Chapter 121 Reunion

"Samuel Anders is alive."

Kara blinked at Leoben, not sure she'd heard him correctly, but as his words settled in, she jerked to her feet facing him in the cockpit's narrow aisle.

"Frak you! I saw him die. I saw—" she choked off as a wave of nausea hit her, the remembered smell of decaying flesh suddenly overwhelming. A hand on her elbow pulled her free of the past and Kara struck out, shoving Leoben backwards so he fell sprawled across the seat.

"Bastard," she hissed.

"No, Kara, he's alive," he said without rising, then added, "He's on board," and gave a twitch of his head towards the back.

What game was Leoben playing at now, she wondered as she spun away and took the four strides that separated the cockpit from the first compartment. Her eyes instantly froze on the seated figure dressed in all white to the right and she jerked to a halt.

Her mind reeled at the sight of her husband. Images of his blood seeping between her fingers overlapped with those of maggots crawling about his corpse…and Kara stumbled back into the edge of the bulkhead.

Maybe they had faked his death? Or drugged her…had she hallucinated it all?

Kara knew how frakked up she had been in the detention center by that point…and so many of the memories were still a confused jumble. Yet the one's surrounding D'Anna's torture and stabbing of Sam seemed so sharp. So painfully real. Even as her thoughts lurched from one possible explanation to another, her eyes clung to Sam and a surge of relieved joy spread through her as he smiled.

His fingers had fumbled the buckles loose and he'd started to rise as Kara's eyes swept his tangible form, still unable to believe that he was here—really here—alive and well. He'd just straightened to his full height when her gaze fell on his bare arms—his unmarked arms…

And as her eyes shot to his, the one explanation that she'd not even considered was confirmed by the guilty fear in his expression.

"Kara, I—" he started, a hand lifting in supplication as he took a half step towards her, but his words and motion were aborted by the stunned revulsion in her face.

"You're a Cylon," her words came out in a harsh whisper.

"Ms. Oblivious finally catching on," a voice mocked from behind her, jerking Kara's attention around. As her gaze fell on D'Anna where she sat still strapped in, Kara's vision hazed over and she was back in the cell with Sam's lifeless body hanging behind her.

Then Kara was on the Three in an instant; her fists striking down in a berserk rain of blows. All the rage, grief and hate poured out over the woman and Kara's knuckles quickly reddened with both of their blood. Strong arms abruptly wrapped around her chest and half pulled, half lifted her away. With a primal scream, she kicked back, her heel impacting flesh, and as the grip loosened, she jammed a hard elbow into the ribs of the one that held her. With a pained oomph, the arms slackened further and Kara twisted free, retreating, her breathes coming in hard gasps.

"Hey, it's me. It's Ok," Sam soothed, hands judiciously held out from his side in a non-threatening manner.

The world tipped again around Kara as he spoke; the interior of the Heavy Raider snapping into focus and the meaning of the Sam's presence here crashing in on her for a second time. Her confusion slipped back to anger at his betrayal.

Seeing the shift in her expression, "Please, Kara, just let me—" he started, but she cut him off with a murderous glare, then swept it around the cabin to include the others. As she noticed for the first time the familiar figure of Ellen Tigh moving to aid the semi-conscious Three, her reality took another blow.

It was too much. Too frakking much and she spun away, careening back up the aisle to fold into the pilot's chair with elbows braced on knees and her head in her hands. She was hyperventilating and yet it felt like she couldn't breathe as the truth slashed through her in a repeating mantra.

Cylon…Cylon…Cylon… He was a Cylon. Sam was a Cylon.

Oh Gods… Sammie was a frakkin' Toaster!

Ignoring the raised voices that echoed from behind her, Kara desolately tried to grasp that the man she'd married, the man she thought she'd loved, had never even existed. It had all been a charade, a ruse to use her like Sharon had Karl. Bile rose in her throat at the memory of Sam's asking on New Caprica how she felt about them having kids. Her stomach clenched further as she relived so many other moments shared together, beginning with those on Caprica and then in the year they'd spent trying to make a home on the dirtball of New Caprica. Kara clawed through the memories, sickened while she searched for the little things that should have clued her in to the fact that her husband was a skinjob.

