. All right?"

"Do you want someone to stay with you?" That wasn't what he'd meant to say.

Santana snorted. "I think I can handle sitting here on my own, thanks." She softened a little. "I'll be fine, all right? I know how to handle this."

And this was how she handled it. Mike didn't understand it, but he did understand that she wanted to be alone. "All right," he said, backing away. "I'll… I'll see you later." Santana ignored him. All around, he saw the news of Kat's impending death trickling through, in the glumness on faces and the muted voices. It wasn't how he thought of soldiers dying.

"Hey, Cohen-Chang! Get over here!" Someone was calling him from across the deck, and he remembered he had his own jobs to do. The passage was over, and now he was being sent down to the planet. There was no time to think about a woman he didn't know or a friend who was grieving- only time to do his job. He wondered if it was always like that on Galactica, and if it was, how they could stand it over and over again.

***

"I wish you didn't have to go," Tina said, looking wistfully at the Raptor.

"They need people to help. Besides, this gets you fed quicker."

"I know." Tina straightened her shoulders. "And Mercedes said she'd help me find a place to bunk, and with some of the ships lost, there's a lot of organizing to do. People need homes."

"Yeah. I'll come back up and you'll be running Galactica." Tina laughed and ducked her head, but Mike half-meant it. He had no illusions about who ran the business side of their daycare. "I'll hurry back."

"You'll come back when they bring you back." Mike shrugged at her blunt assessment of the truth. Blaine, tired of being ignored, squirmed from Tina's arms towards Mike. Mike took him and held him close, hoping that by the time he came back Blaine wouldn't feel so small and light.

"Come back to us."

"I will." Mike kissed her, and then Blaine. "I love you both."

***

The planet was nothing like New Caprica. There were trees and grass, and green lakes. The territory was rocky and uneven with a dramatic ravine. As soon as the Raptor hatch opened, a wave of heat and humidity hit Mike. The air smelled terrible, sulphurous and rotten, and it was hard to breathe because of the heat. The military contingent had set up some u-shaped tents that Mike was later told were called quonset huts. There was already a potable water still set up, and some algae had been harvested and processed so that workers could be fed and actually have energy to do their jobs.

"Don't worry," Galen Tyrol said as the crews climbed off the Raptors. "You'll get used to it soon enough. And look on the bright side- you're the first to eat!" A Marine thrust a bowl of green slime into Mike's hands, along with a spoon. Mike eyed it warily, but his stomach dictated his actions and he obediently took a bite. It tasted terrible, like bitter, rotting collard greens, but he choked it down and went back for another bite immediately.

"Don't eat too fast," a woman that Mike belatedly recognized as Cally Tyrol said. She gave a wry smile. "I know it's the gourmet meal of the century, but you could get sick."

"It's terrible," Mike admitted.

"Isn't it?" Cally rolled her eyes. "It should get better after a few more rounds through the processor, though."

Mike had learned two years ago not to think too hard about food in space. Instead, he finished his portion and put the bowl where Cally indicated. "What happens next?" he asked her.

"We've got a lot of harvesting to do. I'll show you how to work the pumps."

***

Mike's shift ended twelve hours later, when a moon hung heavy over the high ridge that towered over the basecamp. He staggered to the circle around the fire and claimed his second bowl of algae. It didn't taste any better than the first one did, but he was still hungry enough that he wolfed it down.

Puck had come down with the first wave of the Marines. Mike sat beside him gratefully. "Where's Lauren?"

"She's still up on the Galactica," Puck said, wiping one finger over his empty bowl and sucking the clinging green goop off it. "She just gave out."

"Really? Lauren?"

"I know, right? I always thought nothing stops my woman. Kind of scares the shit out of me, if you want the truth."

Yeah. It scared Mike, too, almost as bad as Burt collapsing. He changed the subject a little. "So what's going on with you and Lauren? Hasn't she proposed to you yet?" Puck made a face at him. "Seriously," Mike pressed. "What are you guys waiting for?"

Puck apparently decided to be done being offended that Mike thought Lauren would be the one to propose and leaned back against a rock. "I don't know, man," he admitted. "We were doing okay on New Caprica, and then the toasters came along, and it really frakked her up again, you know?"

That was news to Mike. "She seems to hold it together pretty well."

"Yeah, but she just… shuts off." Puck shrugged like it was no big deal, even though it was obvious that it was. "I tried to talk her into going to that shrink that Kurt goes to, but she nearly tore my balls off for even suggesting it. Besides, she's not sure if she wants kids, so there's all that, too."

Mike nodded sympathetically. "Yeah. I can see that. But maybe when we get to Earth, she'll change her mind."

"Depends on when we get to Earth, I guess, and what we find there. Can't get there fast enough for me." Puck tossed his bowl to the side. He lay back, his arms folded behind his head, and looked up at the sky. Mike leaned back on his own hands, staring into the fire.

"We'll get there," Mike said. "We've gotten this far, and we found food. It was against all the odds, but we did it."

"Well, that makes a whole lot of sense," Puck said sarcastically. Mike didn't flinch. "You don't really think the Gods are watching over us, do you?"

Mike shrugged. "If there was ever a time they were, it would be now. Yes, I do."

"Right." Puck was silent for a long moment. "Well, if you're talking to them, ask them if they'll watch out for Lauren, will ya?" he asked quietly. "Because even though she'd kick my ass for saying it, I think she could use it. Frakking toasters. This wasn't how any of this was supposed to go down."

"Yeah, I can do that," Mike said. Puck flashed a smile, and they sat together for a while in silence.

***

"Mike, toss me that coupling by your feet, will you?" Mike found the coupling and handed it over to Cally. "Thanks." She wiped the sweat off her face with her upper arm, leaving a streak of grime, and then deftly attached the coupling to the vacuum tube.

