Chapter 60 Requests & Requirements

As Laura entered the Admiral's quarters, she saw Kara rise from her chair and give a hesitant nod. The younger woman didn't look nearly so drawn compared to just the night before. Roslin was surprised at the difference and wondered at the cause, rather hoping that she had played a part in Kara's improved appearance, it made her decision to come over tonight, despite the recent Cylon attack, seem the right one.

Laura settled into the comfortable chair near where Kara still stood, but remained silent, choosing to study the hesitant eyes that kept glancing at her before shifting away again.

"Admiral says I need a lot of help," Kara finally said, her gaze again bouncing off Laura's intent one and settling off to the side.

"I'd like to help, if you'd let me." Laura's words brought the emerald gaze back to her own. There was a hint of vulnerability beneath the wary look Kara gave her.

"Momma always said the gods help those that help themselves," Starbuck quipped, shifting so she stood hands on hips and chin jutting slightly forward with a smirk lighting her lips but not reaching her still hesitant eyes.

Taking a moment, Laura considered both the words and the strong resurgence of Starbuck's cocky demeanor before saying, "Is that why you find it difficult to let others help?"

Kara's gaze wavered then met hers. "Others only offer to 'help' when they want something in return." Her regard was challenging now. "So, what's your angle, Laura?"

"You don't believe one person would help another just because they care?"

"Nope."

The answer, brief as it was, carried a multitude of meanings to Laura's ears. Within that short word, she heard the years of experience that had taught the younger woman that her trust would be betrayed, that claims of caring always came with strings, that the price for opening herself to others was pain. And yet…she hadn't said No. The difference of two added letters conveyed room for doubt, the dare implicit in Kara's tone. Prove me wrong.

Laura probed for a way to do just that, "Then what motive do I have?"

"Don't know. Maybe you just want to look good for the Old Man."

Kara's use of the crew's nickname for the Admiral gave her a thread to grasp.

"I'll concede there's an element of that. I care about Bill Adama. I want to help him. He asked me and I said yes." She gave her words a moment to make their point before continuing, "But I care for you, too." She scrutinized the younger woman for signs that she was getting through, but her hope sagged as she saw Kara abruptly stiffened and anger flush her cheeks.

"It wasn't a dream, was it? You were there," Kara demanded, voice rising with her accusation. Laura immediately grasped that Kara was referring to their time together in the apartment cell; she must have just remembered some of it.

Considering how to explain herself, she saw the younger woman misinterpret her hesitation and turn away. She quickly spoke up, "Yes, I was there. The Cylons had brought me in for questioning about the Resistance. Held me for several days. On the third day they brought me to the apartment. Didn't say why, just locked me in. When I saw you…" she paused, distressed by the memory of the condition she'd found Kara in. She cleared her throat. "I was so relieved that you were still alive—"

"Right." The bitterness and disbelief dripped from Starbuck as she spun around again. "That's why you left me there. Left me with him."

"What would you have had me do, Captain?" Laura's guilt-inspired anger made her say sharply, "Take out the Cylons by myself. I was a prisoner, too." She inhaled deeply, then exhaled and felt the anger flow out. "I'm sorry, Kara. I didn't know…didn't know they were using me. I just wanted to help you."

"A lot of good your help did me."

Rubbing tiredly at her eyes, Laura realized that they had come full circle, right back to Kara's belief that she could only rely on herself. She sought some way of shedding a different perspective on what had passed between them. A glimmer of an idea came to her.

"I've always heard that Starbuck doesn't run from a fight. Ever."

There! She saw the green eyes spark and knew she'd found the hold she needed. "You were catatonic when I found you. You'd given up. Given in."

"Frak you," the quick retort, but the words were hollow echoes.

"No, Kara. You were lost. Whatever they'd put you through was too much to handle on your own."

