Chapter 44 Spiraling Down
As Lee searched the bustling Flight deck for the familiar orange-clad form of the Chief, his stomach roiled with a combination of anger, frustration—and though he hated to admit it—concern, over Racetrack's comments that morning. After dismissing the Lieutenant, he'd tried to return to his reports yet kept finding his thoughts wandering to what the Raptor pilot had said. He'd had the impression that she'd meant to tell him more…if he'd have let her. An hour after her visit, he'd finally stood with a sigh, admitting that he wasn't going to get any work done until he'd followed up on their conversation.
So he found himself in the hanger bay, remembering too late that Racetrack was out on a scouting mission. After realizing that Kara was nowhere on the deck, he'd finally thought to check the duty logs and discovered that she'd been scratched from her shift and marked as sick.
That's when Lee decided to find the Chief and see if he knew what was going on with Kara. Finally spotting his moving target, he strode up to the obviously busy man and stood impatiently waiting for him to finish giving orders to one of the younger petty officers. Apollo's gaze narrowed in speculation as the Chief finally turned to greet him with a determinedly blank expression on his face. The man obviously knew something—and wasn't planning on volunteering the information.
Fine. If he thinks he can protect Starbuck, then he'd better just reconsider right frakking now, Lee decided as he locked eyes with him.
"Chief, I understand from the duty logs that Captain Thrace has been reported too ill to work her shift?" he demanded, knowing that his tone was overly harsh, yet refusing to ratchet it down.
"Yes, Sir. Racetrack told me before heading out on her scouting mission, Sir." Tyrol confirmed. Then, after giving Apollo a searching look, added, "I had Cally check on the Captain, and she said that Starbuck's in her bunk sleeping. I guess she's pretty exhausted, Sir."
"Of course, because she's so overworked on the maintenance detail," Lee sarcastically said. As he saw the Chief straighten to attention, he bit back a curse, realizing that he'd just insulted the man and his people. "Sorry, Chief. I didn't mean to imply that you and your people have it easy."
"No, Sir. Of course not, Sir," Tyrol replied, not dropping his formal stance.
Lee stared at the Chief a few moments more, knowing he should have handled their discussion better. It had been stupid putting him on the defensive, even if it was inadvertently. Mentally grimacing, Lee acknowledged to himself that he had a knack for stupid actions whenever Kara was involved. Well, short of ordering the Chief to spit out whatever he was holding back, Lee decided he'd be better off not pushing the matter.
With an, "As you were," he left to confront the source of his irritation in person.
[ I I I I I ]
As her privacy curtain was yanked aside, Kara shot up in her bed with a gasp, heart racing as she saw a man looming in front of her bunk. Squinting aching eyes, she abruptly recognized Lee and her stomach unclenched with a twist.
She managed to roll over quick enough to vomit onto the floor instead of her bunk as she heaved bile…and little else. Through her retching, she vaguely heard Lee's curse as he jump away but not before getting splattered. Serve the frakker right, she disjointedly thought with a grimace as she spat to clear the acid from her mouth as best she could. When she was finally sure there was nothing else that could possibly come up, Kara flopped over onto her back, wiping at her mouth as Lee cautiously advanced forward again.
"What do you want, Lee," she asked, too tired to really care yet knowing he must have had a compelling reason to seek her out this way.
"If you're sick, you should see Cottle," his tight reply.
"Not sick," she mumbled, wishing he'd just go away and leave her alone; it hurt too much to see the bitter disgust on his face when he looked at her.
"A hangover's not an acceptable excuse for missing a shift." His tone hardened further as he added, "Next time you overdo it drinking, Starbuck, you can expect to spend the day in the brig. Not that I'd expect that to make much of an impression on you, but everyone's expected to carry their load, even the screw-ups. Have I made myself clear, Captain?"
"Crystal, Sir," she replied, voice and expression flat.
Giving another disgusted glance at the mess on the floor, Lee said, "And clean up your own mess for a change," then spun on his heels and strode away, slamming the hatch closed behind him.
Kara lay in her bunk trying to fight back weary tears as his words looped through her mind. It's not like they weren't true, nor the first time she'd heard them. She wasn't drinking, hadn't had one in three days now, but the rest of his comments were spot on. Once a screw-up, always one, as she seemed so good at proving.
Swinging her legs over the bed's side, she put her throbbing head in hands that shook and inhaled slowly until the room stopped spinning.
Frak. Maybe I should go see Cottle, she thought, then dismissed the idea.
She wasn't feverish. Besides, she knew her real problem was that she hadn't been getting enough sleep, or eating regularly. Both her own fault like everything else. Kara folded her arms across her abdomen, feeling her ribs unusually prominent through the thin material of the tank she always wore now to keep her body covered. Her appetite had been nonexistent since her return from New Caprica, and she'd had to force herself to choke down something each day.
The last few days, though, it just seemed like too much effort and she'd been avoiding the mess except for the single time the Chief had cornered her and insisted that they have lunch together. She'd pushed her food around the plate and managed to swallow enough to keep him from noticing how little she'd really eaten.
Kara wasn't a fool. She knew that her body needed fuel as much as her Viper did, and yet…
Everything just took too much effort anymore.
Forcing her legs to hold her weight, she stood and snagged a dirty top and used it to sop up the detritus from the floor. Tossing the smelly garment back in the laundry bin, she looked at her rack longingly. Gods, what she wouldn't give for some real sleep for a change. Rubbing knuckles against grainy eyes, she sighed. Lee had snatched away any chance she had of getting any more now. She knew that if she tried, she'd just hear his voice on constant replay, heaping condemnations on her until she suffocated under the weight.