After a time, she became aware of another's presence and realized that Leoben was quietly watching her from the co-pilot's seat. She didn't move from her hunched position, but he must have known when she finally noticed him, for he began to speak, voice empty of inflection and steady as he related what he'd learned of the missing five models and Sam's part in the Cylons' history.

She bitterly tried to shut out his words, to not listen as the Two insisted that Samuel Anders hadn't known what he was and that he was a good man—the same man, he insisted—that she had pledged her life to before her gods. It struck Kara as ironically galling that Leoben was now defending Sam when the Cylon had generally refused to even acknowledge her husband's existence before. His hypocrisy stirred her to lift her head and give him a nasty smile.

"You like him that much, go frak him yourself," she spat out. Then feeling the consuming need to provoke the Two, she leered and crudely said, "Sammie's always liked it a little rough. Bet he'd get off on you holding him down…taking him from behind." A measure of gratification warmed her as Leoben's eyes narrowed at her vulgarity. At the evidence of the crack in his composure she savagely added, "Why don't you show him how I like it," and as he flinched, was rewarded by the shame she glimpsed before he looked away.

Turning in the seat, she cast her own gaze out towards the starfield and sought to let the familiar view of open space calm the seething tangle of her emotions. She recognized the piercing bite of humiliation, anger, betrayal…but there was also a caress of elation that felt like treason slithering across her soul. Her husband was a Cylon. It was a repellant fact and Kara spurned the notion that it was somehow permissible to be happy that he was alive.

Blinking eyes that stung, she tried again to focus only on the vastness framed by the Raider's cockpit slits. Slowly the turmoil eased, replaced by a growing sense that in her distraction, she'd missed something of importance in Leoben's explanation. As the feeling grew, Kara side-eyed him and saw that he was staring down at the items in his hands, his brow in profile creased with an unaccustomed frown and she read the tautness in the muscles of his neck and shoulders. When he lifted his eyes to meet hers, she was surprised to see pain in their depths, it surprised her more that it didn't bring her any satisfaction.

Instead, Kara refocused her thoughts, sifting through his earlier recitation for the elusive bit that had sounded a warning. With an indrawn breath, she abruptly knew. Besides Sam and Ellen, he had said that there were three others, and that they were with the Fleet. Three Cylon infiltrators that no one suspected. As Kara wondered if they were anyone one she'd met, she grimaced at the surprising reveal of Ellen Tigh.

The Colonel's gonna frakkin' freak!

Recalling how shattered Tigh had been after his return from New Caprica without his wife, Kara really, really, didn't want to be the one to try to explain to him that Ellen was a skinjob. Then again, she could understand how that discovery felt. And as Kara thought that, she realized that Karl—and the Chief, too—had experienced the same betrayal. She bit her lip, not daring to think about Athena and Boomer just now, too many emotions already threatening to dismember her sanity. Giving a shake of her head, she turned her attention back to the unknown traitors.

"Who're the others," she grimly asked, facing Leoben now. At his blank look, "The other three. You said they're still in the Fleet," she clarified with a scowl.

"Ah, yes, the others. Quite a revelation, their identities," he said carefully. "Then again, it makes sense that they would've risen as they had." As he paused and pinched the bridge of his nose as if in pain, a deepening sense of dread filled Kara at the implications of his words. Lowering his hand, he continued, "Imagine…Saul Tigh, Galen Tyrol and Tory Foster," he gave a slight smile, "those three, so close to power…and yet so oblivious to their past."

Kara heard the names, but it took a second longer for understanding to register. When it did, her eyes widened and she shook her head in denial,.

There was no way! No frakking way that the Colonel was a Cylon.

Everyone knew that he'd flow Vipers against the Cylons in the first war. And how many years now had he served with the Old Man since? If Leoben expected her to buy that the irascible XO was a skinjob, then he was insane!

"You're lying," she hissed, vehemently rejecting his words.

"It's true, Kara." At Sam's voice over her shoulder, she jerked around, glaring at the man she'd once called her husband.

Ignoring the imploring look in his eyes, "Bullshit," she ground out.

