BSG Fic : Four Times Lee Adama Almost Died (3/4)
Title : Four Times Lee Adama Almost (But Not Quite) Died
Author : Helen C.
Summary : See title. A series of four unrelated, unashamedly H/C, AU ficlets.
Fandom : BSG
Rating : PG-13
Spoilers : Everything aired so far is fair game.
Disclaimer : The characters and the universe were created and are owned by Ronald D. Moore and Universal Television Studios to name but a few. No money is being made. No copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
AN. Many thanks to Mick1997 for beta'ing this! As often happens, I tinkered-all remaining mistakes are mine.
Warning: character death (no, not Lee).
Four Times Lee Adama Almost (But Not Quite) Died
Helen C.
Time #3
The bright lights overhead were spinning in and out of focus, making his head hurt, and that was the first thing that registered on Lee's consciousness-and the first sign he got that something wasn't right with him.
Light wasn't supposed to hurt that much.
His vision wasn't supposed to be so blurry.
The ceiling wasn't supposed to move on its own.
The sound wasn't supposed to be drowned out by the buzzing in his ears.
He remained totally motionless for a few heartbeats, or a few hours, waiting for… something-a sign, a memory, a clue as to what he was doing here, and why he felt like shit.
Eventually, he forced himself to face it; lying here like an idiot wasn't helping.
After another long beat, a thought started to emerge from the fog. Analyze the situation. Analyze your resources, find out how you are.
It took an effort, but after a few tries, Lee managed to focus long enough on the sensations to take stock of how he felt.
He didn't like what he found.
His mouth was dry as hell and he grimaced when he swallowed, feeling like sandpaper was lining his throat.
He was cold. Very cold, now that he actually paid attention to it.
His head was pounding and his thoughts were strangely… disconnected. He had the disturbing feeling that he was usually sharper, quicker than this, but he couldn't remember how he was supposed to think.
Even more worrying was the fact that he could feel a warm and sticky pool of… something under his hands. With lazy, uncoordinated movements, he allowed his left hand to trail on the ground around him (his right hand didn't feel quite right, and he didn't think trying to use it would be a good idea), then raised his fingers until they entered his line of sight and studied the red coating them.
Blood.
He should probably feel more worried about that than he was, but he just couldn't summon the energy to be scared.
Then, the ceiling started to… distort was as close as he could come to describe it. The edges blurred, the lights started to spin dizzily and he closed his eyes, fighting back a wave of nausea.
He wouldn't have minded falling asleep, right about now, and waking up in a world where ceilings didn't do that, in a world where he wasn't lying in blood.
Something was nagging at him, though-the vague feeling that sleeping would be a bad idea, possibly a fatal one. He racked his brain for an explanation, and it dawned on him.
Shock.
He was losing blood, he felt cold and sleepy-he was going into shock. If he fell asleep, he was going to die.
His eyes snapped open of their own accord and he moaned when the light sent a sharp pain knifing through his brain.
He had to move now, while he still could-while he still had the strength to do it, while he was still lucid enough to realize how important it was that he did something.
Bracing himself, Lee slowly turned his head to the side. He had to close his eyes to ward off the sudden onslaught of pain at the motion. Frak.
Okay, so, whatever he did next was going to be hard and painful as hell.
Great.
When he opened his eyes again-how long had he spent bleeding, lying here, waiting? Too long?-the first thing he noticed was the red on the ground.
Then, he saw Kara's face, her open eyes staring blankly in his direction.
His breath caught in his throat as cold memories rushed back in.
He made an effort to consciously breathe-in and out, carefully, mindful of the pain that shot through his side.
"Kara," he whispered, uselessly.
She didn't move, didn't reply. Of course.
He closed his eyes against the sight of her. "Hey!" he called as loudly as he could. He breathed through the pain, waited until the worst of it had passed and tried again. "Anyone around?"
Nothing but silence. He sighed. Well, it had been worth a try.
He forced his eyes open, struggled to raise his head and looked down at himself. His shirt was covered with blood from his side to mid-thigh on the left, his right side felt very sore, his right hand was starting to throb badly, and he didn't like the way the room swam when he moved his head.
There seemed to be red everywhere on the floor. How much of it was his, and how much was Kara's?
