Chapter 75 Shared Experiences

The guard knocked on the hatch and announced Colonel Tigh, causing Kara to jerk her head up from the book she'd been highlighting. From long habit, she immediately ran over a guilty inventory of possible reasons the Colonel might be here to see her. Almost as quickly, she concluded that the man's motive for visiting probably had no connection to any of her past misdeeds.

Stepping around the table, she moved hesitantly to greet Tigh. He looked pretty good, she absently noted. As she approached him, she realized that smell the alcohol vapors that usually clung to him was gone, and his eyes were focused and intense as they met hers.

"Colonel, Sir, this is a surprise," she blurted out. "Um, you want a drink? Water or…something," she waved vaguely towards the Admiral's bar. Though his gaze shifted to the bottles, Tigh shook his head.

"I've been reinstated as XO. Best not, first day back and all," he said, rubbing his hands down the sides of his blue uniform pants.

"So, what can I do you for, Sir?"

"Admiral said you're updating contingency plans for the fleet. Thought I could give you the benefit of my experienced eye," he replied, pointing to his face, with a wry grin at his pun.

"Of course, Colonel." Her own eyes lingered on the blatant proof of the torture he had suffered at the hands of the Cylons. She jerked her gaze away and returned to the hodgepodge of papers and books, knowing that Tigh would follow.

The Colonel had made a quick evaluation of Starbuck's condition during their interchange. With a quiet grunt to himself, the older officer decided she looked a lot better than he'd expected. There was a haunted pain shadowing her expression, but the desperation he'd last seen was missing. So it was with a slightly eased mind that he crossed to stand beside her.

With the XO at her elbow, Kara laid out her recommend changes, at least the ones she'd identified so far. She listed the pros and cons of each, responding confidently to his questions.

Listening as she presented her ideas, Tigh breathed a further sigh of relief. Whatever she'd experienced on New Caprica hadn't managed to completely destroy the young woman that enthusiastically shoved papers and diagrams his way. Though he wondered how far beneath the surface her calm actually ran.

From what he'd heard…not very far.

"These look like a good start. A bit…unorthodox, but the Admiral's rather partial to your radical style," the Colonel said. Then, as he tapped several sheets with a forefinger, "Do a report on these four plans and I'll review them with the Admiral and Apollo. See if there's any reasons we can't make them SOP. Good work, Captain," he gave her a nod of approval that had her straightening her stance.

"Thank you, Sir."

Rubbing his jaw, Tigh decided it was time to bring up the other reason for his visit. "I admit I asked the Admiral to see you today, and when he told me what you were up to," he waved at the workbench, "it seemed a two birds, one stone thing." Kara's eyes narrowed and she tensed.

"I wanted to see how you're doing, Captain," he said.

"Fine, Colonel," she briskly answered.

"Strange definition of fine you have there, Starbuck."

"Yeah. It's all relative, I guess, Sir," she said, shifting uncomfortably beneath his intense regard.

With a shake of his head, Tigh decided that he was going to have to be blunt to get anywhere with her. "Heard about Anders… Wanted to say sorry…and if, you know, you needed to talk about being in there, Kara. Well, I know what it was like."

Her eyebrows rose at his rare use of her first name, and she swallowed. So, he was willing for this to be between them, off the record. There were questions she had. Questions about his time in the detention center. Probably questions only he could answer, assuming she had the courage to ask them. Familiar agitation forced her to pace the Admiral's work area. With a grimace to herself, she wondered if she were wearing a path on the carpeting.

"Kara?" Tigh prompted again.

"What happened?" She stopped to face him. "What happened to you…in there?" she asked, not needing to specify exactly where.

Tigh searched her face, wondering what she really wanted to hear—to know.

With a shrug, he said, "At first it wasn't so bad. I've stayed in rat-traps that were as bad, you know. Came in concussed so I'm a little hazy on early details," he explained before continuing, "But, they left me alone for better part of a week, I think. Then this Cavil, the preacher one from Caprica." He glanced over to see her nod that she knew whom he meant. "Now, that's one smarmy bastard. Tells me he knows I won't break easy, so he's decided to go straight to the good stuff. Actually said 'good stuff' if you can believe that." He gave a harsh laugh, then cleared his throat, feeling his mouth go dry as he recalled what came next.

Kara, recognizing his need, rose and filled a glass with water and silently handed it to him. He barely glanced at her as he took the tumbler and drained it.