In the three days they'd been on the planet, they'd harvested most of the algae near the landing site, and now people were being sent out to other nearby sites to pump even more. A Raptor had brought Mike and Cally out to a peninsula overlooking a large, green lake for the day.

"You'd think there'd be fish in it," Mike said, looking down at the lake. "Is there any reason we're not fishing?"

"We'd never get enough for the whole Fleet," Cally explained. "We only have so much time here to harvest the algae."

"But why?"

"Cylons," Cally said, shrugging. "Why else?"

Right. The threat that the Cylons would find them again. Not that Mike doubted that it would happen. No one doubted that after New Caprica. "Would be nice to have some fish, though," Mike said wistfully, looking at the lake.

Cally grinned mischievously. "Well, if we happen to catch a couple, I don't see why we have to toss them back, do you?" Mike grinned back, and decided that he really liked Cally.

"So what do you do?" Cally asked him as they finished assembling the vacuum setup. "I think I remember seeing you with kids?"

Mike nodded. "My wife and I run a daycare center over on the Cybele."

"The Cybele's pretty small, isn't it? I can't see that there'd be a lot of call for it."

"There was before New Caprica," Mike said, as he lowered the tube into the lake. "And on New Caprica, it was different."

"Everything was different on New Caprica," Cally said wistfully. They exchanged glances and smiled.

"We're trying to get onto one of the bigger ships. We applied for the Zephyr and the Carina, but nothing so far. We're trying for the Galactica, but we don't have much of a shot."

"Why not?"

"I don't know." Mike shrugged. "I just assume because we keep getting turned down. Which sucks, because we'd really like to move somewhere where Blaine can be with other kids. The Cybele's where New Directions is, but that's not what we need anymore."

"I definitely understand that." Cally indicated that he should put the hose into the green goop below them, then picked up a hose of her own. They began to suck the algae up, nudging the hoses around and making sure they didn't clog. "Bringing Nicky up on the Galactica doesn't always seem best for him, either. Not after New Caprica. Although it could be a lot worse."

Mike nodded. "I know Blaine isn't a reason another daycare should hire us, but no one's so much as called us for an interview. Tina thinks it's because were Gemenese."

Cally frowned. "It could be," she said seriously. "Or it could just be stiff competition. I think- wait! Look!" Cally pointed down. "Right there- move your hose over!"

"Fish!" Mike moved his hose and sucked the fish up. He pulled the hose out and Cally flipped the switch off, and the fish fell to the ground, flopping about.

"There's dinner tonight," Cally said. She patted Mike on the shoulder, leaving a moldy green handprint. "Or at least part of it. If we happen to see more…."

"Right," Mike said with a grin.

It was a long day, but by the end they were able to roast three fish over the fire. There were no seasonings or butter, but the fish tasted amazing, and Mike and Cally devoured all three.

"Well, now you've got the goods on me," Cally said happily, licking her fingers. "If Galen ever finds out we had fish and ate them and didn't give him any, he'll divorce me. So now I have to put a good word in for you on Galactica, huh?"

Mike laughed. "I wouldn't say no."

"Will it buy your silence?" Cally looked mischievous.

"It might." Mike couldn't resist teasing her back. "It might not. You'll just have to try it and see."

"I don't negotiate with blackmailers."

Mike shrugged playfully, and Cally scuffed some dust at him. Mike kicked some back, and after a few minutes it turned into a cross between a game of tag and a wrestling match. It was like playing, and for a few minutes it was possible to forget that they were harvesting algae to eat while a bunch of genocidal robots chased them across all of space. Eventually Mike managed to pin Cally to the ground.

"All right! You win!" Cally laughed, pushing Mike off. "Let me up, you oaf." He held out his hand and hauled her to her feet. She dusted herself off. "Come on. Let's get this last tank filled before the Raptor gets here."

Five days later, Mike was sitting on the ground, cleaning a hose that was clogged with algae. The novelty
of having a full stomach was wearing off. He was getting used to the smell, but it was still pretty bad. Although it was better here at the camp than out at one of the lakes.

Cally's voice made him start. "Cohen-Chang! Get in here!" She stood at the door of a quonset hut, and when Mike got closer, she winked at him. "You have a call."

"A call?" Panic seized him. There was no reason that anyone would call him from Galactica unless Tina or Blaine-

"A call, Mike." Cally was smiling. "Just take it." She pulled him inside and shoved the receiver into his hands.

Mike put the receiver to his ear. "Hello?"

"Mike?" Tina's voice was clear. "Don't panic. Blaine's fine, and so am I. But something came up that I had to talk to you about right away."

"What's going on?"

"That job? The one for the workers in the military daycare?"

Mike hardly dared to breathe. "What about it?"

"We got it."

For a second, Mike could just gape at the receiver. "We got it?"

"We got it," Tina said, laughing. "They offered us the position."

"You're kidding!"

"No, I'm not! Mercedes was trying and she really didn't think we would get it, but then I guess someone else spoke up for us and they gave it to us! And Mike- they even said they'd give us a room."

"A- a what?"

"A room! There's an old storage closet in the back across from the nursery. It's half the size of our tent on New Caprica, but it's a room. We have to have security clearances and there are a whole lot of other things, but it would be a private room, and a huge daycare. The only thing is, I have to let them know right away. Are we sure we want to do this?"

He knew Tina's doubts as well as his own. Taking this position would mean leaving the Cybele, and all of New Directions that remained there. It would be hectic, it would mean taking Blaine onto the ship that was most often in danger, and it would mean turning their lives completely upside down. But at the same time, it meant privacy and more children for Blaine to play with. And Blaine would never object to being on the same ship as Uncle Puck. Really, there was no question. "Let's do it."