"And you think you did me a favor?" Kara resentfully demanded, her anger flaring again. "How did it help me? I was safe from them—from him—but you brought me back. Congrats on that. Thanks a whole hell of a lot for nothing."

Lords, her walls are nearly as thick as her head!

Laura gave a frustrated sigh, then her eyes narrowed. "What bothers you most, that I brought you back…or the fact that you hid in the first place?"

"Frak you," Kara said again, this time spinning away and beginning to pace across the cabin's short length, refusing to look at Laura.

Laura could see the internal conflict in the tense set of Kara's shoulders and the way she held her arms locked at her side. She let her be. The next move was up to Kara. Watching the figure prowl the Admiral's quarters, Laura caught a glimpse of how confining those long months would have been to someone so driven to action. She must have found it suffocating to be trapped and helpless like that.

Pulled back from her musings as Kara halted before the paper-strewn desk, Laura watched her reach out with a shaking hand to lift a pill vial from amidst the mess. Laura stood, suddenly worried as shudders rolled through the lean frame.

"Kara…"

[ I I I I I ]

"Kara…" Laura's voice sounded distant as the Admiral's cabin receded and the grey walls of her New Caprican cell surrounded her again.

She rose slowly to her feet as the Six entered, one of her pet Centurion dogging her high heels. The Cylon's gaze was calculating and Kara met it with undisguised hatred; it wasn't like the skin-job didn't already know how she felt.

So intent was she on trying to psychically bore a hole through her tormentor that she didn't notice that the false woman had something wrapped around her right hand until the long fingers flexed and the coil of brown unwound downward. It took a moment to identify the object, but once she recognized that it was a leather strap, Kara stiffened and couldn't—quite—hide the pained memories from childhood it invoked.

"Do you like my new toy?" Six ran the three-foot length of hide between thumb and forefinger, and then looked up with a smile that promised that Starbuck would come to hate the 'toy' very shortly. "Brother Cavil suggested it. Said it rarely causes permanent damage yet makes a highly effective training tool. Thought I'd give it a go."

The inch wide strap didn't closely resemble the black belt that had been one of her mom's favorite forms of punishment. Yet, as Kara stared at it, the memory of her mother ominously slapping the belt against her leg as she approached the cowering Kara invaded her mind.

Yanking her eyes from the length of leather, she schooled her face into a impassive mask as she met the eyes of her tormentor. Kara knew by the pleased smile stretching the Cylon's face that the skin-job hadn't missed her initial reaction.

"Take off your shirts," Six ordered.

Starbuck's green eyes widened briefly in surprise; every since the first day the Toaster had seemed to take pleasure in personally striping Kara's tanks from her. Too caught off kilter to find a suitable comeback, Starbuck concentrated on appearing bored as she painfully lifted the tanks over her head and put them aside with a negligent toss.

As the Centurion locked the loathsome cuffs around her wrists, its large form temporarily blocked her from the skin-job's view and Kara closed her eyes, trying to prepare herself for the coming session. Why did it have to be a frakkin' belt? Did the gods really believe she deserved this? That thought brought forth its own roiling pain as the image of Lee looking at her with devastation in his eyes taunted her with her sins. So, maybe she did deserve it. Maybe she had angered the gods with her rejection of their gift of love and the Cylons had been sent to enact penance on her for that cowardice. Her mother had certainly spouted off enough that weakness and fear were to be severely punished. It all fit. This punishment was the result of her choices.

Kara opened her eyes as the Centurion strung her up on the hook. Her shoulders and arms immediately began to cramp as muscles not yet recovered from the previous sessions were strained yet again as they took on the full weight of her body. When the guard returned to its silent post by the door, Six deigned to approach.

Walking slowly about the slightly swaying form, Six laid a hand on Kara's straining chest, probably noticing how the position made it even more difficult for her to breathe. As Starbuck stared fierce spears at her Cylon inquisitor, she ached for a real spike to drive through the pseudo-woman. Six, unperturbed, merely responded with a smile of anticipation, letting Kara see the gloating pleasure that foretold of the pain that she was about to inflict.