"Bastard had a pair of Toasters hold me down while he plucked my eye out. Remember it looking like an egg when he showed it to me…after I'd stopped yelling, that is."He halted as he saw Kara's expression change, puzzled by her reaction, by the skepticism in the depths of the green eyes. "You don't believe me?" He said slowly, scrutinizing her. "What, you don't think that I screamed?" The flicker of her eyes again betrayed her. "Oh, I screamed alright, Starbuck. Hollered my bloody head off. Nothing unmanly in letting loose a good yell when an eye's being gouged out," he grimly stated.

"No, Sir," she hastily agreed.

"So, they make you scream, too, huh, Captain?" he slowly asked, frowning as he saw her go stiffly still, then convulsively swallow and wet her lip.

Tigh moved nearer, feeling an unaccustomed desire to offer her comfort, but stopped short, knowing that the young woman wouldn't likely accept it from him. Grimacing as he considered what it must have taken to reduce Starbuck to screaming, Saul shrewdly guessed that she probably saw it as proof of weakness.

Didn't the fool girl know that everyone screams in the end?

With his jaw jutting forward aggressively, "You called me weak once, remember?" he prodded.

Kara flinched, knowing she had no right to call anyone else weak. Not after all she'd done. But she owed him an answer. Forcing the shameful words out, even though knowing she'd just be confirming his original opinion of her, "I'm the frakkin' weak one…they broke me," she confessed in a voice hoarse with self-loathing.

"Godsdamnit, Starbuck. You really believe that?" he demanded, then grimaced at her jerky nod.

Latching a hand onto each of her shoulders, he gave her a shake, barely restraining the anger that insisted he keep shaking until some sense settled into the blonde head. "They had you in that frakkin' hellhole for months, Kara. I got a taste of what they put you through. Remember, I got first hand knowledge the hard way. The way they used words and pain to wring out all the hope, leaving nothing but dust." She twitched beneath his hands, but he didn't let it distract him. "I survived it, too," he said, the bitter memories roughening his voice, "And I'm telling you, that no one—no one—keeps from cracking if tortured long enough. What makes you think that you'd be the exception, huh?" He gave her another shake, demanding that she yield to his words.

As her expression closed off, he could tell she didn't agree, probably believing that she should've died before breaking. Well, frak her. Death was easy. Survival took guts.

He forced her to meet his gaze. "Am I weak?" When she didn't answer, "Captain Thrace, I asked you a question, and by-gods I'll have an honest answer from you. Do you think I'm weak?" he repeated.

Forced to face him, Kara considered what he'd said, what he'd asked. She had called him weak once, believing it at the time. Since then he'd proved himself over and again. Was he weak? Did it make a difference if he yelled—screamed—when the Cylons tortured him? He hadn't betrayed the Resistance, hadn't given away information, she knew that. She'd also seen how physically and emotionally damaged he'd been afterwards. Who was she to judge him because he hadn't kept stoically silent like one of those hokey heroes on the media screens?

"No, Sir. You're not," she finally said, lifting her eyes to his so he knew she meant it.

"Then why in all the seven-little-hells do you think you are?"

She couldn't keep eye contact now, staring at a point beyond his head. "I begged, Sir. I…and I let him..." She clamped her eyes closed, shame flaying her cheeks red. Forcing the rest out, " And I-I was going to do what they wanted. Going to collaborate," she confessed.

"What the frak are you talking about?"

"She was going to take Kacey. And I couldn't…I couldn't lose her." Her voice rising, "Only I did…cause she was never mine!" As Kara's face dissolving into grief and rage, she slapped Tigh's hand from her arm and backed away,. Turning from his startled regard, she swept her arms across the workbench, creating a whirlwind of papers and books as they scattered before her emotional storm.

With hands grasping the edge, Kara gave an enraged shout and lifted, flipping the Admiral's table onto its side with a rattling thud. Twisting, she grabbed the nearest stool and flung it skittering across the room. As she reached for another, arms abruptly wrapped around her torso, locking her own to her side. With another bellow, she shoved back against the restraining weight, driving them into the wall. A pained grunt from behind sent a spike of satisfaction through the fabric of her enveloping furor, and she thrust back again, only to find herself twisted around and face-planted into the wall.

Now there were two sets of hands securing her in place as she thrashed to get free, cursing and screaming, but unable to shake loose from their hold. Words were being shouted at her, yet they were lost in the folds of her frantic fury as she screamed, "KACE… WHERE'S KACEY? KACEY!"

"… arbuck! Stop! Damnit, Thrace…"

"…atch the elbow."

"Stop it…righ…akkin now!"

"Captain! Kara!"

"Who's Kacey? STOP! Kara who's Kacey?" The cloak obscuring her mind finally parted as Tigh shouted Kacey's name in her ear.