"Saul, Galen, Tory…I remember them all," he said, then swiped a hand over his eyes. "Kara, I know this is frakked up. It is. When I woke on the basestar, I couldn—"

Cutting him off, she sneered, "Can it, Sammie," scornfully emphasizing his pet name. "Don't care and I don't want to hear it." Hugging her anger to herself, Kara purposefully ignored the man at her shoulder and glared across at Leoben where he neutrally watched the brief exchange. "Figure the next set of coordinates," she ordered. "We're going on."

Without waiting for a response from either man, she redid her straps and reached for the Raider's flight controls, noticing for the first time her scraped and bloody knuckles. A quick flex confirmed that they were stiff but would do the job, and she gripped the controls. Aware that Sam still hadn't moved from his position in the aisle, Kara gave a twitch of the ship's yoke and smugly heard the sound of him smacking into the bulkhead.

"Damn it, Kara!" he yelped.

"Better get everyone buckled in, Sammie," her tone dripping solicitude."Could be a rough ride and wouldn't want anyone hurt." She pitched the craft briskly again for emphasis and heard his frustrated curse as he retreated aft. A glance sideways caught Leoben with the hint of a sly smile in corners of his eyes and mouth. Her look turned hard and she coldly asked, "Ready?"

He nodded without speaking, his expression smoothing over into a blank mask.

She triggered the Heavy's FTL, and after the moment of distortion, surveyed the new view and the Raider's version of Dradis. Once assured that they were clear, her gaze dropped to scan the panel, automatically assessing the ship's systems post-jump while she wondered how many more there were to reach the algae planet? Even one was too many as far as she was concerned. Despite her apparent disregard of Sam's confirmation, and as cracked as their accusations were, Kara was forced to accept that he and Leoben had spoken the truth about the three remaining skinjobs.

And that meant that the sooner she could warn the Admiral the better.

Besides that, she was desperate to fix the Raptor and put some distance between herself and the Raider's other occupants. Kara didn't have to glance over to know that Leoben was busy working with the NAV computer for the next jump. That was fine by her, not wanting to have to look at the Two. Since boarding, she'd been fighting against the claustrophobic feeling being stuck this close to him had engendered…and that was before she'd even learned of the identity of their passengers. As it was, she felt like the oxygen level was too low for her to draw a normal breath. So much so that she had checked the gauges again to be assured the systems were functioning at their optimum ratings…not that that eased the tightness in her chest.

"Bout done?" she curtly demanded. It wasn't necessary for her to see him to know that Leoben was scrutinizing her, his expression probably one of conciliatory concern. When he spoke, his words seemed to confirm her guess.

"We should take a break. Tend to your hands and eye," he quietly said.

"I'm fine!" Then gritting her teeth, "Are the coordinates in or not?"

She heard him sigh before answering, "Yes, but it'll take another few minutes for the drive to spool up again. And we should allow an hour every few times for the cyclocellerators to cool. Your shuttles handle the heat dispensation better than ours. Probably a trade off for our significantly longer range," there was a shrug in his tone as if the intricacies of the ships' mechanics was of little import to him.

Kara grimaced at her own ignorance of the Cylon craft's workings. She vaguely remembered Athena mentioning something similar before, but that didn't make taking his word that the stops were necessary any less repugnant.

She ignored the murmur of voices from the passenger section and sat in silence, trying to remember all she could of the Raptor's condition when she'd put it down some two weeks ago. A fevered haze still veiled much of that time, but she had the bleak impression that the damage had been extensive. Kara resolutely pushed aside the possibility that the shuttle might not be salvageable.

It had to be.

Distracted, she didn't catch Leoben's words and looked over questioningly.

"We're ready," he repeated.

Without answering, she initiated the jump, and they repeated the process twice more before Leoben insisted on calling a halt to avoid overheating the drive. Reluctantly she agreed and set the systems to standby. Then, as the adrenalin and anger that had sustained her to this point wore off, she leaned back to rest her aching head against the seat's support. All the psychological blows she'd taken in the last few hours had taken an emotional toll more exhausting than even combat flights and she shut her eyes as a deep weariness settled in.

When Leoben finally spoke again, Kara jumped, startled that she'd almost dozed off, especially when she realized that he was squatting at her side now.

"We can't risk infection, Kara." He gave her raw knuckles a meaningful look and offered her a damp cloth.