Without dwelling on the question-he didn't want to know-he looked around, trying to find something that could help him. The only obvious solution he could spot was the phone near the hatch, on the far wall of the room.
Sighing, he lowered his head back to the ground.
*
"How can you even say that?" Kara's laughter was infectious and even if it was at his expense, Lee found himself laughing along with her and Zak.
"Easy," he teased once they regained their composure. "I open my mouth, articulate words, and here I am, saying, again, that what you call music is nothing but noise, and that classic is the way to go."
She shook her head, still chuckling. "Shame on you! For that reason only, you get to pay the next round."
It was Lee's turn to pay anyway, so he just shrugged and got to his feet, waiting until the room had stopped spinning to make his way to the bar, being very careful to walk in a straight line-and, judging from the bartender's amused expression, failing miserably.
He did manage not to spill too much ambrosia on his way back to their table, where Zak and Kara were looking at him with fascination.
"How does he do that?" Zak asked to no one in particular. "I don't think I could even stand at this point."
"Easy," Kara said, parroting Lee's words. "He puts one foot in front of the other, and there he is, walking. Like an old lady."
Lee resisted the urge to stick out his tongue at her. He was determined to take the high road-as if such a thing mattered when dealing with Kara.
"So," he said, taking a swig of alcohol and smiling in satisfaction-this bar really was the best of Caprica-"Where were we?"
"We were getting drunk and discussing music, politics, philosophy and life," Kara said, raising her glass in his direction. Her hair shone in the light, her smile was bright as she looked at him and Zak, and Lee thought, not for the first time, that that smile made it worth putting up with her bad days, her anger, her bitterness and everything she kept throwing at him.
"Cool, let's do that again."
Zak let his head drop on the table. "I'm dead," he moaned.
Lee and Kara looked at each other and started to laugh. "Poor thing," Kara said, mock-compassionately.
"Young people these days," Lee said, making sure his brother heard him. "No stamina."
Zak gave him the finger without raising his head, Kara laughed and Lee allowed himself to relax in his chair. Life was good.
*
Kara was dead.
Her body was slack, her face expressionless, her eyes still open on nothing.
Kara was a Cylon.
Kara was probably downloading into another body right now.
Would she know? Would she remember what had happened? Would she be one of the reluctant Cylons, like Sharon, or would she embrace her new life?
His best friend had been a Cylon all along.
They had laughed, kissed, driven one another insane and loved each other.
He had allowed her to touch him in every possible way.
He had allowed her into his life, into his family.
He wanted to die so he wouldn't have to live with that anymore, so he wouldn't have to fight to get over her.
The only reason why he started to drag himself across the floor, painful inch by painful inch, instead of surrendering to the darkness, was because he didn't think his father would survive losing them both.
*
"That was great!" Kara yelled, clapping Lee's shoulder so hard he stumbled.
"Thanks," he said, wondering if he was going to get another bruise out of this. Kara sure packed a punch.
"No, really, that was one neat piece of flying, Apollo!"
It wasn't every day that the almighty Starbuck praised someone's flying besides her own and Lee allowed the words to sink in, committing them to memory. He'd need them later, when she turned insufferable again.
"So, wanna go celebrate tonight?" Her eyes were as bright as her smile when she looked up at him.
He chuckled. "You just never miss an occasion, do you?"
"Nope," she replied, smirking, already sure that he would go to the bar with her-when had he ever been able to turn her down?
For once, she seemed carefree-as she usually did when she was flying or when she had just touched ground. Soon, he knew, her demons would rear their heads again, calling for her attention, and she'd become the annoying bitch she could sometimes be.
He didn't mind. He liked seeing her happy, liked seeing her laughing with him, with Zak, but even when she was at her pissy worst, he still enjoyed her company.
She was the best friend he had ever had, she challenged him like no one else, and there were days when he prayed to gods he didn't believe in that he'd never lose that friendship.
*
Lee had no idea what had activated her. He was sure she had been dormant up until the moment they had entered this storage room, though.
He had seen something click in her eyes. Lee had heard people say that seeing a Cylon being activated was probably like seeing a switch being turned on, but he didn't agree. It was a lot more like a door closing on the human inside, and another door opening.
