Ghosts of the Past
by cliosmuse
Chapter 4
He gasped and fell, hands and knees to the ground, and she was beside him in an instant (the déjà vu was powerful, took her to Caprica, making a deadly pact behind a barricade, and then back here, to Earth, leading his wounded form through the char and rubble).
"Sam! Look at me, Sam. Stay with me." She grabbed his chin, roughly; turned his head toward her; peered into his eyes. (Lee stood several yards away, bringing up the end of their small procession as he had been since their departure from the church. He shifted awkwardly from foot to foot.) Anders pulled his head away from her competent fingers, shook it slowly, and lifted himself to his knees. Her eyes didn't leave him. "What happened." It wasn't a question.
"I – I'm fine. It was just, all of a sudden – like I got the wind knocked out of me. Like something flew past me, knocked me over. Like a hard tackle."
She quirked an eyebrow, a sardonic smile on her face. "Pyramid analogies? At least that means you're okay."
He took a deep breath, pulled himself up, and dusted off the knees of his pants. Rubbing his jaw, he grinned. "Some grip, woman." She rolled her eyes, and the group began walking again. A few paces and then, eyes studiously trained away from her, his voice softer: "You look more like yourself."
She nodded slowly. "I feel more like myself."
"I'm glad, Thrace."
Fifteen more minutes of walking (this place so different than it was in their memories; bodies they once had to step over long decomposed, buried under centuries of dust, deep enough to nearly bury the front steps of the crumbling brownstones they passed). And now they were at Lookout Hill. There was no sign of the trap door that at one time had led the Five down to Tyrol's ship, the Apollo. Sam kicked the ground in frustration; shook his head and ran a hand through sweat-spiked hair. "It was here. I know it was here."
"It still is." Kara nodded toward the ground. "It's been hundreds of years, Sam. We'll have to dig."
In the end, it wasn't so very deep. The wind had licked this hilltop, burying the hatch in one decade only to erode the land around it in the next. Within a couple of hours (Sam, Kara, Racetrack taking turns digging as the doctor and the Cylon watched, aloof; and Lee wandered the park, collecting his thoughts, trying to come to terms with his circumstances) they stared at a thick steel trap door in the ground. Sam knelt down to examine the old key pad which once provided industrious scientists access; but it was completely rusted out, wiring a blackened bundle. "Damn it. There's no way we're getting through that."
Kara smirked at him. "You can't be serious."
Grimacing: "What are you talking about?"
"Sam. You said you remember. Then you know what you're capable of. We don't need that." She pointed to the ruined keypad. She lowered her voice: "You can do this, Sammy."
He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. "Gods know I wish I couldn't."
Crouching, then, he moved a hand toward the keypad (licked his lips slightly, nervously); and as the others watched the hand that hovered above the electronic system, a blue bolt shot from his fingertips, briefly dancing between his skin and the ground below him.
A slight clicking sound, then, and the hatch popped open, blasting cool, regulated air out toward them.
Then he – pyramid player, resistance fighter, child of Earth – stood, rubbing his hands against his thighs as if trying to clean them. His wife smiled up at him, her eyes dancing. "I knew you could do it."
***
The ship could have run a thousand years, Tyrol had told them, and it nearly did; and it seemed as though the lab had some similar life expectancy. They had cut the main generators when they left, but when the doctor had been able to start them again (with some ease, thanks to a jump-start from Anders), the computer bay had whirred to life. Secondary generators (powered by a self-sustaining reaction, like the ship) had kept the room climate-controlled enough to prevent excessive deterioration. Baltar, scientist-turned-prophet, had been all scientist again back in his element, pushing his glasses up his nose as he pored over the computer's stored data. And there had been some nourishment: Racetrack and Sam had set to work sorting through protein supplements, glucose shots, and many gallons of water.
Hours had passed now, and the others were resting; all but Lee, who had never come down to the lab. When she found him, he was sitting on the ground outside the hatch (in the same place, ironically, that his wife had been sitting hundreds of years earlier when she first met Saul Tigh), just visible in the light that spilled from the lab. Blackness and stars surrounded him.
She was, like Sam said, more like herself, he had to admit. It was the old Starbuck that had brought him back to reality after D'Anna's revelation about Dee. "Not now, Lee," she'd hissed, seeing him cut pained eyes toward D'Anna – and in a voice that didn't invite response. "You can think about this all you want later, but we don't have time for it right now." He'd looked at her; closed his mouth, which had dropped open at D'Anna's words, though he didn't seem able to properly formulate words. The surprise and anger had drained from his eyes; in their place, weariness. He felt exhausted.
If she'd looked, really looked in his eyes at that moment, he knew, she would have seen not just weariness but also betrayal. She'd treated him with a harsh impatience, and it stung. He'd brought her here, saved her life; but he felt, now they'd arrived, impotent and useless. Out of his depth. Tired. Hurt. Confused.
And so, when she found him, he was still sitting outside, still contemplating how very wrong he'd been about so much.
When she caught sight of him in the dim light, she took a breath. Nibbled on her bottom lip slightly as she struggled for words. In the end, she decided against originality.
"Hi."
He didn't look up from where his eyes were trained on his hands, clasped together, his arms encircling his knees. "Why didn't you tell me?"
Another deep breath, and she came to him; sat beside him, just far enough from him so that the cool night air passed between them unhindered. "There wasn't really time. Everything happened so fast."
"There was time. You could have told me, any of a hundred times." A beat. "How am I the only person who didn't know this? My own wife."
It felt like a slap, and she looked down and away from him. Nodded once, sharply. Her voice soft but bitter: "Your wife."
The silence was thick for a moment, and awkward. He coughed. "You know, it occurred to me that... that he knows so much more about you than I do. I've been thinking that Leoben was right, that I don't know you at all."
She winced and closed her eyes. She'd had a sense this was coming, that once he knew everything he'd run. She was no stranger to running. "Lee, you don't need to –"
In a rush, like one word: "No-wait." A beat. "What I mean is... there are things... things that I'd like to know about you. Things I never asked about. Because I was scared to hear what you'd have to say."
She tilted her head toward him warily. "What kinds of things?"
He hesitated; bit his bottom lip. Took a breath and drove ahead. "Like about your life before I knew you. Like what happened to you on Caprica. What happened to you on New Caprica. What happened to you here." He scrubbed his hands over his face. "It's like... I kept thinking, if I just didn't know about any of it, it wouldn't be real."
She swallowed thickly. "The last thing I need is your pity, Apollo."
"That's not what this is." He shook his head, blinked back – something. "And it's not a shoulder to cry on. I know you don't need that. It's more selfish than that. I want to feel like I know you again. And that you trust me, as much as you trust anyone."
She was quiet for a while. "You did ask about Caprica. A long time ago."
He nodded. "And you wouldn't tell me. But maybe I didn't really want to know. Maybe that's why I didn't press it."
Silence, again. He thought she might be about to leave when she spoke. "You're right. There are things you don't know." She sighed. "And I think it's time I told you one of them." She stood, dusted off her pants, turned, and began to walk away from him. He watched her in confusion until she turned her head slightly – a glance over her shoulder. "Are you coming? There's something I need to show you."