She debated ignoring him, but reluctantly knowing that he had a point, grudging took the rag and scrubbed at the crusted blood, grimacing at the pain. Motion drew her attention as Leoben held up a small spray can.

At her frown, "It's an antibiotic dressing," he explained, gesturing for her to hold her hands out. Deciding it wasn't worth the effort to protest, Kara extended her hands, palms down and only winced slightly as he sprayed her abused knuckles. He set the can aside and retrieved the cloth from the seat's armrest and gave her an inquiring look.

"What?" she irritably demanded.

"Let me get that for you," he offered, indicating the cut above her eye.

Grabbing the rag from him again, "Frak off," she muttered, but lacking the usual vehemence. Too many clashing emotions had cast her adrift within the hurricane of revelations, and holding the cool cloth to her forehead, Kara queasily sought to find her footing again.

After a minute, she realized that she was quietly humming and frowned as she tried to place the melody. Vague memories of her mother surfaced and the tune abruptly struck a discordant note. Jerking her head upright, Kara forcefully reminded herself that none of this mattered. She had a mission—or actually two now: return with Earth's coordinates and take the Cylons' alliance proposal to the Admiral and President. It wasn't relevant that she'd discovered that she'd been frakked over by another skinjob. No, only finding a safe home for her people was important now.

Looking over to where Leoben had withdrawn to his own station again, "Coordinates in?" she flatly asked. At his silent nod, she keyed the FTL.

Five jumps and some three hours later and the familiar planet was finally visible through the Heavy's forward slits. Anticipating her next demand, Leoben gave her the location of her downed Raptor and she rapidly descended, setting the ship down with none of her usual finesse in her hast.

Barely taking time to shut down the engines and slap the ramp control, Kara was out of her seat and past the passengers before they'd even unbuckled their restraints. And the blast of heat and rough ground beneath her bare feet hardly registered as her rapid strides carried her in the direction of the Colonial shuttle. She grimly noted that the hatch was open and, on ducking inside, saw that all the surfaces were coated in a thin layer of grit.

Kara pulled the blood-splattered tanktop over her head and used it to brush at the ship's panels, then slid into the pilot's seat and began to punch at the Raptor's controls, growing more frantic as each remained unresponsive. Rushing into the back, she knelt before the ECO's station and popped the cover, exposing the shuttle's power system. Several minutes and a multitude of curses later she was rewarded by the hum of circuits reluctantly coming online. The interior safety lights flickered on adding to the ambient light streaming in from the cockpit's windshield. Back in her seat, Kara's fingers traveled over the various switches and toggles, trying by force of will to get them to revert to the green of operational status.

Slapping a palm against the uncooperative console, "Godsdamnit!" Kara savagely cursed. She resisted the urge to pound the metallic surface and instead splayed her battered hands over the instrument panel and took a breath, reminding herself that she still had a way to get the coordinates back to Galactica. It might mean long days confined with a group of skinjobs that she'd rather just airlock, but she repeated to herself that it'd be worth it—worth anything—if it led to their finding Earth.

The thought of returning to the Heavy Raider and it's other occupants drove Kara from her seat again. The shuttle's small arms drawer pulled easily open to reveal several service pistols. After confirming that it was fully loaded, she tucked one of the guns into the front of her waistband and pulled back on the dirty tanktop to conceal it. The feel of it's cool mass against her skin was reassuring and Kara resolutely settled into the ECO's chair and sought to call up the NAV program.

Her brief assurance was shredded as she stared at the readout.

No. No…it was here. It was here. It had to be here!

Flinging herself forward into the pilot's station again, Kara tried there to access the stored coordinates. Over and over she stabbed at the keys, refusing to accept the stark reality that the ship's entire navigational record had been wiped clean. Even as she frantically tried to run a diagnostic of it's system, a distant voice taunted in a steadily increasing volume that it was gone—that she'd frakked up again and that this time it would cost her everything.

Kara didn't know when she had given up trying to recover the coordinates, ones that simply didn't exist any longer, and had hunched forward over her knees, but eventually the ungiving bulge at her waist drew her desolate notice. With fingers numbed by despair, she pulled the pistol free and blinked down at it.

— Here was the answer she needed —

— This was the way to stop all the betrayals —

— A final solution to end the confusion and pain —

She caressed the gun's barrel, her sense of touch returned as she traced it's lines. It felt cool when laid against her throbbing temple and Kara wondered why she'd resisted it's lure before?