He had seen that small flicker, almost imperceptible. The only reason he had even noticed was that he knew her so well. For a fraction of second, she hadn't looked like Kara anymore.
It had been his only warning before she had lunged at him with a knife.
And just like that, his best friend had been gone, replaced by a machine hell bent on killing him.
Lee had been pissed as hell at the Cylons before, had even hated Boomer-who had betrayed them all, who had shot his father point blank, without reason-but never before had he felt this all-consuming hatred, this thirst for vengeance.
He used the anger to keep him going a few more inches, then stopped, gasping. He rested his head on the floor. He couldn't go any farther. It felt like he had spent years at it already, and he hadn't even reached the halfway point. He was shivering, covered in cold sweat, and he was leaving a trail of blood behind him and frak but it hurt.
Out of nowhere, a picture jumped in his mind-his father's face at Zak's funeral. Lee had tried very hard to forget about that day; only the fight that had followed the ceremony still remained clear in his memory. But apparently, his brain had decided to store the information away for later.
How had he managed to forget the pain etched on his father's features?
A part of him-the part that would forever remain a resentful, insecure, angry teenager-wondered if his father would feel as bad about his death as he had felt about Zak's. Then, shame set in. No matter what their differences might be, he didn't doubt that his father loved him, not anymore.
He swallowed, took another look at the faraway phone, gritted his teeth on the groan that wanted to escape. Then, he started crawling again.
*
"Zak says he's going to enroll into flight school," Kara said as she and Lee were soaking in the sun on the beach. It was their last day of freedom before their next assignment in space, and they had decided to make the most of it.
"Yes," Lee replied. It was no secret that he'd have preferred his brother did something safer, something that wasn't so likely to get him killed. Of course, Lee himself didn't think about the danger when he flew-only about the fact that he was good at it, only about the fact that it was exhilarating and thrilling, almost addictive. It was only now that his brother had decided to join the army that Lee also saw how damn dangerous it was.
"Don't sound so enthusiastic."
Lee didn't reply, his eyes drawn to the figure of his brother, who was running along the shore, speeding up and slowing down at random intervals, obviously enjoying himself.
"Look, I know you're worried about him, but I'm sure he'll be a good pilot."
She didn't remind Lee that it was in his blood. He had heard that argument too many times already.
His mother was pissed at them both-seeing them follow in their father's footsteps made her feel like she had lost some kind of long-standing contest with her ex-husband. Lee had tried, time and again, to explain that it wasn't about the army, that he just wanted, needed, to fly, but all she saw was the uniform he put on. Ah, well, it wasn't the first time she was pissed at him. He would survive, as would Zak.
"He's worried about you, the same way you're worried about him." Kara wasn't letting go. Of course, she wasn't. She was too bull-headed for that.
"I know."
"He looks up to you a great deal."
That was precisely what bothered Lee. He didn't want his brother to feel like he had anything to prove, either to their father or to him. He couldn't shake the feeling that Zak was choosing flight school for all the wrong reasons, and he had seen what happened to the pilots who didn't put their whole heart into what they were doing.
He didn't want his brother to die because he had made the wrong choice.
Kara added, seemingly unaware of his uneasiness, "Besides, the more you try to dissuade him, the more he'll want to do it."
Lee nodded. Stubbornness was another thing that ran in all Adamas' blood.
Kara put her hand on his arm and he turned to look at her. "Don't worry so much. It'll be fine."
The words sounded like a promise. Lee trusted Kara enough to believe it.
*
Lee was still flat on the floor, panting, but at least, he had reached the wall.
He had tried his best not to think about the second part of the plan as he was making his way to here, but now, he couldn't avoid it anymore. He was going to need to get to his knees to reach the phone.
He swallowed, took a shallow breath. The pain wasn't so bad anymore, but Lee didn't think that was a good sign. The shivering was even worse now than it had been when he had first woken up, the trembling so bad that he had to clench his teeth to stop them from chattering.
He needed to move. He wasn't going to stay conscious much longer, and if he passed out, he was going to die before anyone found him.
Gathering his resolve, he slowly pushed himself into a sitting position. The whole room started to spin around him and he waited for it to pass, hoping he wasn't going to lose consciousness now-not after all that, not when the goal was so near he could almost touch it.