When the Cylon stepped behind her, Kara gritted her teeth, anticipating the impact. At the first strike of the strap across her back, her head reared up, arching in surprise despite thinking herself prepared. By the fifth stroke, the Cylon had found her rhythm, and Starbuck rasped out curses at her tormentor. With the tenth lick of the leather, the Six was beginning to perspire while clamminess coated Kara's swaying body.

With the next shocking thwack, she flashed back to the times her mother had used the belt for punishment. She distantly heard the Cylon demanding information between each blow, but the voice was mutating into the more familiar one from her childhood. Each strike now was preceded by her mother's scornful words.

'You're soft, Kara' —A layer of fire laid across her shoulders—

'You're a quitter, and always have been' —A cross-thatch welting her skin—

'These grades are pathetic' —The lash licking pain between naked shoulderblades—

'What are you going to do now, cry?' —The sensitive skin of her lower back raked.

Even as the pain radiated outward from her back, Kara absorbed it inward, taking it as the discipline she deserved. Failure and weakness must be punished.

As each successive slap of the strap was accompanied by remembered taunts and curses that were nearly as painful as the physical lashes, Kara didn't know when she passed from the mingled present/past torment into unconsciousness. Chilled wetness doused her awake again. Blinking water from her lashes, Kara muzzily realized she still hung helpless from her raw wrists. A clatter and motion drew her wavering gaze from the puddling water between her feet to the side where an empty bottle rolled to rest against the cell wall. Then a hand was gripping a handful of her dripping hair and, yanking back, forced her to look up.

Kara tried to bring her wavering gaze into focus.

"What are Galactica's nuclear armament numbers?" she heard Six demand. Giving her head a small shake against the pressure of the hand knotted in her hair, Starbuck let her eyes close again, ignoring the woman and concentrating on breathing through the pain.

The hand gripping her gave a twisting shake, snapping Kara's eyes open to meet the tall blonde's glare.

"Answer me!"

"…frak you," her weak reply, all she could manage to dredge up past the pulsing agony.

"Wrong answer again, Captain. You really must learn to follow orders. Maybe that's why Admiral Adama abandoned you." The taunt hit its mark and Starbuck jerked her head free of the woman's grasp.

"You lie," she hissed, suddenly livid.

"Oh, yes. The Galactica, Pegasus and their brave Adama commanders both jumped away as soon as we arrived." Leaning in closer, Six whispered, "They ran. Abandoned all the Colonists. They left you behind. Probably thankful they had an excuse, don't you think, Starbuck?"

Glaring at the mocking gaze, Kara felt the spreading tendrils of doubt. She clamped down on her tongue, and the creeping suspicion. The Admiral had to jump away, a necessary retreat to give him time to regroup for a counter-attack. He wouldn't leave her—them—behind. And Lee wouldn't…

She didn't finish that thought, suddenly unsure of the answer.

The Six must have seen that she'd hit a nerve, because she suddenly sounded almost cheerful as she said, "Let's start again, shall we?"

At some point she must have passed out again, for she woke alone in the silent cell, sprawled on her belly, too weak from shock to even curl in on the pain.

Fire licked across Kara's back, charring her thoughts and broiling away what sense of self and hope she had left.

It was too much… Too much abuse and agony. The weeks of isolation, followed by beatings, little food, and the ever present mocking voices, both real and remembered, had leeched her spirit to a wraith. The leather strap was the last blow, invoking too many traumas at once, past and present, physical and emotional. The panes Starbuck had held in place to distance herself from the escalating pain weren't nearly enough to protect her from this level of prolonged torment. As each crumbled, she felt an abyss open beneath her as hope dissipated into a sucking despair.

