Chapter 49 Introspection

Bill Adama sat beside the bed clasping Kara's limp hand in his as he mentally berated himself for driving her into this state. After the doctor's revelations in his office, Cottle had finally allowed him to come sit with Kara since she was still heavily sedated. The physician had made it clear that any future visiting privileges were dependent on Kara's mental condition upon her awakening. Sitting beside her still form, Bill slowly stroked her head, remembering doing this with his sons when they were little. His hand drifted down her pale cheek and he frowned at how hot she felt beneath his fingertips. Cottle had said she was getting medications to bring her temperature down, but it sure didn't feel like it was working. Worry further deepened the grooves of his face.

He watched her slow breaths, heard the slight rattle with each exhale.

What hell had she gone through on New Caprica to bring her to this point? He hadn't even the vaguest idea because he hadn't asked her, hadn't given her the chance to explain her actions and attitude since the exodus. Nor had he bothered to ask anyone else. No. Since she had appeared uninjured, he'd assumed she wasn't wounded.

Well, I was wrong wasn't I?

Earlier, while waiting for the doctor to finish his examination and give his report, Bill had had far too much time to replay the scene three days ago in the rec room. Why hadn't he seen then how badly she was hurting, seen her behavior for what it really was? What've I done? For he knew that his discussion with her had been the final push that had sent her crashing down.

Regardless of whatever she'd been through during the Occupation, he was responsible for her current condition. He'd shoved her from the chair. It had been his words that had figuratively kicked her while she was down. He'd been too angry at the time to acknowledge her pain. Now, replaying the encounter, he remembered how she'd avoided his eyes until she lay sprawled at his feet and heard the condemnations he'd practically spat at her. Her eyes had widened, then quickly shuttered again, but not before the devastating wound he'd inflicted had registered in their green depths.

In his personal life, Bill had let many people down, but he felt like he'd sunk to a new low, calling her names and threatening to kick her from her home, all without ever giving her a chance to explain herself. He had never even offered to listen. Shame heated his face.

Feeling a pair of tears track down his face, he lifted her hand to his cheek, wishing somehow that she could see how much he regretted his words and actions, how much she really meant to this foolish old man. Quietly clearing his throat of the constriction, Bill could only hope that it wasn't too late to repair their damaged relationship. First, though, they had to deal with the physical and mental fallout, and he could only hope that the Doc would have a plan.

[ I I I I I ]

After the meeting with Cottle, Lee had been called to the flight deck to deal with a pair of nuggets. The two young pilots had quickly learned that their CAG was in a shitty mood and willing to share it.

Once he'd handled that situation, he had been intercepted by the Chief asking after Starbuck. His first inclination had been to snap at the other man that it wasn't any of his business, but then he remembered the times Tyrol had tried to clue him in that something was wrong with Kara—and he'd completely blown him off. She wasn't the only one Lee owed an apology to. So, he'd told Tyrol that the doctor expected her to recover fine physically, and had left the unspoken concern about her mental state hanging since he didn't have any other answers at the moment.

Then he'd run into Dee in the corridor. She'd come looking for him, saying only that she'd thought they could have lunch together. Torn between his need to check on Kara and his guilt over his conflicted feelings towards Dee, Lee had agreed and struggled through a lunch he didn't want and a wife that suddenly seemed as unappealing, which only deepened the guilt he felt.

Afterwards, rather than going to sickbay as his heart demanded, Lee had returned to the CAG's office to work on the mound of reports that seemed to take up half his waking hours. Seated alone with the pilot rotation sheets spread before him, Lee's eyes kept roaming over the lists, wishing to see a certain name there but knowing it wasn't. And that was his doing.

Grounding her had seemed the right course of action at the time. Her reckless disregard of his orders could've gotten herself or others killed. Damn it, he'd had to revoke her flight status.

Shuffling the sheets together, he put them aside and pulled another stack towards him. Clicking the pen, Lee tried to focus his attention on the reports, knowing the sooner he finished the sooner he could check in with Cottle. After ten minutes of reading and rereading the same status update, he shoved the document away, watching as it fluttered off the desk to the metal-plated floor.