Tina squealed. "I'll let them know, and Blaine and I will get everything settled. How soon will you be back up?"

"I'm not sure. At least another week."

Tina sighed. "I figured. Well, Mercedes is making faces at me. I don't think I'm supposed to be making this call in the first place. I'd better go."

"Me too. I love you."

"I love you, too. Come back safe."

"I will." Mike replaced the receiver and looked at Cally, who had been attempting to pretend she wasn't listening and failed completely.

"Good news?" she asked innocently.

"You had something to do with this, didn't you?"

"I owed you for not telling Galen about the fish." Her smile was mischievous. "Besides, I like you. You'd be great taking care of Nicky."

Mike couldn't help it- he jumped forward and hugged Cally tight. "Thank you," he said. "Thank you so much. We'll take, like, the best care ever of Nicky. I promise."

"I wouldn't have gone to bat for you otherwise," Cally said, laughing as she pushed him away. "Come on. We'd better get back to work."

"I know. Just… thanks," Mike said, still glowing. "This means so much to us."

Cally smiled. "Glad I could do something to help."

***

"So," Puck said, when he and Mike were the last two sitting around a dying campfire, "I hear you and Tina are coming over to the Galactica."

Mike hadn't planned on telling Puck yet. "Finn told you?"

"On his last supply run down, yeah. That's awesome, man. Knew we'd get you sooner or later."

And that was why he hadn't planned on telling him. But this conversation had to be had, so Mike squared his shoulders. "I'm not enlisting."

"Tina is?"

"Neither of us. We got jobs at the daycare center." Puck snorted derisively, and Mike snapped. "Enough."

"Enough what?"

"Why do you keep giving me so much shit about this?" Mike demanded. "I don't get it. You understood it on New Caprica. Everything with Kurt-"

"I gave Kurt plenty of shit."

"For a long time, yeah. But for one, you know that even though he wasn't a soldier he got information for the Resistance and he helped some people with medicine and food. But I also know that something else went down between you two."

Puck's eyes flared open and he looked guilty. "How the hell did you know about that?"

"Do you think I'm blind or stupid? I might not talk about things, but they're pretty easy to see. For months you were ready to rip his head off for not being in the Resistance, and then overnight you were ready to rip the head off anyone who said a fraction of what you'd been saying the whole time!" Puck looked away, confirming it, and Mike pressed on. "Rachel and Tina thought maybe you guys hooked up, but you'd never do that to Lauren. Anyone else, maybe, but not Lauren, even if it's just because you're afraid she'd rip your balls off. I'm guessing Kurt saved your ass somehow, and you found out about it."

"So what if he did?" Puck said. "More than you'll ever do, watching kids."

"Yeah, well, it's not your life I have to protect," Mike shot back. "It's Blaine's."

Puck stood his ground. "Yeah. It is Blaine's life you've gotta protect, and that's why I don't get it! You've got more to protect than any of us do!"

"You think I don't protect Blaine?"

"Well, if you're not flying a bird or shooting down toasters, what the hell are you protecting him from? The threat's out there!" Puck gestured wildly and vaguely at the sky.

Mike thought of the past two weeks and his blood boiled. "No it's not! I have to protect him from people, too!"

"Well, Tina can do that! Tina kicks all kind of ass!"

"Yeah, she does, but she shouldn't have to do it alone. Blaine is my kid, too, Puck, and I am not letting him down! You have no idea what I'd do for him!"

"Everything except pick up a gun."

"And what's that going to do? If I'm a Marine, or if I'm a pilot, what's that going to do?" Mike stood up. "So maybe I shoot some toasters. Maybe I get a few raiders. Great. Whoopee. But maybe one of them shoots me down first. And then what happens? Do you know what happens when kids don't have someone watching out for them in this Fleet? Do you have any idea of the kinds of things people are capable of doing? There was a frakking child prostitution ring!"

"There's no way-"

"There is too a way! Tina and I had a kid who'd been stuck in it! We couldn't even begin to help her, the poor kid was so messed up. We've probably had others, too, and just not known it."

"But there's Tina, and there's the rest of us. We'd never let something like that happen to Blaine."

"Maybe not," Mike allowed. "But do you know how many kids died of malnutrition during the food shortage? Twelve. You know why Blaine wasn't one of them? Because I frakking stole the antibiotics out of Quinn's med kit and sold them for three protein bars!" Something like respect flashed in Puck's eyes, but Mike was too angry to care. "Think about it, Puck. Think about what all the kids in this Fleet go through. These are little kids, and the only life they know has been New Caprica and life in spaceships. They've got Cylons after them, they've hardly got any toys, they don't have a place to really play. You have no idea of how many abused kids we see, because their parents can't handle this frakking pressure and powerlessness and they need something to take it out on. I am not leaving Blaine to a life like that. And what about when he gets older? Who's going to teach him if I die? Who's going to help him grow up? It's not just my duty, Puck. I want to be there for all that. What would you do if Beth was still here?"

Puck reeled back as if Mike had struck him, and Mike realized he was standing with his fists clenched at his sides, half-shouting. But he couldn't back down. Not now, not about this. "Think about Beth, Puck. If she was here now, what would you do? It's not like Finn, where he's defending his parents and a brother that can damn well take care of himself. It's your kid. Would you be on Galactica all the time, away from her? Or would you not be willing to let her out of your sight?"

"I'd still be on Galactica," Puck ground out, but he didn't look sure at all. "But yeah, I'd be… frak! I don't know! She's not here, okay? So I don't know what I'd do!"

"Exactly. So stop harassing me every turn about enlisting, all right? It's not going to happen. I'm staying with Tina, and most importantly, I'm staying with Blaine. Got it?"