Once he didn't feel so much on the verge of passing out anymore, he dragged himself to his knees, clinging to the wall for support, and reached up to take a hold of the phone.
"Medical team needed to storage room fifteen," he said, his breath coming in short gasps. He heard a click on the line, repeated, "Medical team to storage room fifteen," then stopped fighting and allowed himself to fall back to the ground.
*
Lee's reflexes probably saved his life. When Kara came at him with the knife, aiming at his throat, he took a step back and raised his hand in front of himself.
The knife went straight through the hand.
For a split second, he stared at it dumbly, surprised that it didn't hurt more-the way the knife was protruding on both sides of the hand, he should have felt something. Then, Kara jerked the knife back out, and a scream tore out of Lee's throat.
"What-?"
She looked at him, her eyes frighteningly blank. Then, she raised the knife again and struck at his face. He caught her wrist and twisted, hard, his hand pulsing with every movement. The knife fell to the ground with a metallic clang.
They stared at each other for a beat, then she kicked at him, surprising him enough that he released her.
"What are you doing?" he asked, even though he knew. He had seen it, however briefly.
Another dormant Cylon had just been awoken.
Lee couldn't believe it. Boomer had made sense, in a way-she was always so controlled, so perfect. But Kara had always struck him as deeply human, probably because of her flaws and her frakked up attitude.
She punched him, her fist landing square on his jaw, and he took a few steps back, dazed. He saw her move to the knife and kicked it away from them both.
"Kara," he tried.
She punched him again, so fast he barely saw it coming.
He swallowed painfully.
What was he supposed to say?
Fight it?
This is me, and you. Don't do that?
Nothing he could say would change anything.
Most of the fight was a blur-Kara had always hit hard. Now, at least, Lee knew why, and it made him smile a little through the pain and the adrenaline and the shock. Seemed like Kara's freakish aim and strength had come from somewhere special after all.
He remembered her hitting him, he remembered hitting back, as hard as he could.
He remembered them both falling to the ground.
He didn't remember her stabbing him-only a flash of pain, quickly followed by numbness.
He remembered the frantic grappling for the weapon.
He remembered, with painful clarity, stabbing her. The way her eyes widened, the way life left them, swiftly, neatly. A few seconds of pain, followed by emptiness.
And the quiet after the battle.
*
Lee spent most of his first two days in sickbay staring at the ceiling, ignoring everyone who came to see him, only replying when Cottle or one of the nurses asked him how he felt and whether or not he needed more pain meds. They didn't ask about what had happened in the storage room and he didn't volunteer information.
He only told what happened once, when Tigh came in to ask for his report. Tigh took notes, his face betraying nothing, nodded and left when they were done on a flat, "Get well soon, Major."
Dee came by to see him, kissed him softly, said, "I love you." She didn't try to ask him how he felt or what happened. He allowed her to entwine their fingers and he squeezed her hand to hold her back when she tried to go.
She stayed with him through the night, neither of them saying a word.
He couldn't muster the energy for words, and it wasn't like he had anything to say.
All he could think about was Kara, and all the times he had been intimate with her, all the times he had confided in her, all the times he had trusted her, all the times he had told himself that their friendship would last forever.
On the third day, he woke up to find his father sitting next to his bed, hands over his face.
On impulse, he said, "I'm sorry," his voice hoarse.
His father looked up, and Lee was startled to realize that his eyes were too bright. He couldn't remember the last time he had seen his father cry-not even at Zak's funeral.
"Lee?"
"I'm sorry," he repeated, ruthlessly forcing the words out. "I know you loved her." Like a daughter. His father had lots of sons and daughters on the Galactica, but he was closest to some of them.
His father nodded, his face hard. "Yes, I did. But honestly, Lee, I'll survive losing… her." He hadn't used her name, Lee noticed. And there was an edge in his father's voice that said he felt just as betrayed as Lee did. "I don't think…"
Lee nodded when his father trailed off, hearing the implied, "I'd rather lose her than you."
"She had a knife," he said. I wonder why she didn't use a gun, like Boomer when she tried to kill you.