Every shallow inhale that stabbed her chest was followed by an exhaled, "…no more," moaned into the darkness of her existence. In the emptiness that her world had narrowed to, Kara finally admitted that her mother had been right. She was too weak. Always had been. She'd been coming to this point her entire life. Through her weakness, she would betray all those that depended on her. The next time she was questioned, she knew she'd tell them anything—everything—to end the torment.

After a time, the screech of her cell door opening causing Kara to flinch. She didn't bother to open her eyes as footsteps moved closer to where she lay. Tears trailed down her cheeks as Kara felt her failure heralded by the figure standing over her. She waited to be dragged upright, hopelessness forbidding her even a token bit of resistance.

Eventually she opened her eyes, looking up into a face that reflected her own anguish. Sharon... Boomer... An Eight… Whomever—whatever—she was, held something in her hand. Pills.

They were pills.

Kara took a deep gasp and jerked rigid, wide eyes darting about the Admiral's suite as the flashback dissolved around her. Shudders still racked her body, but there was no physical pain now, just the caustic memory of what had been held at bay by one of the obsidian barriers in her mind.

Clenching the vial of sleeping pills Cottle had given her, Kara was buffeted by the pain of the remembered beating and the shame of her desertion afterwards. Through all the years of abuse as a child, she had never just given up before. The taste of ashes coated her tongue and Kara felt herself choking. She pulled her arm back and hurled the pills—and succor they promised—away. She knew now that she didn't deserve it.

[ I I I I I ]

Laura saw the shudders that rocked Kara, and started to hurry to the younger woman only to come to a halt a step away, suddenly recalling how ill-advised it was to touch Starbuck. Torn by an indecision foreign to her nature, she found herself held immobile, unsure on how to handle the volatile woman. Her face tightened as she watched Kara abruptly hunch over and flinch from unseen blows.

She had about decided to send the guard for the doctor when Kara had straightened and seemed to be coming out of the fit. Laura twitched back as Kara cocked her arm and threw the bottle she still held against the nearest wall. It struck the metal with a twang and ricocheted to roll beneath one of the chairs.

"Coward... Weak frakkin' coward," Laura heard her gasp out as Kara stumbled back, putting hands over her ears as her breaths rasped in and out. "Wh…why didn't…kill me," she was muttering now, her words coming is broken burst that Laura could barely make out. "Should've done it…too mu…coward…self."

When the back of her legs bumped into the chair, Kara folded into it, hunching over her knees. Troubled, Laura scrutinized her, trying to piece together some coherent meaning from the fragmented words. Does she think herself a coward? Well, wasn't that was Laura had been goading her with just a few minutes ago when she'd said that Kara had given up when she'd gone catatonic?

Moving to her side, Laura cautiously wrapped an awkward arm around the hunched form. When Kara didn't strike out or pull away, she began stroking the blonde hair, murmuring soothing words—just as she had those many weeks ago in a grey prison disguised as a home. After a time, the clenched muscles beneath her arm eased and she released her hold as Kara straightened in the chair.

"I'm a frakked-up mess. Should've just left me there," the words came out clear now, but flat and defeated, stirring Laura's frustration again.

Giving in to the urge, she grasped Kara's shoulders and gave her a firm shake, watching her expression turn from despair to surprise. "Stop it! That's about enough self-pity out of you, Captain."

Kara was on her feet in an instant, slapping the hands away then giving the older woman a shove that sent Laura stumbling back several steps.

"You don't get it! I am frakkin' pitiful!" Kara's outburst continued as she covered the distance between them, "A coward, just like you said. Too weak." Close now, she jabbed a finger into Laura's chest. "I broke. Don't you get it. I was gonna tell them anything they wanted. Do whatever… I—frakkin'—broke!"

Laura fought the urge to retreat from the menace of emotion roiling off of Kara, instead, she steeled herself and reached out, gently resting her palms on the quivering arms, bracing for another violent response.

"Anyone would have. Even the infamous Starbuck's not invincible," said Laura and the form beneath her hands stilled. "You're human, not a Cylon. Human's break. Then we pull ourselves back together and go on. We go on."

