Ghosts of the Past

by cliosmuse

Chapter 2

He entered the church just as Gaius Baltar was leaving; their shoulders brushed slightly in passing (the doctor turned nervous eyes toward him). At first he didn't see her, but then he caught the glow of her hair, illuminated by a stray sunbeam that broke through the ceiling's gaping wounds. She sat in one of few pews not yet collapsed (a precarious position, he thought). Hands in pockets, he walked toward her and took a careful seat on the bench beside her. She stared vacantly at the gold cross that still stood at the front of the church. He looked down. Their wings aligned.

"Kara, I know you're confused. I am, too."

She didn't respond, merely hugged her arms to her chest tightly.

"Listen." He sighed; scrubbed a hand through his hair, making it stand on end. "There's something I need you to know. This –" He pointed to their arms, not quite touching, and the inked wings that visually joined seamlessly. "This still means something to me."

She shook her head in frustration. Her voice was a plea. "Sammy –"

"No, let me finish. Kara, you and me – we're connected. We're connected by this. This –" He shook his head, at a loss for words; brought up his hands, gesturing around him in silent demonstration. "This, Kara. This is why I fell in love with you. That thing that existed between us, when we first met – that thing that I felt so totally the first time you grinned at me on that frakking pyramid court."

She turned her head toward him, a sad smile on her face. But she didn't look at him; looked past him, as if she were struggling with something just realized. With a barely discernible nod of her head and dawning understanding (tears pricking her eyes): "This is why I went back to Caprica for you. This is why I married you."

"You reminded me of my wife."

"– reminded me of something I hadn't even done yet, but–" A pause. "But that I had."

He nodded. "Yeah. Yeah. That's what I'm trying to say to you, Kara. Just... just because it wasn't what we thought it was doesn't make it meaningless."

She looked back at the cross, then lowered her eyes to her lap, chin bowed. "I never thought it was meaningless, Sammy."

"I do love you, Thrace. There's something down here, something big. And you're going to find it." He looked down at their hands, lying side by side; took, as he moved to stand, a deep breath, clasped her hand, and squeezed it. "And I'll be here for you when you do."

And then he walked away, and she was left alone among the ruins.

***

Gaius Baltar sat leaning against the ruined facade of the church. Head tilted back, he closed his eyes against the sun; saw red through his lids. The last time he'd seen the sun: on New Caprica, in reality (though most of that year he'd spent confined to Colonial One); but, in his mind's eye, at his lake house.

She walked through the glass doors to join him on the balcony; the water stretched out before them. "I thought you told me you were tired of this? That you didn't miss this place anymore?"

He turned his eyes toward the blond woman next to him before returning his gaze to the reflection of the sun on the water. "It's not the place I miss, I suppose."

He felt a finger drag over his jawline. "Is that regret I hear in your voice, Gaius?"

He snorted. "You of all people should know me better than that."

"Missed opportunities, then?"

An eyebrow raised. "A few of those." A beat. "All those pyramid games I could have gone to." Silence. For a moment, he was lost in thought, and then: "That was your scripture in there. One God, it said."

She nodded in agreement. "It did."

"I don't suppose you'd like to enlighten me as to what that was all about." In his mind's eye, he watched the finger of the woman in the red dress flit over the open pages of the old book, clutching as she did his hand in hers; saw Starbuck's terrified eyes as she backed away, arm out, as if warding off something terrible beyond description. "I imagine you'd probably say that I've been brought here for a reason."

Her eyes cut toward him, her voice chastening. "Everything happens for a reason, Gaius."

He let out a frustrated breath. "Then tell me, since you're so all-knowing: is there a reason why the things that work so perfectly in my mind fail so monumentally in practice?"

She didn't speak for a while. And then she smiled (sadly, he thought, which was strange: his Six, the one who inhabited his dreams, never seemed sad). "Why?" She paused. "I suppose it's because you're a lake house, and I'm a pyramid game."

***

"Two weeks' worth of algae."

Kara shook her head in frustration. "Two weeks? And how much water?"

Racetrack sighed. "Even less than that. Ten days, maybe just a week for six of us." She shrugged. "But, Captain, surely Galactica will come back for us. They'll know that the capacity of the Raptor is limited. They'll know that we're short on supplies." Her eyes were hopeful. "He'll realize he was making a mistake, Starbuck."

When she'd come out of the church, it was as though some of her fire had returned; they all saw it. There was a hard light in her eyes that spoke of determination. Now, she took a deep breath and ran a hand through her hair (longer, now, since she'd come back from the dead, but not as long as New Caprica; she felt like a different person). "I wouldn't count on it." She cut her eyes toward Baltar, who sat at the side of the church, back leaned back against it. His eyes were closed, his face tilted toward the sun. His lips moved slightly, as if he were whispering to himself. "Doctor?" His head jerked toward her, his eyes wide. "How were the radiation levels? Is there any chance we might be able to find plants? Fish? Animals?"

He stood carefully and walked toward them. "The levels are fine, but I've seen no signs of life. The planet was clearly decimated. Insects, maybe. Plants – perhaps." He took a few steps; bent down toward the rubble, where a solitary yellow wildflower pushed toward the light. "But I suspect we'd have to travel a long way to find plant life in enough quantity and variety to bear fruit. Most likely much closer to the equator."

"I might know where we can find food, and water."

They all turned toward Sam. The Cylon shuffled his feet self-consciously.

"I guess... well, I guess we were the last people here." His eyes cut toward Kara's. "I mean, the five of us, and you. And if we were the last people here, it would still be there. When we went to Galen's lab, after you'd left –" A nod toward his wife. "– there were supplies. There was water, preserved food. Not enough for us to have survived for the long-term, which is why we decided to leave, but enough for a while. And there were protein supplements, and sugar, and honey. I'm not sure how long it would have been good for, but I know that it was there for long-distance space travel. And their – our – technology was so backward. He expected us to be traveling hundreds of years." He shrugged. "It's worth a try, right?"

Each face held a different expression. D'Anna's: approval. The doctor's: esteem. Racetrack's: shock. Lee's: confusion.

It was Starbuck whose eyes he held, though; she watched him for a time. "Does this mean you remember, now? That you remember the Fifth?"

A slow nod. "I remember Tigh finding her, outside the lab. Him bringing her down. She was nervous, more than she should have been, you know? She kept fidgeting, playing with this pad of paper. And she lied." He took a half-step toward her, his eyes blazing as his mind drew the pieces together. "I asked her if she saw you, and she lied. I know it. You went after her, didn't you?" A pause. "There was blood under her nails. What happened, Kara?" They stared at each other, wide-eyed, transfixed.

"Who is she? Who's the Fifth?" Lee. His voice was choked, came out in something akin to a sob. His eyes sought Starbuck's, imploring. And she did open her mouth, did try to answer; but her voice resisted.

"Oh, Apollo." It was D'Anna who answered him (Starbuck watched with horror; please, don't). "Did no one tell you already?" She smiled. "It's your wife."