"Fine," Puck growled, nodding tightly. "I'm going to bed." He stomped off, leaving Mike to deal with the fire alone.

Mike poked the fire savagely, scattering the coals and then sloshing water on them. It had been something he and Puck needed to have out, but it still made Mike feel a bit sick to do so. He looked up at the sky, where he could see the ships as little stars, winking in their orbit. He'd give a hell of a lot to be up there with Tina and Blaine right now, settling into their new quarters and putting their lives in order. He wished he could talk to Tina after this argument, and have her lay against his shoulder and reassure him that he was completely right, and that Puck would come around. He wished he could hear Blaine's happy jabber, just to know that he was safe. Most of all he wished that they were all settled someplace, and that none of this who-was-protecting-who stuff would ever matter again.

***

"Good news, Mike," Cally said, tossing him a hose. "We've got two more days on this planet."

"Really? About time." Mike coiled the hose. "I don't suppose we can get anymore of those fish before we leave, can we?"

"Not likely. Besides, we've got this history lesson to deal with." She pointed up the cliff with her chin.

"What is up there?" Mike asked. He'd heard a lot of rumors since Tyrol had come back down the cliff, but nothing certain.

"It's a temple."

"You're sure?"

"Positive. Galen's sure of it, too. And there really is an aura of something… something old." Cally looked reverent. Mike looked up the cliff again at the area where the supposed temple stood. "It's really something to see. Do you want to come up next time?"

"Sure. Why not?" He wasn't sure he believed it was actually a temple, but it was something different to do.

The outside of the temple didn't look like anything special- just a big, craggy rock- but inside was a different story. There was a huge, thick column dominating the center of the room, and a platform with a red, yellow, and blue circle pattern to one side. But there was no doubt that this building was man-made. Mike had heard the reports about the map that had been found on Kobol, and never been sure exactly what he thought about that. He'd seen the Lion's Head Nebula from the window of a ship. But standing inside the Temple of Five, seeing it with his own eyes and touching the ancient stones with his hands was different.

Mike had always believed in the Gods. He'd been dedicated to Athena at birth and gone to temple most weeks. Belief in the Gods had come easily enough, and it made sense to him. But he'd never really believed in everything in the Scrolls. Gods were easy enough to believe in, but miracles and prophecies and thirteenth tribes were a lot harder.

"This is real," he said out loud. "It's really real." The feeling swelled up in him. "Earth is really real."

"I know, right?" Cally came to stand beside him. "After two years and New Caprica, sometimes it's hard to remember that there's really something out there that we're looking for."

"I wonder what it's going to be like." Mike laid a hand on the stone. Was it his imagination that it felt warm and pulsing instead of cool? Probably, but he didn't care. "What do you think they look like? Or the cities? Or the-

"FRAK!" Tyrol shut off his walkie-talkie and gestured around urgently. "Get everything packed up," he ordered. "We've got to get back to the base camp. Cylons."

Cylons. Mike's eyes widened and his heart plummeted to the pit of his stomach. Cylons, and they were not on the safety of a ship. Cylons coming down to the planet, and he was here and Tina and Blaine were on the Galactica and if the Cylons killed him here he would never see them again and if they jumped away he'd be left under their thumb like New Caprica and-

"Mike," Cally said, touching his shoulder. "Let's get the stuff and go."

He snapped out of his panic enough to start gathering things up. His body was moving mechanically and his heart was pounding, but nothing was blowing up. Tyrol was over the walkie-talkie again, and although Mike couldn't hear half the conversation and didn't understand another quarter of it, he didn't seem too panicked. Mike took a deep breath and slung a bag over his shoulder. After all, all they had to do was get down to the Raptors. Then they'd get back up the Fleet, jump away, and be safe. That was the mantra he repeated to himself the entire way back down the hill, towards the base camp.

To his surprise, the quonset huts were still up when they reached the bottom of the hill, although it looked like further progress had been made in packing up the vacuum equipment. Marines were out with their flack vests on and rifles slung over shoulders, and the officers were carrying weapons as well. But there was something about the way that people moved that told Mike that they weren't getting on the Raptors and fleeing right now.

"What's going on?" he asked Puck.

Puck was loading his gun. "Toasters," he said. "But the Old Man wants the Eye of Jupiter that's in the temple. Did you guys find it?"

"I didn't know we were looking for it," Mike said. He squinted back up the hill at the temple. From here, it was almost impossible to see it. "What's it look like?"

"Got me. Gunny says that Chief's gonna look around some more, and we're gonna hold the bastards off. Although from what I hear, they want the Eye, too."

Mike swallowed hard around the lump of fear forming in his throat. "So what's that mean?"

"For you? Don't know. But there're only a couple Raptors down here, and anyone taking off right now just gives the Cylons a nice big fat target to shoot at. So we're stuck here."

"Shit." Mike was trying not to panic again.

Puck saw it. "Look. You know how you told me you've got your job? Well, this is mine. This is what I do. And I'll keep you safe and get you back up there." He clapped a hand on Mike's shoulder. "Promise."

Mike didn't believe it, but he believed Puck meant it, so when Puck held his fist up, Mike bumped it. It was all good faith, and these days, that was all anyone could ask for anymore.

***

It was the chrome jobs. Mike saw the flash of silver first, and then the huge, stiff robots marching through one of the ravines. They were the ones he had nightmares about. They were the ones that shot people. Not that the skin jobs were so much better, but the chrome jobs… there was nothing human about them. They were cold and mechanical and efficient and deadly and they marched through the New Caprica streets, sending everyone scurrying to their tents. They sent chills down Mike's back.

He had no idea how they were going to get off this planet alive.