"And what if I can't—if there's not enough left?" Kara bitterly asked.

"Then you let us help you."

Seeing uncertainty and antipathy twist Kara's features, Laura shoved her own impatience aside, silently reminding herself that the young woman was probably feeling both wounded and cornered, and that it was going to take more than a few words to coax her into trusting anyone. Still, it was difficult now that, as President, Laura had grown use to people doing as she directed. But she'd learned the art of manipulation and patience in the political arena, and now she found those skills useful again.

"Just ask," she prompted, voice purposely mild and expression non-judgmental.

"I…I don't…" Kara began, then trailed off.

"You don't…what?" she prompted. "Don't want to ask or don't know how? Or maybe…how to begin?"

Now, as Kara's feelings flashed across her angular features, Laura easily recognized, and understood, the confusion and fear reflected in her expression, but was unsure how to interpret what she could only perceive as…revulsion? Was Kara revolted at the thought of sharing the traumatic experiences or at what those experiences were. Again…maybe both?

The ex-school teacher mentally reviewed what little she new about victims of abuse, and what reading material the doctor had managed to scrounge up for her. A common issue was the belief by the victim that they were responsible for their abuse. That somehow they'd caused or deserved what had happened to them. Knowing the mind games the Cylons seemed especially proficient at playing, Laura could envision several scenarios that could account for Kara's reactions.

Fingering the ring on the chain about her neck, Kara tried again, "I don't…" As she hesitated once again, Laura could tell that she was obviously getting frustrated at her inability to explain. Then she took a breath and quickly said, "Just ask me something, will you." It was likely as close to asking for help as Kara could manage.

"I can do that," Laura agreed, knowing now how she could help. She would try it Starbuck's way. Treat it as a true debrief. "I need a timeline on what they did to you during your captivity, Captain." Waving Kara back into her seat, Laura moved her own chair so she directly faced the Colonial Officer, then settled with hands clasped on her crossed knees. "The reports indicate you were detained for a little over four months," she stated. "You said that during the first six weeks Leoben held you and you weren't subjected to any interrogation?"

"That's correct," Starbuck answered formally.

"But then you were remanded into the Six's custody, and she used various methods of interrogation?" She paused until the blonde head nodded reluctant assent. As she continued, Laura strove to keep her voice steady and neutral for the next part,

"You said the Six wasn't very imaginative. You've told me some of what she did. What haven't you told me?" Laura caught the shift in the younger woman's eyes and posture and knew she'd hit a nerve. "What else did the Six do to you," she asked again, putting a hint of command in her voice now.

She was surprised when Kara stood and slowly turned around while removing her tank tops. Twin pale scars were a lighter white against the flesh-pink skin of Kara's back. Biting her lip, Laura looked at the slowly fading marks and wondered what damage they signified to younger woman. Of course she'd known about them from the doctor's report, but seeing them made Kara's ordeal seem more physically…present.

As Starbuck quickly slipped back into her tops and resumed her seat, their eyes met, and Laura saw the embarrassed shame hiding in their depths. Was this what had broken her? No way to know without asking the source.

"What happened?" Laura probed.

Kara was fidgeting now, and Laura watched her shift in her seat for the third time and still not look up again.

"Captain?"

When the words came, Laura almost missed them.

"Not sure."

"About what was done to you. Or what you did?" She slid forward to the edge of her chair, and ducked her head, trying to catch Kara's eyes.

"I-I don't know. I mean… I remember now, but it's still a blur," the words were mumbled, with a touch of defiance, but Kara still refused to meet Laura's questioning gaze.

Laura sat back, considering the tense figure before her and what she'd said. Memory impairment about a traumatic experience wasn't unheard of. But what did she do now?

"Ok. I understand." Laura nodded, and then asked matter-of-factly, "Tell me what you can remember…and anything after."