With a sigh, Lee stood and retrieved the flighty paper. Rather than return to his seat, he began to pace the small cabin, unconsciously crumpling the form in his hand as his agitation built. Anger quickened his breath. Anger at himself this time as he remembered Racetrack standing before him in this very room trying to tell him that Starbuck was sick. Remembered confronting Kara in the bunkroom. He'd blamed her appearance and behavior on a hangover, despite her denial. Totally ignored how shadowed her eyes were, how sunken her cheeks and the general gauntness to her previously muscular frame.

Swiveling on his heel, Lee threw the pen as hard as he could at the back wall, watching with a vague satisfaction as it broke on impact and the pieces scattered. His gratification abruptly turned to bitter recognition that he'd reacted the same with Kara. Let his anger—and hurt—lead him to strike out at her at every opportunity. And, just like the pen, she'd broken into pieces beneath his contempt.

Lords of Kobol, how had they gotten to this point?

He'd never meant to hurt her like this, he told himself, but a voice in his head whispered that he was lying. He had damned well meant to hurt her, make her feel some of the pain her rejection and defection had flayed him with. Each cutting word he'd flung at her had been well aimed and hit with a precision Lee had seen in the waver of the green eyes…and her pain had been a balm to his own. A year's worth of bile had been locked away inside of him, and Lee had finally found a way of expelling it. Since her returned to Galactica, he'd been spewing it over Kara with every word and look he gave her.

She didn't deserve what he'd done to her. Sure, her actions had torn a chunk of his soul away, but she'd had the right to make the choice she had. And, hell, maybe it had even been the right one. Looking at their relationship, Lee was ashamed of all the times he'd abused it, starting all the way back to Colonial Day and Baltar. He was the one that had been too afraid to declare himself, then had stepped aside for the VP and left early. What right did he have to throw it in Kara's face the next day? He had purposely goaded her, all but outright calling her a slut as he pushed her into throwing the first punch. He'd counted on it. It gave him the excuse to respond in kind because the jealous part of him wanted Kara to suffer for choosing someone other than him. With that incident, he'd set a precedent of strike and retaliation that would mar the rest of their relationship.

Lee put his palms against the wall, leaning for support as he faced all his failures in his dealings with Kara. On her return from Caprica, he hadn't even noticed that she was physically hurt. Had to learn later from Helo that Kara had been shot. That little nugget of information came out at the wake they'd held for one of the pilots killed by the Raider they'd nicknamed Scar. The drinking that night was winding down and Lee had found himself sitting at a corner table with Helo, both silently watching Kara off at another corner table nursing her umpteenth glass of ambrosia. Both men had consumed quite a bit of alcohol themselves and Lee wasn't too surprised when the Raptor pilot started muttering about Sharon, Caprica and the Resistance. His attention had quickly focused though when Helo let slip that Starbuck had been injured in an ambush. He'd coaxed more details from the drunk man and had sat back stunned when the full impact of Helo's revelations had struck him.

After their aborted attempt at sex, and Helo's revelations, Lee had decided to give Kara space. She obviously wasn't interested in him that way and he was determined not to ruin their friendship.

Then came the Pegasus and his spacewalk.

Looking back, Lee could see how Kara had reached out to him. At the time, he hadn't cared. He'd felt numb and just wanted to be left alone and had pushed her away, turned to others for solace instead of his best friend. And when she'd shot him on Cloud Nine, their already strained relationship took another blow. It was hard not to see it as one more of Starbuck's infamous frak-ups, especially when she didn't even bother to come visit him in sickbay. He had burnished the anger and resentment to a sharp point then impaled her with it when they'd both been assigned to the Pegasus. The guilt and pain that had flashed across her face recalled her expression when she'd apologized to him just before taking the Raider and returning to Caprica.

It seemed that he was always making her feel like shit, whether from physical blows or verbal.

Lee pushed off the wall and threw himself back in his chair, running hands through his hair as he remembered the jealous pain of seeing how happy Kara had looked when she'd introduced him to Samuel T Anders for the first time. Sure, she'd been drunk, but only part of that was due to the alcohol the two of them were knocking back. Kara was giddy in a way Lee hadn't seen since she'd been with his brother Zak. And just like Zak, Anders seemed to cherish Kara and dote on her, not judge and belittle her like he did. It was no frakking wonder she had fled from Lee when morning had come on New Caprica. Anders was the better man.

And now he was dead, just like Zak.

"Gods, Kara, I'm so frakking sorry," he put the apology out into the empty room, hoping desperately that he'd have the chance to give it to her in person.