Knifes were more personal. More intimate.
"Cottle says it was close," his father said.
Lee tried to meet his eyes, tried to smile, but couldn't get his lips to move the right way.
"You should rest."
"She'll be back," Lee said, ignoring him.
At least, the Kara they'd see again wouldn't be the girl they had known-the girl Lee had kissed and made love to, the girl his father had hugged and praised and welcomed into the family.
That one was dead, and maybe it was more merciful that way.
"We'll be ready," his father said with all the confidence of a life long command officer.
We'll never be ready enough, Lee wanted to say. How could we? He closed his eyes, suddenly exhausted.
But then, his father's hand squeezed his shoulder softly and Lee heard a murmured, "I'm sorry for your loss, son," and he thought that hopefully, as long as they had each other, they'd manage to deal with whatever the Cylons threw at them.
end
Part Four
Author : Helen C.
Summary : See title. A series of four unrelated, unashamedly H/C, AU ficlets.
Fandom : BSG
Rating : PG-13
Spoilers : Everything aired so far is fair game.
Disclaimer : The characters and the universe were created and are owned by Ronald D. Moore and Universal Television Studios to name but a few. No money is being made. No copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
AN. Many thanks to Mick1997 for beta'ing this! As often happens, I tinkered-all remaining mistakes are mine.
Warning: character death (no, not Lee).
Four Times Lee Adama Almost (But Not Quite) Died
Helen C.
Time #3
The bright lights overhead were spinning in and out of focus, making his head hurt, and that was the first thing that registered on Lee's consciousness-and the first sign he got that something wasn't right with him.
Light wasn't supposed to hurt that much.
His vision wasn't supposed to be so blurry.
The ceiling wasn't supposed to move on its own.
The sound wasn't supposed to be drowned out by the buzzing in his ears.
He remained totally motionless for a few heartbeats, or a few hours, waiting for… something-a sign, a memory, a clue as to what he was doing here, and why he felt like shit.
Eventually, he forced himself to face it; lying here like an idiot wasn't helping.
After another long beat, a thought started to emerge from the fog. Analyze the situation. Analyze your resources, find out how you are.
It took an effort, but after a few tries, Lee managed to focus long enough on the sensations to take stock of how he felt.
He didn't like what he found.
His mouth was dry as hell and he grimaced when he swallowed, feeling like sandpaper was lining his throat.
He was cold. Very cold, now that he actually paid attention to it.
His head was pounding and his thoughts were strangely… disconnected. He had the disturbing feeling that he was usually sharper, quicker than this, but he couldn't remember how he was supposed to think.
Even more worrying was the fact that he could feel a warm and sticky pool of… something under his hands. With lazy, uncoordinated movements, he allowed his left hand to trail on the ground around him (his right hand didn't feel quite right, and he didn't think trying to use it would be a good idea), then raised his fingers until they entered his line of sight and studied the red coating them.
Blood.
He should probably feel more worried about that than he was, but he just couldn't summon the energy to be scared.
Then, the ceiling started to… distort was as close as he could come to describe it. The edges blurred, the lights started to spin dizzily and he closed his eyes, fighting back a wave of nausea.
He wouldn't have minded falling asleep, right about now, and waking up in a world where ceilings didn't do that, in a world where he wasn't lying in blood.
Something was nagging at him, though-the vague feeling that sleeping would be a bad idea, possibly a fatal one. He racked his brain for an explanation, and it dawned on him.
Shock.
He was losing blood, he felt cold and sleepy-he was going into shock. If he fell asleep, he was going to die.
His eyes snapped open of their own accord and he moaned when the light sent a sharp pain knifing through his brain.
He had to move now, while he still could-while he still had the strength to do it, while he was still lucid enough to realize how important it was that he did something.
Bracing himself, Lee slowly turned his head to the side. He had to close his eyes to ward off the sudden onslaught of pain at the motion. Frak.
Okay, so, whatever he did next was going to be hard and painful as hell.
Great.
When he opened his eyes again-how long had he spent bleeding, lying here, waiting? Too long?-the first thing he noticed was the red on the ground.
Then, he saw Kara's face, her open eyes staring blankly in his direction.
His breath caught in his throat as cold memories rushed back in.