Worrying her lip, Kara finally looked up. "Six. It was the Six. She was coming at me…something in her hand, I-I think… Frak! I don't know! And I don't want to!" She was abruptly up again and heading towards the hatch, obviously intending to end their session.

Laura saw the startled look on the woman Marine's face as she turned when Kara yank the door open and move to step across the threshold. Giving the Sergeant a quick headshake, the President communicated to her that Kara wasn't to be allowed to pass. Immediately responding, Mathias planted herself solidly in front of the entrance, one hand held palm outward.

"Get the frak outta my way," Starbuck said, raising her own arm to push by the shorter but solidly built guard.

Mathias was quick. With a swift parry and shove, she had Kara twisted around and stumbling back inside.

As Starbuck spun around, face suffused with rage, "Kara, stop," Sergeant Mathias commanded, and Laura was startled to see the volatile pilot halt. Her fists were closed tight and half raised; she seemed ready to launch herself at the female Marine…but she didn't.

From her position, Laura couldn't see the byplay that passed between the two, she just heard the Sergeant say, "It's not a weakness," and watched Starbuck jerk back, then suddenly throw her arms up in the air as she turned from the door and marched over to the nearest chair, sullenly sprawling sideways against its arms, with hers crossed over her chest. The action and Kara's expression were so reminiscent of a child's tantrum that Laura had the inappropriate desire to laugh at the recalcitrant young woman. Firmly suppressing the urge, she gave a nod of thanks to the guard and watched her pull the hatch closed again. Laura resumed her seat and templed her fingertips to silently consider the woman across from her.

"Talk to me," she neutrally ordered.

Kara flicked a glance towards her before returning her sulky gaze forward again. Laura saw her moisten her lips and swallow several times. That's when it struck her that Kara's acting out was due to fear. Laura remembered something the Admiral had said in relation to his hotshot pilot. He'd said that Starbuck turned fear into anger and believed that it kept her alive. It certainly explained the yo-yoing of her reactions.

"Whatever the Cylons did to you is in the past. You're safe here. You know that," Laura said, seeking to reassure her.

"Not that damned simple," Kara muttered, then pushed around so she was sitting up and facing Laura. "I know it's over…but it's not. I see things. Like it's happening again. And it's so frakkin' real." Her hands rubbed damp streaks along her pants' legs as she added, "One minute I'm here, then I'm back there again…and I hate it!"

Laura straightened. No one had told her that Kara was having flashbacks. Did they even know? She racked her memory for what she knew about the memory flashes. Not nearly enough, she realized. Fine. She'd just have to speak with Dr Cottle later.

Tapping her finger on her knee, she wondered what to do now. Taking a breath, she said, "What you're having are called flashbacks." As Kara gave her a 'like duh' look, she tilted her head in acknowledgment. "Ok. So you're already familiar with the term. Then you know they're perfectly natural."

"Nothing natural about 'em."

"Noooo... But a reasonable reaction given your experiences on New Caprica."

"Calling me reasonable? Sure you have the right person, Madam President," Starbuck taunted.

Laura saw the evasion, recognized that Kara was trying to derail her questions again.

Lords, this was more exhausting than arguing with the Quorum—and there are twelve of them!

"Captain, you were telling me about the Six. What she did to cause those marks on your back. You said she had something in her hand. What was it?" she pressed, hoping that she wasn't about to trigger one of Kara's flashbacks. Abruptly Kara's reaction a few minutes ago—and yesterday—became clear. How could she not have understood what she was seeing? Laura closed her eyes briefly, feeling the weight of her ignorance pressing in upon her.

Eyes blinking open again, she took a breath and straightened. Someone had to do the job and, just as Laura had risen to take on the responsibility of the Presidency, so, too, she now brought her focus back across to where Kara was fidgeting with her fingers. She could do this. She would do it.

"Kara?"

The words were murmured too low in response for Laura to hear.