***

Mike's job was to help distribute ammunition. Early in the day it wasn't too bad, dividing up the firepower and taking it from one end of camp to the other. But as the confrontation between humans and Cylons stretched on, it got harder.

There was a group still up at the Temple of Five, searching for the Eye of Jupiter. There was also a group a little further down the hill, waiting to blow up the Temple if the Eye of Jupiter couldn't be found, just to keep it from falling into Cylon hands. There were groups guarding the base camp, and a small group of Marines led by Sergeant Nowart holding the high pass. Nowart had wired down and said they were holding off some chrome jobs, and their ammo was running low. Mike had been handed the orders to deliver some to them.

Most of his journey up to the high pass was out of anyone's notice. He ended up scaling rocks and crawling through underbrush, so he didn't come in contact with any Cylons. But the last hundred yards was a nightmare. The Marines gave him cover, but it was still terrifying. Running towards the outpost with the sound of gunfire all forcibly reminded him of escaping from New Caprica. Mike couldn't decide if this was better or worse, only having to worry about his own safety, and not a dozen kids. The Marines were behind a cluster of boulders. Mike sprinted the last few yards and flung himself behind the cover the rocks provided, falling on the soft ground.

Nowart spared him a glance. "What have you got?"

"Ammunition," Mike gasped, handing it over.

Nowart grunted at him and snatched up a clip belt. He jammed it into his rifle with a deftness that indicated long practice and began firing. Mike got down and began laying out the other things that Anders had sent with him.

"Awesome!" Puck said, snatching one up. "Grenades!"

Mike hadn't realized he was carrying grenades. Maybe that was just as well, because he would have been more afraid to run than he had been. "How are we doing?"

"Well, we've got the high ground, and they aren't getting past us to that Temple yet." Puck saw the look on Mike's face. "Don't worry. We'll get back down. That's what Marines do. We blow the shit out of these guys so we can get where we need to go."

"Right. So what should I do now?"

"Just sit tight," Nowart ordered him. "You're not going to get down to the camp safely." His eyes narrowed as he surveyed the situation. "Wish they'd just blow the Temple already."

"Here." Puck tossed Mike a rifle. "Might as well make yourself useful."

"Puck, I've never fired a gun in my life."

Puck shrugged. "Just point the barrel that way and pull the trigger. Worst that can happen is you hit a rock."

"Right. Worst that can happen," Mike muttered, laying down on the ground next to Puck. It was going to be a miracle if he got out of this alive.

***

The radio crackled, and Nowart snatched up the receiver. "Get back to the base camp," Tyrol ordered. "Admiral says it's time to get everyone off this rock. We're blowing the Temple."

"Yes, sir." Nowart ended the transmission. "You heard the Chief," he said. "It's time to get out of here."

"Great, sir," one of the other Marines said. "How? We've got a shitload of chrome jobs down there trying to blow us to bits."

"I'm working on that." Nowart crawled over and started sifting through what was left of the ammunition that Mike had brought.

Puck looked over his shoulder. "We're out of grenades," he said.

"I told you to stop using them."

"I like grenades."

"Yeah, I know." Nowart made a face.

Mike pushed forward a duct-tape wrapped bundle. "Anders sent this bomb."

Nowart picked it up, and as he did, the trigger fell off. "Frak. Useless civilian-made shit. What the hell good is it unless there's a trigger?"

"Still plenty good," Puck offered, still shooting at Cylons.

"We aren't to that point yet." Nowart pushed his hair back and studied the bomb. Mike wished he could suggest some brilliant solution, but nothing came to mind. After a few minutes of thinking, Nowart swore and put the bomb down, then crawled over to Puck and studied the layout of the landscape. He swore again.

"Sarge?" Tyrol's voice came from the walkie-talkie. "Just got it in from the Old Man- we've got to get out of here fast."

"Cylons?"

"No. Something worse."

"What could be worse than Cylons?"

"The frakking sun is about to go supernova."

Nowart snorted. "Right. And I'm a Scorpian jet pilot."

"I'm serious. It's the Old Man, Nowart. He's not gonna frakking joke about something like this."

"Shit. How much time do we have?"

"Less than an hour."

"Frak." Nowart looked paler, and when he clicked off the walkie-talkie, Mike had a bad feeling. Nowart surveyed the scene again. The Centurions weren't giving any ground.

"Not like the toasters care about them, right?" Puck said. "They're just robots. They aren't going anywhere."

"Yeah," Nowart said, and his face hardened. "We've only got one option. Someone's going to have to take the tylium bomb in."

The silence was only a couple of seconds long, but to Mike, it seemed to stretch for an eternity. His mouth was dry and his heart was pounding and oh Gods he really did not want to die. He wasn't going to- this couldn't be real. Someone would come up with something different and they'd get out of here and-

"I'll do it," Puck said.

Mike gaped at him, ready to protest, but Puck didn't look at him. His gaze was fixed on Nowart. Nowart closed his eyes for a long moment, and then opened them. "You sure about this, Puckerman?"

"Yeah, I'm sure."

Mike found his voice. "Puck! What the frak? You can't- you- NO! You can't do this!"

"We're not getting out of here unless someone does," Puck said. "You can see that clear as I can."

"There's got to be another way," Mike protested. "We can figure something out. Puck, don't do this."

"Make sure he gets to the ship," Puck ordered Nowart as Nowart set the bomb. Mike's throat was closing fast. Puck looked at him. "Take care of the Blainester, okay? Make sure he grows up enough to blow a few toasters up for me. Got it?"

"Puck-"

"And tell Lauren… never mind. Lauren will know." He clapped Mike on the upper arm, and then looked at Nowart. "You guys ready? Because I'm only doing this once."