Then memories of sickbay swirled before her eyes and Kara remembered strong arms holding her as she had screamed out the soul-destroying horror that had once threatened to consume her. Unconsciously she shifted the barrel away from her head as Lee's words echoed in her mind, beseeching her not to give up, not to leave him again. Her chin quivered.

His confident voice was in her head now, emphatic words driving back the other's as he reminded her that she wasn't just Kara, that what made her Starbuck was still a part of her and she was too strong to just give up like this. As close as if he were before her, he insisted that she hadn't lost Earth, it was still there waiting, and what she'd found once, she could find again.

With a shudder, Kara let the pistol sag to her lap. But a sound from behind had her spinning to her feet with the gun held before her.

"Hey! It's me." Sam's gaze shifted warily from the muzzle of the pistol to hers.

Aligning the sites with his head, "I should put a bullet between your eyes," Kara grimly said.

"I didn't know," he said fervently. "Kara, I swear I didn't plan any of this," he pleaded for her to understand, to believe him.

Her aim wavered as multiple images of Sam again superimposed over each other. Her brow began to heavily bead with sweat as she fought down the nausea, grief and disorientation. Latching onto the chain anger provided, she used it to anchor herself to this reality and moved forward until the barrel was pressed against his head this time. He didn't flinch or move, just held his ground and her hard gaze with eyes filled with sorrow.

It should be easy. Just squeeze her finger and the Gordian knot presented by his resurrection would be undone. Perhaps he'd even be thankful she thought, remembering their long ago pact on Caprica.

Biting her lip, Kara searched the familiar face for the enemy within. But all she could see was Sammie, her big idiot of a husband who ignored all her faults and had never faltered in his belief in her. Once more she experienced the flow of his trust and it broke the links she'd grasped to hold her steady in her resolve.

As her arm dropped to her side, he moved as if to embrace her, but Kara held up her other hand in warning and shook her head. It was too soon. She might not be able to kill him…yet she wasn't ready to suffer his touch either. Wasn't the reason she'd chosen Sam in the first place because he was safe and life with him should be easy? Now that had changed and she didn't know if it was in her to ever forget.

Sam tried reaching for her again but she retreated a step this time. At her withdrawal, disappointment darkened his expression, reawakening her guilt that she'd never been able to wholeheartedly return his devotion. Facing him with barely three feet between but a virtual chasm separating them, Kara acknowledged to herself then that she had always loved Sam—still did, in fact—but she didn't want him. Maybe that would change in time. All she was certain of now was that she couldn't stomach the thought of this new body of his against hers.

Breaking his entreating gaze, she gave the interior of the Raptor a bleak look and said, "There's nothing here for me," then regretted her choice of words as Sam flinched. Her ready guilt spurred her to reluctantly add, "Look, I…I didn't mean it like that."

She was surprised to find that his, "I get it, Kara," said in a tight voice that ended in a bitter laugh still stung her.

"Sam, just—"

He interrupted. "No. I do. I get it. I've had months to deal with this." He swiped a hand over his face. "Sorry. This just isn't how I saw this going down," he muttered.

Kara shook her head, unable to think of any words that could bridge the gap—not sure she should even try. She tucked the service pistol back into the front of her sweatpants and caught Sam's questioning look as she pulled the hem of the tanktop over it's revealing outline. Opening her mouth to ask if he was going to rat her out to the others, she hesitated and then pressed her lips together instead, swallowing the words. Let him prove where he really stood, she grimly decided. Moving past him, taking care not to make contact, she paused at the Raptor's hatch as he called her name.

"So that's it? We aren't going to talk about this?" Somehow he sounded both beseeching and bitter as he asked, "You're just going to walk away?"

She was held poised half in and out, at a loss how to reconcile…well, frakking everything! What the hell did he think she had to say?

Over her shoulder she dryly replied, "Haven't you figured it out yet, Sammie. It's what I do," and she made her way down the wing and crossed the distance between the two ships without looking back.

Kara didn't have the coordinates to Earth, but she did remember a few of the numbers…and she'd found the way there once and was determined to discover it again.

As she climbed the Heavy's ramp, she began to hum.