Laura leaned forwards. "What?"

"A belt…it-it was a belt," repeated Kara, still barely a whisper.

"What significance does that have to you?" she asked, and gave a mental nod as the younger woman gave her a bleak look.

"My mom, she use to…" Kara trailed off, twining her fingers together and staring down at them.

"Your mother hurt you with a belt, too?" Laura's stomach twisted as the image of a blonde little girl cowering beneath blows flash across her mind. Of course. It had been too much to hope that Kara's past hadn't gotten tangled up with her time with the Cylons. "So, the Cylon beat you, just like your mother?"

"Yeah… I think so. I mean it's all kind of confused. Got mixed in with my mom."

Considering Kara's bent head and white-knuckled hands, Laura pondered if pushing any more was a good idea. Deciding that she might not get her back to this point, she asked, "Is that what broke you?"

"I guess," Kara said, lifting a hand to rub at her forehead. "It was afterwards. It hurt so much, and everything my mom said was true, and I just wanted it to stop, you know. Then she came. And I asked her and she wouldn't... Should've done it myself."

Now Laura was lost. Who came. The Six? And wouldn't what? Done what? She suddenly felt like she'd missed a whole section of the conversation.

"Who? Who wouldn't what?"

"Boomer." The blonde head ducked lower. "She was a friend once. I use to raz her for spooching her landings." A harsh chuckle rattled though the cabin, then Kara coughed, like her chest was too tight. Catching her breath, she continued, "She came with pills for the pain. I asked her to make it stop…permanently. She wouldn't. I asked her for help and she refused. Lot of good it does to ask." This time the look she gave Laura was accusing.

"Boomer. The sleeper Eight that shot the Admiral?" At Kara's nod, "What did she refuse to do? What should you have done?"

"She had a sidearm. Asked her to finish it. She just gave me the pills and left."

"You wanted her to shoot you?"

"I just wanted it to stop… And I knew...knew I'd spill my guts the next time," Kara said in a voice desolate with shame and she knotted her hands back together.

Laura heard the deep pain and guilt. She'd been pretty sure she'd understood what Kara was getting at, but facing the bald truth that the Cylons had brought her to that place brought home the depths of what she'd been through.

Leaning across, Laura rested her hand atop Kara's clenched ones. "We all have a point when it's too much. Courage is finding a way to get back up again. You chose not to die. Now, choose again." She gave the cold fingers beneath hers a squeeze. "Let us give you the support you need. Just until you find your balance again."

"But I didn't. I gave up."

"Did you kill yourself? Did you tell them any of Galactica's secrets?"

"No, but…I was going to."

"And even if you had, hadn't the Admiral already taken measures knowing that the Cylons would have access to Colonial Officers? Changed codes or whatever." At Kara's grudging nod, "And since you didn't know the Admiral's actual rescue plans, you couldn't give them any useful information along that front either."

"Yeah, I guess," Kara grudgingly agreed, pulling her hands from Laura's to cross in front of her.

Laura took a moment to consider her own words. In fact, the Cylons had to have known that any information they succeeded in extracting from those left on New Caprica would be of limited value. Which brought up the question, why even interrogate Captain Thrace in the first place? Putting that question aside for another time, Laura took in Kara's slumped posture and wane face, and decided that they'd covered enough tonight. Better to let her think on what had been said than to push it when she was obviously at the end of her emotional rope.

Her hand still rested on the green-clad knee and Laura gave it a pat before rising. She arched her back slightly, trying to work some of the tension loose from aging muscles before speaking again.

"We'll pick this up again tomorrow. Right now, I think you could use some time." Laura moved to the door but stopped short and turned back to see Kara watching her with a hooded gaze. "Captain, thank you for working with me." Seeing the brief lightening of the shadows masking the green eyes, she knew the younger woman had registered her approval.

With a gracious nod to the Sergeant at the hatch, Laura headed back to Colonial One.