"We're ready." Nowart's face was expressionless.

"I'm serious. No matter what, get him to the ship."

"We will. Good luck, soldier."

"You too." Nowart handed him the bomb and Puck took a deep breath.

"Puck! No, wait-" Mike cried, but it was too late. With a primal sort of yell, Puck vaulted over the rocks and down the slope. One moment he was running and the next moment there was sound and light and heat from an explosion, and Nowart was pushing Mike and yelling for him to go, go, GO. Mike's legs started running without him realizing it. He kept looking over his shoulder as he ran, staring at the flames from the explosion.

They plummeted down the steep trail towards the base camp. Mike's lungs were on fire and he kept twisting his ankles, but no bullets came flying after them. Puck must have done a number on the squadron. Mike faltered, and Nowart pushed his shoulder roughly again.

They finally made it to the base camp, which was now mostly gone. The quonset huts, the equipment, the people…. All that was left were fire pits.

Two Raptors landed, and the hatch opened. "Hurry the frak up!" Mathias shouted, waving them in. "The entire place is going supernova!" Someone shoved Mike again, and he tripped into the Raptor, sprawling across the floor. He managed to pull his legs up against him so others could get on, but he couldn't catch his breath. His lungs were still burning and he was gulping air and he couldn't breathe.

The hatch shut and the floor began to vibrate as the engines fired up. The Raptor lifted off, but Mike couldn't see a thing from where he was sitting- only the vinyl of the bucket seats in front of him.

"Strap in." The order came from somewhere above his head. Mike didn't move, and Nowart sighed and knelt down. "Strap in," he ordered again, and when Mike still didn't move, he began doing the straps roughly. "I promised Puckerman we'd get you to the ship," he said, his voice hoarse. "And I'm getting you back up there if it kills me."

Mike found his voice, at least enough to croak out a few syllables. "Puck… he…."

"He made his choice," Nowart said, thumping down into a seat and doing his own straps. "And he died with honor, as a Marine. That's more than most people get these days."

Mike wanted to argue, to say that it wasn't possible, but there was something about the set of Nowart's face that forbade it. Besides, his voice wouldn't work again. He subsided into miserable silence.

Puck was dead. For him.

***

"Mike!"

Mike only had a second to glimpse at Mercedes and Santana holding Tina back, then she was throwing them both off and running down the stairs to the deck at a breakneck speed. She flew across the deck and threw her arms around her neck, and he immediately hugged her close, grateful for the solid feel and the familiar smell of her next to him. Because Gods help him, he owed Puck for this. This was what Puck had given him- the chance to hold Tina in his arms again, the chance to be a father to Blaine.

"You made it back," Tina was crying. "I was so afraid you wouldn't make it back."

"I'm here. Where's Blaine?" he asked.

"In the nursery. I didn't want him down here just in case- oh, Mike! When we heard about the supernova and the Cylons we were just so terrified! I was so sure I was never going to see you again."

"I know." He cupped her cheek, his fingers playing with a tendril of her hair. "You are so beautiful," he said, because right now her face… her face was the only thing he could see. He hugged her again, wishing he never had to let her go.

But he had to. Because Mercedes and Santana weren't the only ones with Tina. Lauren was standing there in her BDUs, arms crossed as she scanned the faces. Her eyes met Mike's.

"Puckerman?"

Mike couldn't answer.

"Frak." Lauren took two steps back. "Frak!" She turned away, punching the wall. "FRAK!"

Her voice echoed off the walls of the bay, and people fell silent as they realized what was happening. Mike was shaking, and Mercedes and Santana both took a step forward. Lauren evaded them both, then took a deep breath, and then another, and as she did, she calmed down. Her knuckles were still bleeding from where she'd struck the wall. She wasn't crying, but it was clear she was breaking. Mike had no idea what to say.

Lauren drew herself up and wiped her bloody knuckles on her pants. "The body?" she asked.

"There wasn't one," Mike said. "We were pinned down and he set off a bomb."

A grim little half-smile tugged at the corner of Lauren's mouth. "So he took some of them with him?"

"A lot of them." Mike swallowed. "He saved our lives. A lot of our lives. He saved my life."

Lauren nodded as if she'd already known it. "And don't you dare forget it," she ordered him. She took another deep breath, looked around, then started away without another word.

"Should we follow her?" Tina asked.

Santana snorted. "Not you losers. I'm going after her, though. Mercedes, you stay here with the lovebirds and make sure they don't fall apart." Santana headed after Lauren. Mike wanted to go, too, no matter what Santana said, because he owed it to Puck. He had to… he had to… what the hell could he say to Lauren, of all people?

"Mike?" Tina was calling him. "Mike? Are you okay? Physically, I mean?"

Mike snapped back to where he was. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine." He rubbed his hand across his face. "I know I should get a shower first, but then I want to see Blaine, okay?"

"Okay." Tina was watching him warily, like he might explode. "Mike?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm glad you made it back."

The worst of it was that he felt this overwhelming relief. "Yeah," he said tiredly. "Me, too."

***

He stood in the shower, washing away the grime and stink of the planet, the dust and blood of battle. If he'd been back in his house on Gemenon, the water would have been cold by the time he stepped out.

Would Puck have volunteered to carry that bomb in if Mike hadn't been there? Probably not. Possibly. But then, Puck was close with the Marines, too. Maybe he would have. It was impossible to know for sure. But he had his suspicions, and nothing would shake them.

He wished he knew what you were supposed to do next when someone died for you.

***

That night, he held Blaine close, rocking him in their tiny storage closet of a room, singing softly. Blaine's head rested on his shoulder, and his little hand closed around Mike's shirt. Blaine was safe. And when Mike closed his eyes, he was sure he could see Puck smile.

