Chapter 42 Floundering

Two days after the incident with Cally, Kara entered the deserted shower area and slowly pulled her sweat-stained tank over her head. She discarded the rank-smelling top and added her sports bra, sweatpants and underwear to the pile. Gods, she was so frakkin' tired. Leaning her head on the metal partition, she let her eyes close briefly. Her head jerked up as her forehead slipped to the side and she momentarily lost her balance. She put out a palm and braced herself back upright.

With a sigh, she fumbled through her shower kit until she found the minuscule bar of soap. Reaching forward, Kara turned the faucet setting and stepped into the warm spray. One advantage to taking showers at this gods-forsaken time of the morning, no shortage of hot water. Working up a lather, she washed her hair and rinsed it well. She hated laying in her bunk with damp hair, yet she knew she needed at least the hour of sleep she was likely to be able to steal before a nightmare or reveille called her back to the world of consciousness. After a long workout like the hours she'd just put in at the gym, she could usually count on sleeping until the call for first shift. Usually.

As the soap slipped from her clumsy grip, "Godsdamnit," she muttered. Bending forward to retrieve the priceless sliver, she lost her balance again and desperately reached out, accidentally knocking the faucet, and turning off the hot water. Straightening again, she was hit full in the face by the cold spray. The shock of the water traveled down her body.

…and her mind flipped back to another time.

[ I I I I I ]

Racetrack yawned hugely, feeling her jaw practically crack as she rubbed at sleep-crusted eyes.

"Hate mornings. Hate anything bout mornings," she muttered as she slowly moved to a sink and stared at her reflection. "Even hate breakfast... Though…plate of pancakes…double side of real bacon. Yeah, and OJ, freshly squeezed." She took out her toothbrush and began scrubbing her teeth as her mumbles continued, "Donuts," she moaned, pausing to spit, nearly able to taste the decadent pastries she use to buy from the neighborhood bakery. "I think I could tolerate mornings with donuts." After rinsing her mouth, she twisted the faucet off and realized that there was still water running in the background. Cocking her head at the realization that some other poor sucker had drawn the 'way too early' shift like her. Stowing her kit, she grabbed a towel from the supply closet and walked around the wall dividing the shower stalls from the rest of the head.

When Racetrack first saw who was in the occupied stall, she nearly turned away, knowing how obsessive Starbuck was about her privacy since returning from New Caprica. Yet she paused. Something was off with the other woman. Then it struck her as she looked again. Kara wasn't even standing under the spray, she was pressed with her back into the corner, arms crossed about herself and shivering violently.

Taking a hesitant step forward, Margaret was stunned to realize that cold water was splashing forth from the shower head. Of course Starbuck was freezing, who wouldn't be after a cold shower and standing up against an equally cold wall.

Margaret looked closer at the blonde, saw that her eyes were tightly shut but her lips were murmuring words too low to hear through the chatter of her teeth. A sick feeling gripped the Raptor pilot and she reached through the spray to turn off the faucet.

"Starbuck?" she tentative called. No response. Not even a twitch beyond the shivers that racked Kara's body. This was the first time Racetrack had gotten a good look at her bunkmate since her return to Galactica. Now she saw how thin Kara had become and was surprised the Doc had even cleared her for duty.

She tried again, "Captain, it's me, Racetrack… Kara?"

Still no reaction.

Dithering what to do, Margaret finally moved closer. Her fingertips touched the pale skin and the icy chill beneath them changed her thoughts from mere concern to fear. She's gotta be nearly hypothermic, she thought as her mind raced with options. First thing, warm her up. Slinging the dry towel over the partition's edge, she turned the water back on, carefully adjusting it to tepid. Reaching forth again, she gently gripped the shuddering shoulders and pulled Kara away from the supporting wall, easing her forward with a locked arm around the lax shoulders until she had her maneuvered under the water.

Glancing down at herself, Margaret gave a sharp laugh as it dawned on her that she was still wearing her tank and shorts, which were now thoroughly drenched.

"Guess I'll be sporting a towel back to quarters. Really gotta thank you for that, Starbuck," she said, nudging the temperature a little higher.

After another minute she gave the knob a third twist and steam started rising around the pair of them. Holding her like this, the gauntness of Kara's frame was accentuated and Margaret wondered again why no one seemed concerned at her condition. Hadn't anyone even noticed? Two spots of color stained her cheeks as she realized that she hadn't, even though she'd been sharing the same cabin with her.

Beneath her supporting hands, Racetrack felt the shivers slowly lessen, then Kara raise dazed eyes to hers before casting about the small stall in confusion.

"Wha—?" Kara croaked, barely a whisper.

"Easy now, Starbuck. I got you," Racetrack said, shifting her burden slightly as the blonde straightened beneath the spray. As Kara stepped back, Margaret moved with her, not sure it was safe yet to let go. With Starbuck leaning against the back wall again, the Raptor pilot released her hold, turning off the water as she pulled down the towel to drape it over Kara's bare shoulders.

As Starbuck seemed to snap into full awareness, Racetrack moved away from her, suddenly wary of the unpredictable pilot's reactions. Kara moved the towel lower and wrapped it around herself, avoiding Margaret's intent gaze until she had the cloth secured.

"You can go," Kara quietly said with eyes still averted. "I'm fine."

"I know, but I'll just go back with you. Unless you want to go see Doc Cottle?" The vehement head shake nixed that plan. "So, get dressed." At the blonde's stubborn look, "Either you go to the Doc, back with me to your rack…or I call the CAG," she gave her ultimatum in a brook-no-argument tone that surprised even herself.

Starbuck's eyes darted around the still empty room, and Racetrack could see her trying to find a way of sidestepping the choices she'd been given. "I've got a shift—"

"Not today, you don't," the Raptor pilot interrupted, crossing her arms over her chest, getting chilled standing around in her wet clothes. Irritation made her voice sharp as she said, "You look like hell. Only place you're going is back to your rack. I'll tell the Chief you're sick."

"Not sick," came the resentful reply.

"Starbuck, just get the frak dressed," she ordered, patience at it's end. "I'm freezing here." She saw the blonde take in her dripping shorts and shirt, and abruptly move to the supply closet. Following her, she caught the towel Kara tossed her way. Turning her back on the other woman, she quickly shed the wet garments, patting dry and tightening the towel so it wouldn't inadvertently loosen on their way back to their cabin.

Glancing over her shoulder, she saw that Starbuck had made quick work herself, already clad in a clean pair of regulation underwear and tank top, and pulling on sweatpants. After gathering up her wet things, Racetrack gave a head jerk for the recalcitrant woman to lead the way, determined to see her back in her bunk before making any other decisions as to who to tell about what had just happened.