Chapter 92 Maybe

Later that day, as Athena landed the Raptor as light as a kiss on Colonial One's deck, Kara saw the darker woman's smirk through her faceshield. After what had transpired last time, both women had silently agreed to don their full flight gear and helmets before embarking on the delayed trip over to the President's ship. With a textbook landing this time, Kara ran through a litany of possible quips to toss out, but decided to not raz Sharon after all, deciding that it was simply nice to see her smiling again with the reunion of her family.

Since the Cylon woman's return to Galactica with Hera, and a model Six, in tow, they hadn't really had a chance to talk. She'd heard from the Old Man that he'd foregone any disciplinary action, but had firmly expressed to Athena and Helo his displeasure at their unilateral decision.

Once the pilot finished with her power-down checklist, both women removed their helmets and she watched Sharon straighten her ponytail. Clearing her throat, Kara caught her attention.

"Surprised you offered to shuttle my ass over, after last time," she said, searching for an appropriate opening to question Athena further.

"Yeah, well I figured I owed you one, for looking after Karl for me," said Sharon, then her voice turned teasing, "Besides, I'm trying to make a few points with the CAG. And I know he's selective over who watches your ass, Starbuck."

Kara tried to tamp down on the heat she felt rising to her cheeks, and she gave Athena a dirty look meant to quell any more comments about her and Lee. If there was even a her and Lee. She still didn't know what to feel about him, not at least in that way.

Forcing her wayward thoughts back to their original track, "I wanted to ask," she had to clear her throat again before continuing, "the Six. Why'd you bring her back? Why'd she come? It's not like anyone's gonna just take your word and trust her," Kara said, more sharply than she'd intended. She was trying not to resent Sharon for bringing the Cylon onboard, but it was hard as her chest twisted at just the thought of the tall blonde sitting below decks in the specially designed holding cell. Kara took her lower lip between her teeth to calm herself and prevent less charitable words from spilling forth.

She didn't miss Sharon's concerned look, and she turned her gaze forward, watching the Colonial One's deck crew jockey's their shuttle into the small hanger bay.

"Kara, I know it has to be difficult, having Caprica on Galactica, but she's not the one. Not the Six that…that did things to you," Sharon tried to explain, stumbling over exactly what had been done to Kara. "Each copy is different, and Caprica, while she shares some of the memories of the other Sixes, she's had her own experiences, and those have shaped her. She doesn't want Cylons and Humans to fight anymore, that's why she helped me escape with Hera. And if she had stayed, the others would have boxed her."

"So, she was just trying to save her skin, huh?"

"I guess. But she chose, just like I did. She took a stand against her programming, and the other models. And she chose to come to Galactica, to face whatever the Admiral and President might decided to do with her…to her." At her pause, Kara looked over and saw Sharon wet her lips before continuing in a strained voice, "We know about Gina. All the Sixes have heard what happened to her on the Pegasus. She was too far out to download, but-but what I knew, they learned when I downloaded. For Caprica to have the courage to come with me…"

Kara understood what was left unsaid, and she wondered what she would've done in the same circumstances. Probably said 'frak the bastards' and left Sharon to fend for herself. It was strange to see how things might appear from a Cylon point of view, and unsettling, too.

Switching topics, "So, you staying?" she asked.

"No. Since the Doc cleared me, the Admiral let me make this run with you. But he hasn't reinstated me to full status, yet." Athena reached forward and to toggle the hatch switch then added, "Just call when you're ready to be picked up."

With a nod, Kara stood and exited the Raptor, helmet still held under one arm. She didn't look back as she strode away.

[ I I I I I ]

As the President's assistant, Troy, waved her through, Kara entered the lounge that Roslin used for her informal meetings. Seeing Roslin's redhead still bent over a stack of document, Kara took a moment to survey the room, not having been in the cabin since Laura resumed the Presidency after New Caprica. She noted that the picture of Baltar was missing from the wall. She'd seen it once, prior to the Occupation, when Tyrol had insisted she accompany him under the mistaken belief that she'd have some sway with Baltar when he confronted the President about his plans for the Workers' Union. A satisfied smile teased her lips at its absence. But, her smile quickly died when she recognized the white board with a number marked on it that hung in the picture's place. That number, representing the total known count of humanity still alive, was less by some five thousand souls since she'd last seen it.

Most of those were lost on the surface of New Caprica.

Kara's eyes stung and she blinked until her sight cleared again. Sam was just one of so many, yet his death gave the numbers context. There were so few people left that each loss was a calamity…a potentially mortal blow to the human race's long term chance of survival.