Standing in the deserted bunkroom, she considered her options. After what had happened earlier, she wasn't ready to face another shower, not even sure if she could trust herself to try. Since sleep was out, maybe an attempt to eat was in order. At the thought, her stomach roiled and the acid threatened in her throat again.
Ok, so, maybe no food just yet.
She couldn't go to the flight deck since she was suppose to be too sick to work.
Kara sighed and moved to pull her toiletry kit from her locker and made her slow way back to the officer's head. Avoiding the shower stalls, and the stares of her crewmates, she used a free sink to splash water on her face and brush the bitter taste from her mouth. After dropping her kit back at the still empty cabin, she made her reluctant legs carry her to sickbay, hoping she could corner a nurse instead of dealing with the senior surgeon. Luck seemed to be finally giving her a shake when she caught Ishay's eyes as she entered.
"What brings you here, Captain Thrace?" the assistant asked, giving her a brief once over before adding, "No gapping wounds or bleeding stumps. Hardly expected anything less to drag you through our doors."
"I just—" Kara paused, wondering what lie she could tell that would get her something for her rebellious stomach and pounding head. With a self-derisive internal chuckle, she realized that there was one obvious explanation no one was likely to question. "just need something for a bad hangover. Settle my stomach. Help with the headache." She gave what she hoped passed for a sheepish shrug at Ishay's disapproving frown.
"Of course, Captain," Ishay said, then turned to rummage through a nearby drawer. She pulled a two-pill blister pack forth and held it out. As Kara gripped the proffered medication, she felt the other woman keep hold of the pack. She raised her eyes to meet Ishay's.
"You know there are other options than alcohol. If you ever need to talk…" the woman offered, her eyes conveyed a sympathy that immediately had Starbuck stiffening in defensive reaction.
Snatching the pills, she forced a smirk, "This is all I need," she said and hurried from the area before Ishay remembered to check her weight or Cottle could show up and demand answers.
[ I I I I I ]
After leaving the sickbay earlier, she had swallowed the pills and hidden out in the nearest head, waiting for them to work. A half hour later, finally feeling some semblance of normalcy returning, Kara had forced herself to the mess hall and even managed to get down a whole cup of soup and a few crackers. She'd sat off by herself, glaring at anyone that even looked likely to join her. With the food feeling heavy in her shrunken stomach, she'd gone back to her bunk, steps dragging with the pulling fatigue.
A bare two hours later and she woke thrashing with the blanket twisted about her legs and her breathing harsh in the silent room. She'd only just caught her breath when a couple of the newest pilots came laughing into the bunkroom, their chuckles abruptly cutoff on seeing her. Kara hurriedly grabbed her workout gear and left the compartment, finally ending up in the nearly deserted gym with the promise to herself that after a good workout she'd try to get some more sleep.
Kara was doing leg presses, careful of her weakened right knee as she counted them out. Eighteen, nineteen, twenty… With a slow exhale, she eased the weight back to its cradle and stood to stretch out her protesting leg muscles. Glancing around, she saw that a few more people, mostly Marines, had wandered in. Seeing that the bench press was still unoccupied, Starbuck adjusted the weights and lay back until she was positioned under the bar. A few deep breaths and she lifted the weight. Slow down and steady up…Repeat…And again.
On the eighth count something changed…
A heaviness settled on her chest and Leoben was there, pressing her down, hands touching her, and she couldn't breathe…
The pressure was suddenly gone and she blinked up at a freckled young man with a crew cut.
"Hey there, Sir. It's Ok. I got it," the boyish voice said, concern barely hidden beneath his light tone. "You should have a spotter," he added as he slid the bar onto the support arms.
Kara cleared her throat, trying to swallow the lingering terror of the flashback as well. "Yeah. Stupid. I know better… Thanks," she said flicking a glance around to see if anyone else had noticed. Fortunately not. With a nod to the Marine, she moved away and found herself in front of the heavy punching bag. Still feeling the adrenaline surge from her fright, she decided that a little bag workout was just what she needed.
Not bothering to wrap her hands, she started with light combinations, using jabs and one-two combos to loosen her tensed shoulders. Hooks and uppercuts were followed by harder pairings until Kara lost herself in the rhythm of her fist striking the leather surface. Her breathing deepened to heavy pants and the punches were flurries now against the swaying bag as she dove further into the need to pummel and strike. She was oblivious to the gathering silence about her as people noticed the blood coating her unprotected fists and splattering droplets on the mat at her feet.
A hand on her shoulder had her spinning and instinctively striking out. HotDog fell backwards, landing hard on his butt and surprised pain causing the whites of his eyes to show.
Lifting a hand to his face, "What the hell was that for?" he asked, working his jaw side to side.
Lowering his hand, Kara saw him stare at the blood on his fingers. "Frak, Starbuck, I'm bleeding." Then he wiped again at his face and realized that he wasn't after all, that's when his eyes narrowed on Kara's bloody knuckles. She followed his gaze down and saw the raw skin her unprotected pounding of the bag had grated red. She considered offering her former nugget a hand up, but decided against it as she saw other eyes looking from her hands to the red-smeared bag and the still sprawled junior officer.
"Sorry," was all she managed before hurrying from the gym.
Stopping at the nearest head, she gingerly washed her hands, thankful that the torn flesh had stopped bleeding. Seeing more faces turned her way as she stood before the mirror, Kara abruptly left and headed off towards the hanger bay. With any luck she could skirt the work parties and find that little cubby again with no one the wiser.
Not seeing anyone looking her way, Kara slipped deeper into the bay and breathed a sigh of relief as she slid into the dark recess. It felt like finding a sanctuary. No one would bother her here. And, she wouldn't be a bother to anyone else, either.