***

The funeral was held in an airlock that was maintained especially for that purpose. It was the same place that Blaine's funeral had been held, but it looked different this time. For one, there were two coffins, one for a Marine whose body had been recovered, and one for a service member who'd died on Galactica from their wounds. There were also five flags, now being folded. Mike had wondered how they still had flags at this late date, and then later regretted it when Mercedes told him that there were enough flags aboard the Galactica to lay her entire crew to rest.

The Marines finished folding the flag, and the flag ended up in the hands of Sergeant Nowart. He approached Lauren with measured steps, knelt down in front of her, and extended the flag. "On behalf of the President of Colonies, the Colonial Fleet, and the grateful people of the Colonies, please accept this flag as a symbol of our appreciation for your loved one's honorable and faithful service." The words were formal and stiff, but the expression on Nowart's face made it clear that he considered presenting this flag an honor. Lauren took the flag and Nowart stood up and saluted her. Lauren saluted back, but she stared forward, a dead look in her eyes.

They couldn't really sing during the funeral, because it was a formal military event and they hadn't been asked. But as they left the airlock, Mike found the words echoing in his mind, and next to him, he heard Finn humming the tune. Artie started singing first, but the others joined in quickly.

Beth, I hear you calling, but I can't come home right now.
Me and the boys are playing, and we just can't find the sound.
Just a few more hours and I'll be right home to you
I think I hear them calling, oh Beth, what can I do?

They sang it together, in unison, all of New Directions, as they walked away from the airlock. Just a few more hours and I'll be right home to you. He's with Beth, Mike told himself. He's with Beth, and he'll be able to protect her forever.

It was a lovely thought, but it didn't make the funeral any easier.

***

The picture was one that had been taken on Galactica, with Puck in tanks and holding a gun and smiling. Finn went with Mike to hang it in the Memorial Hallway. Mike had thought it would be more of a ceremony, but apparently, that wasn't the way it was done.

They took Blaine with them, and when they got to the spot where the other New Directions pictures hung, Finn held Blaine up and Mike helped him pin the picture in the right spot. Blaine patted the picture lovingly when he was done.

"Does he get it?" Finn asked as they left the hallway. "Does he understand what's happening?"

"Not really." Mike sighed. "Death's a pretty hard concept to someone who's only a little over a year old."

"It's a pretty hard concept to someone who's twenty-one," Finn said somberly.

Mike nodded. "The worst thing is that he'll forget him. Puck died for him, and he'll forget him. He'll know what he looks like and Tina and I will tell him stories, but he won't remember Puck. I wish he would."

"Yeah. I know exactly what you mean." Finn frowned. "But Blaine'll still love him. I know that. I love my Dad."

Mike nodded and unconsciously hugged Blaine closer. "You'll always know about Uncle Puck," he told him. "Always."

***

The daycare on the Galactica was infinitely nicer than anything they'd had on the Cybele. There were also about five times the number of kids, and daycare workers were often expected to be on at odd hours if there was an attack. The faster pace and the number of kids reminded Mike pleasantly of New Caprica, and Blaine was absorbed happily into the mesh of children. In some ways it was so different than the Cybele, but there were some things that would always be the same.

"CYLON!" Mike went down under a swarm of kids.

With a lot of tickling, wrestling, and drama, Mike ended up sprawled across the floor, tongue lolling out to one side, limbs askew. "Get up!" one little girl said, beating on his chest. "You have to resurrect. Get up!"

"Cylons take thirty-six hours to resurrect," Mike told her. He cracked one eye open to see her face, and then said, "but zombie Cylons… ARGH!" He jumped to his feet and lurched after the delighted kids, who squealed and scattered.

"Brains…. BRAINS…." Mike scooped one little boy up and pretended to eat him as he shuffled around the room, his face contorted into a grotesque mask.

And, of course, that was how he met the Agathons.

***

The Agathons were intimidating. The husband, Karl, was huge and a captain and looked like it, with a stiff face and a crisp uniform. But the wife, Sharon, was even more terrifying. She was an Eight. Mike had heard about her, the Cylon that changed sides, but he was unprepared for how it would feel to face her directly. So instead of looking at her, he studied the kid. Hera Agathon didn't look any different from any other little girl, even though she was half-Cylon. Mike couldn't help wondering if there was a potty training subroutine you could activate, though. It would make things so much easier. He forced his mind away from that and back to the couple sitting in front of them.

"We want her to get used to all of the daycare facilitators before we start leaving her," Sharon was explaining. "She's had a very traumatic experience, and she doesn't really trust anyone yet."

"You were mentioning health problems as well?" Tina asked, making a note on her pad. She looked cool and unworried, but Mike knew her well enough to know that it was a façade.

"She just had surgery to correct a blocked intestine," Sharon said. She went on to explain the details, but Mike found that he wasn't really listening. Hera peeked out from her mother's shoulder and met Mike's eyes. He forced a smile, and she smiled back. Just a little, shy smile, just like any other shy baby. Just like Blaine would do if it was someone he didn't know. She was just a little girl. Mike relaxed, and his smile became more genuine. He'd been playing with a little stuffed bunny and now he held it out to her. Hera hesitated, then reached out and took the bunny. Naturally, it promptly went in her mouth. Mike laughed.

"She likes you," Sharon said.

Mike shrugged. "Hope so. She's cute."

"She's normally very shy. Would you mind seeing if she'll come to you? It would make me feel better."

"Of course. Want to come here, sweetie?" Mike held his hands out and made a face at Hera. Hera considered him for a moment, and then leaned over. Sharon let her go, and Mike held her against him. She felt exactly like any other child.

"Wow," Karl said, watching them. "I've never seen her go that easily to anyone."