"That'll be all for now, Tory." The President's voice cut through Kara's thoughts before they could spiral further, and she swung her attention back to the figure behind the ornate desk, the one décor piece holdover she recognized from Baltar's occupancy.

At Roslin's wave to sit, Kara sank into one of the well-padded chairs, barely suppressing the urge to purr at the cushy support. She was use to the Galactica's…well-used…furniture and trappings. After all, the battlestar was about to be decommissioned, so none of the bean counters had seen the need to repair, let alone replace, the old furnishings with new in the months prior to the war. So, though Kara had long grown accustomed to the hard racks and sagging seats of the old ship, it just meant that she was more aware of the rare pleasure of a truly comfortable chair. She wondered what were the chances of finagling one of them for the CAG's office. With as many hours Lee spent hunched over his desk, he could certainly use a better seat. Besides, then she'd be able to enjoy it on occasion, too.

Still lightly stroking the armrests, she looked up and caught Laura's bemused expression, and hastily said, "Uh, nice chair," then grinned and gave a sheepish shrug. "Don't suppose you have a spare one you'd like to be rid of?"

"I can look into it," Laura replied, hand rising to hide her mouth.

"Apollo's been complaining about his back lately. It might help, is all."

"Well, we certainly can't have Major Apollo sidelined because of a preventable medical condition, so I'm sure I can arrange something." With that, Laura settled further back in her own seat and templed her fingers, and Kara recognized the shift in the older woman's focus and felt her own body tense in response. "How are you doing? I understand you've been released from sickbay?"

"Cottle kicked me out last night, so I'm back with the Admiral." Kara worried her lip for a moment before asking, "Do…do you think I should try to convince the Old Man to let me move back into the bunkroom?"

"Why, has the Admiral said anything to make you think he wants you to leave?" inquired Laura with a concerned look. At Kara's uneasy shrug, Laura asked more forcefully, "Kara, what is it?"

"He's the Admiral," she blurted. Then in a little more subdued tone, "I don't get why he's doing this, spending so much time with me…on me." As Laura rested her forehead on her hand and took a deep breath, Kara knew the older woman was trying to gather her strength and patience, she'd seen it often enough with her teachers and superiors in the past to recognize the gesture. Clenching her hands, Kara looked away, not understanding what she'd said to upset Laura, but knowing that she'd done it again, opened her big mouth and said too much.

"I know it's hard for you to accept, Kara, but Bill's just trying to prove to you that he cares, that you're important to him."

"Why?" Kara couldn't help but ask, eyes still averted as she stared unseeing out the window at the star-pricked blackness.

"He's trying desperately to convince you that he didn't mean what he said that day." Laura didn't specify which day, and Kara didn't need to ask. "You wouldn't accept his apology, believe his words, so he's hoping to show you by his actions. William Adama loves you as a father as surely as if you had been born by Lee's mother."

"But why?" again Kara asked.

Before New Caprica, she had been willing to accept the bond between her and the Old Man, figuring it was only because of Zak, and that had been enough for her before. Now though, it didn't make sense. You just don't take someone in, put up with her craziness, and keep pushing to be included in her life, just because she might have become your daughter-in-law if things had gone differently. Sure she was an asset to the fleet, yet even there she wasn't irreplaceable anymore. They had the pilots from the Pegasus…and Kat. It wouldn't take much of a stretch to see the petite woman filling the roles Kara had once held, both professionally and personally for the Admiral. So why was he bothering with her?

"Oh, Kara." Laura shook her head. "What'll it take to make you see that you're worthy of love, and not just the senior Adama's. I've seen the way Lee Adama looks at you. And then there was Samuel. And Zak before him."

Though her gaze was still averted, Kara was listening, trying to grasp onto a premise that sifted through her hands. On one hand, her mother's voice still echoed in the back of her mind, reminding her how she was never good enough...and hadn't the gods sided with her mom, taking away those Kara had had the audacity to love, just to prove the point? Yet, balanced against that were the words of those like Laura, the Old Man, and Lee. Even Sam and Zak. Each, through deeds and words, stated a case for her value.

Torn between the two competing assertions, the best she could think was…

Maybe.

And maybe carried on its syllables the promise of hope. Where maybe was planted, the sprouts of belief could grow. Within the realm of maybe, worthiness was attainable. And that was more than Kara had ever thought possible.

She turned her head and met Laura's questioning gaze with a lift of her chin, and said, "Maybe."