He made an effort to consciously breathe-in and out, carefully, mindful of the pain that shot through his side.
"Kara," he whispered, uselessly.
She didn't move, didn't reply. Of course.
He closed his eyes against the sight of her. "Hey!" he called as loudly as he could. He breathed through the pain, waited until the worst of it had passed and tried again. "Anyone around?"
Nothing but silence. He sighed. Well, it had been worth a try.
He forced his eyes open, struggled to raise his head and looked down at himself. His shirt was covered with blood from his side to mid-thigh on the left, his right side felt very sore, his right hand was starting to throb badly, and he didn't like the way the room swam when he moved his head.
There seemed to be red everywhere on the floor. How much of it was his, and how much was Kara's?
Without dwelling on the question-he didn't want to know-he looked around, trying to find something that could help him. The only obvious solution he could spot was the phone near the hatch, on the far wall of the room.
Sighing, he lowered his head back to the ground.
*
"How can you even say that?" Kara's laughter was infectious and even if it was at his expense, Lee found himself laughing along with her and Zak.
"Easy," he teased once they regained their composure. "I open my mouth, articulate words, and here I am, saying, again, that what you call music is nothing but noise, and that classic is the way to go."
She shook her head, still chuckling. "Shame on you! For that reason only, you get to pay the next round."
It was Lee's turn to pay anyway, so he just shrugged and got to his feet, waiting until the room had stopped spinning to make his way to the bar, being very careful to walk in a straight line-and, judging from the bartender's amused expression, failing miserably.
He did manage not to spill too much ambrosia on his way back to their table, where Zak and Kara were looking at him with fascination.
"How does he do that?" Zak asked to no one in particular. "I don't think I could even stand at this point."
"Easy," Kara said, parroting Lee's words. "He puts one foot in front of the other, and there he is, walking. Like an old lady."
Lee resisted the urge to stick out his tongue at her. He was determined to take the high road-as if such a thing mattered when dealing with Kara.
"So," he said, taking a swig of alcohol and smiling in satisfaction-this bar really was the best of Caprica-"Where were we?"
"We were getting drunk and discussing music, politics, philosophy and life," Kara said, raising her glass in his direction. Her hair shone in the light, her smile was bright as she looked at him and Zak, and Lee thought, not for the first time, that that smile made it worth putting up with her bad days, her anger, her bitterness and everything she kept throwing at him.
"Cool, let's do that again."
Zak let his head drop on the table. "I'm dead," he moaned.
Lee and Kara looked at each other and started to laugh. "Poor thing," Kara said, mock-compassionately.
"Young people these days," Lee said, making sure his brother heard him. "No stamina."
Zak gave him the finger without raising his head, Kara laughed and Lee allowed himself to relax in his chair. Life was good.
*
Kara was dead.
Her body was slack, her face expressionless, her eyes still open on nothing.
Kara was a Cylon.
Kara was probably downloading into another body right now.
Would she know? Would she remember what had happened? Would she be one of the reluctant Cylons, like Sharon, or would she embrace her new life?
His best friend had been a Cylon all along.
They had laughed, kissed, driven one another insane and loved each other.
He had allowed her to touch him in every possible way.
He had allowed her into his life, into his family.
He wanted to die so he wouldn't have to live with that anymore, so he wouldn't have to fight to get over her.
The only reason why he started to drag himself across the floor, painful inch by painful inch, instead of surrendering to the darkness, was because he didn't think his father would survive losing them both.
*
"That was great!" Kara yelled, clapping Lee's shoulder so hard he stumbled.
"Thanks," he said, wondering if he was going to get another bruise out of this. Kara sure packed a punch.
"No, really, that was one neat piece of flying, Apollo!"
It wasn't every day that the almighty Starbuck praised someone's flying besides her own and Lee allowed the words to sink in, committing them to memory. He'd need them later, when she turned insufferable again.
"So, wanna go celebrate tonight?" Her eyes were as bright as her smile when she looked up at him.
He chuckled. "You just never miss an occasion, do you?"
"Nope," she replied, smirking, already sure that he would go to the bar with her-when had he ever been able to turn her down?