One moment Kara was struggling beneath the restraining hands, then abruptly she stilled. Her breath rasped in and out in the resulting silence as both Tigh's and Mathias' voices also broke off as she yielded.

The XO found his voice first. "Frak-it-all, Thrace. You gone so far round the bend you circling back again, girl?"

"Colonel, I don't thin—" Mathias started to protest.

"Can it, Sergeant. She can speak for herself," he interrupted, dropping his hands and stepping back. "So, what the frak was all that about, Thrace? Who the hell's this Kacey?"

As the Marine also released her hold and edged a few paces to the side, Kara gave her shoulders a shake and turned. Without responding to his question, she crossed to the discarded stool and returned it to its spot by the overturned table. She ignored the Colonel and slowly gathered the mess strewn about the floor into an untidy pile before swiveling to meet the double-set of concerned eyes.

"Someone gonna give me a hand here?" she asked, tone and gaze flat. The woman Marine grabbed one end of the table as Kara took the other and they tipped it upright with a quick heave. After scooping up the documents and dropping them negligently back on the workbench, Kara ignored Tigh's scowl and settled into one of the chairs, folding her hands in her lap, and waited.

Her wait wasn't long.

"Got nothing to say for yourself?" Tigh asked. "Just tidy up and pretend it didn't happen, huh?" He moved across to lower himself into the seat facing hers. Both ignored Mathias as she took a spot by the hatch. "So…what's finally rattled out of that box of a head of yours, Starbuck?"

Silence met his words as Kara kept her eyes on her fingers, their white knuckles belying her otherwise calm appearance.

A thought came to him as he glanced around the Admiral's quarters. If she was afraid of how he, Saul Tigh, would judge her, how much more fearful was she of the Admiral's reaction? The belief that her father-figure would condemn her must be nearly unbearable for Kara. Well, she was going to have to work that out with the Old Man, though a word dropped in Bill's ear might help him confront the young woman's fears. Saul made a mental note to do just that as soon as the opportunity arose.

His gaze sharpened as he saw Kara loosen her hands long enough to wipe them along the sides of her khaki pants before crossing them protectively around her.

"Thrace, you Ok?" The unexpected gentleness in his voice startled an answer from her.

"Haven't been that in a long time, Sir," she admitted. "Sometimes I'm not even sure I made it out of there. That maybe I'm just dreaming all this," she said with a vague wave about her.

"You having flashbacks?" As her eyes flitted to his and away, he said, "Yeah, they get me at times, too. Never know when one'll hit," he confided to her. As she raised a questioning eyebrow, he said, "Yup, I get them, too. Not often…and they don't last long. But I know what it's like to be jerked back there." Casting a longing glance towards the Admiral's liquor bar, "Damn day to quit drinking," he muttered.

"I don't see them making you 'talk' about it, Sir," she said.

"Course not. No one but you knows about 'em. Not gonna to rat me out to the Admiral, now are you Starbuck?" he asked, giving her a wry look.

"Not as long as you can do your job, Colonel," she answered seriously, making it clear that she'd certainly say something if that changed.

"Way I've heard it, Starbuck, you've not been able to do yours. See, that's why you do need to 'talk'. Viper pilots gotta keep their heads in the game." He gave her a piercing stare. "You get yours on straight and you'll be back in the air flying again. We all want that," he firmly stated.

"I'm trying, Sir. I just…" she trailed off.

"Well, keep at it," he ordered. "You know how I feel about slackers. So, you just do it. That's the best way to say frak-you to the bloody Toasters. We survived. That's a hell of a victory, so don't let anyone take that from you," stabbing a finger at her, "Not even yourself, Kara." Seeing her slow nod, he decided it was time to get back to ship duties. With a wave towards the work desk, "Make sure you have those four contingency plans drawn up for me to pickup. Say late tomorrow afternoon. That'll give you the rest of today and tomorrow to work on them."

"I'll have them ready, Sir," she said, then hesitantly, "And Colonel…thanks."

"No proble—" The intercom cutoff his words with the announcement to pass the word that Colonel Tigh was needed in CIC. With hands on knees, he pushed straight and, with shoulders back, strode to the hatch, giving a parting nod to Mathias as she opened it for him.

Watching the precise way the Colonel carried himself, Kara realized that age might have slowed the man down, but the steel that kept the XO upright seemed unbreakable. If even he was having troubles shaking off his experiences, and hadn't derided her for her confession—then maybe…just maybe…she could believe that she wasn't a weak screw-up…

…or come to in time.