"Well, Mike's good with kids," Tina said proudly. She reached out to pat Hera, but Hera flinched away. Tina pulled her hand back. "If you'd like," she said, covering up her stung pride, "I can give you a tour of the daycare."

"Yeah, I can do that." Karl got to his feet. "You want to stay here with her?" he asked Sharon.

"I think it's best, just in case." Sharon and Karl passed some unspoken message between them with their eyes, then Karl nodded and went with Tina, leaving Mike alone with Hera and Sharon.

"So," Mike said, trying to cover up the awkwardness he felt. "Is there anything else we should know about her? Things that set her off?"

"We're not sure. She's only been home for a week or so." Mike looked at her, confused, and Sharon sighed. "To make a very long story short, she was kidnapped, most recently by the Cylons."

"How'd you get her back?" It occurred to Mike that that might be a rude question. "I'm sorry. I-"

"No, it's okay." Sharon took a deep breath, like this was some sort of test. "Karl shot me, and I resurrected on the base star when we were in orbit around the algae planet. That was how I was able to get her."

Mike's eyes widened. "He shot you?"

"Well, yeah."

Mike tried to imagine it. He could see himself standing there in that little room that he and Tina were now sharing, begging her to shoot him because it would be the only way to get Blaine. And he immediately knew that if Tina wouldn't do it, he'd take the gun from her and shoot himself. Absolutely. Unconsciously, his arms tightened around Hera. "Yeah," he said. "I'd do the same thing." He met Sharon's eyes, and she didn't seem quite so scary. "I'd do the exact same thing."

A little smile played at the corner of Sharon's lips. "I'm glad you'll be taking care of Hera," she said, reaching out and stroking her daughter's hair. "I'm glad you're on the Galactica."

"Yeah," Mike said, looking down at the girl who had been placed in his care. "Me too."

***

Mike didn't set out looking for Lauren, but he knew he'd find her in the rec room all the same. He wasn't surprised to see her with Santana, drinking and playing cards.

"Oh, fine," Lauren said when she saw Mike standing by their table. "Let's get this over with. Deal him in, Santana." Santana obeyed, and Mike sat down wordlessly, picking up his hand. It was shit, but he rearranged the cards anyway.

"So how'd he get the truck?" Santana asked Lauren, playing her card and picking up the conversation that Mike had interrupted.

"He hot-wired it. How else? You should have seen Anders' face when he did it." Lauren made a distorted, startled face, and Santana smirked. "I tried to tell Anders that my boyfriend has a criminal element, but he said he didn't think I meant it literally. Just that he was badass."

"Idiot," Santana said, and Mike played one of his shit cards and drew one that was slightly better.

"So then," Lauren continued, tossing out her own card, "after we dropped the weapons under Hummel's shop, we had to run through the city to get back to the tent, and we got caught by a Three. You should have seen Noah. He knows we've got no excuse, so he decides to turn on the charm and tell her we're out looking for a threesome partner, and asked her to join us."

Santana screamed with laughter. "He thought that his skills in bed would get her to let you guys go?"

"He has improved," Lauren said dryly. "And I'm pretty damn good myself."

"Right." Santana snorted.

"So did the Three go for it?" Mike asked. He was aware that both girls were thrown for a second, but he just played his next card.

"Nah," Lauren said finally. "But I guess he made her laugh or something, because she let us go. Figures. Puckerman always had that kind of luck. Lucky for us."

Mike picked up the bottle and poured himself a glass. "Remember that time on New Caprica when you and Puck watched Blaine for the first time and tried to let me and Tina sleep?"

Lauren had just taken a drink, and practically snorted it out her nose. "Don't do that to me, Cohen-Chang."

"What happened?" Santana asked.

Lauren began relaying the story of Puck trying to change Blaine's diaper for the first time. Mike was pretty sure she was embellishing some details, but he didn't correct her. He just let the story wash over him, bringing Puck back for a few minutes. The diaper story was followed up other stories until the bottle was nearly empty and the cubits were redistributed across the table.

"In a way," Lauren said finally, after Santana had divided the last of the liquor into their glasses, "I hate him."

"Why?" Mike asked.

"He got out on his own terms. He saved you. I want to be able to say that. That when I die, it changes something for somebody."

"No kidding. When I go, I'm taking at least one toaster with me." Santana kicked Mike under the table. "So will you."

Mike snorted. "Me? Not likely."

"Of course it's likely, nursemaid. You're so attached to those ankle biters that if you die, it's going to be because someone threatened one of them. You're like a mama bear."

"Or a mongoose," Lauren offered.

"Exactly." Santana seemed to feel this proved her point.

"It's better than other ways to die, anyway," Lauren continued, turning her glass around. "I'd rather die fighting than of radiation poisoning or in prison. And at least this way, I know he's really dead."

Mike and Santana exchanged glances. She rolled her eyes, but Mike got what Lauren was saying. Kurt hadn't gotten really messed up until Blaine came back to the Galactica and died again, and Sam… Mike didn't really know what all was going on in Sam's head, except that Rya had been in that prison and no one had found her.

"At least he's not a Cylon," Mike said finally.

"As far as we know. There are still five models out there that we haven't seen," Santana said. "And it would explain a lot."

"Explain Beth then," Mike said.

"Okay. Maybe not."

"Of course not. That would mean he's still out there somewhere, and I'm not that lucky." Lauren put her empty glass down and stood up, wobbling slightly. "I'm going to bed."

"Yeah, me too. See you later, Mongoose." Santana followed.

Mongoose. Mike had a feeling that Santana would never call him anything else again, and to his surprise, the thought made him smile. It was like having a call sign, and it was one that fit. He wobbled to his feet, steadied himself, and headed home to his wife and son.