For once, she seemed carefree-as she usually did when she was flying or when she had just touched ground. Soon, he knew, her demons would rear their heads again, calling for her attention, and she'd become the annoying bitch she could sometimes be.
He didn't mind. He liked seeing her happy, liked seeing her laughing with him, with Zak, but even when she was at her pissy worst, he still enjoyed her company.
She was the best friend he had ever had, she challenged him like no one else, and there were days when he prayed to gods he didn't believe in that he'd never lose that friendship.
*
Lee had no idea what had activated her. He was sure she had been dormant up until the moment they had entered this storage room, though.
He had seen something click in her eyes. Lee had heard people say that seeing a Cylon being activated was probably like seeing a switch being turned on, but he didn't agree. It was a lot more like a door closing on the human inside, and another door opening.
He had seen that small flicker, almost imperceptible. The only reason he had even noticed was that he knew her so well. For a fraction of second, she hadn't looked like Kara anymore.
It had been his only warning before she had lunged at him with a knife.
And just like that, his best friend had been gone, replaced by a machine hell bent on killing him.
Lee had been pissed as hell at the Cylons before, had even hated Boomer-who had betrayed them all, who had shot his father point blank, without reason-but never before had he felt this all-consuming hatred, this thirst for vengeance.
He used the anger to keep him going a few more inches, then stopped, gasping. He rested his head on the floor. He couldn't go any farther. It felt like he had spent years at it already, and he hadn't even reached the halfway point. He was shivering, covered in cold sweat, and he was leaving a trail of blood behind him and frak but it hurt.
Out of nowhere, a picture jumped in his mind-his father's face at Zak's funeral. Lee had tried very hard to forget about that day; only the fight that had followed the ceremony still remained clear in his memory. But apparently, his brain had decided to store the information away for later.
How had he managed to forget the pain etched on his father's features?
A part of him-the part that would forever remain a resentful, insecure, angry teenager-wondered if his father would feel as bad about his death as he had felt about Zak's. Then, shame set in. No matter what their differences might be, he didn't doubt that his father loved him, not anymore.
He swallowed, took another look at the faraway phone, gritted his teeth on the groan that wanted to escape. Then, he started crawling again.
*
"Zak says he's going to enroll into flight school," Kara said as she and Lee were soaking in the sun on the beach. It was their last day of freedom before their next assignment in space, and they had decided to make the most of it.
"Yes," Lee replied. It was no secret that he'd have preferred his brother did something safer, something that wasn't so likely to get him killed. Of course, Lee himself didn't think about the danger when he flew-only about the fact that he was good at it, only about the fact that it was exhilarating and thrilling, almost addictive. It was only now that his brother had decided to join the army that Lee also saw how damn dangerous it was.
"Don't sound so enthusiastic."
Lee didn't reply, his eyes drawn to the figure of his brother, who was running along the shore, speeding up and slowing down at random intervals, obviously enjoying himself.
"Look, I know you're worried about him, but I'm sure he'll be a good pilot."
She didn't remind Lee that it was in his blood. He had heard that argument too many times already.
His mother was pissed at them both-seeing them follow in their father's footsteps made her feel like she had lost some kind of long-standing contest with her ex-husband. Lee had tried, time and again, to explain that it wasn't about the army, that he just wanted, needed, to fly, but all she saw was the uniform he put on. Ah, well, it wasn't the first time she was pissed at him. He would survive, as would Zak.
"He's worried about you, the same way you're worried about him." Kara wasn't letting go. Of course, she wasn't. She was too bull-headed for that.
"I know."
"He looks up to you a great deal."
That was precisely what bothered Lee. He didn't want his brother to feel like he had anything to prove, either to their father or to him. He couldn't shake the feeling that Zak was choosing flight school for all the wrong reasons, and he had seen what happened to the pilots who didn't put their whole heart into what they were doing.
He didn't want his brother to die because he had made the wrong choice.
Kara added, seemingly unaware of his uneasiness, "Besides, the more you try to dissuade him, the more he'll want to do it."
Lee nodded. Stubbornness was another thing that ran in all Adamas' blood.
Kara put her hand on his arm and he turned to look at her. "Don't worry so much. It'll be fine."
The words sounded like a promise. Lee trusted Kara enough to believe it.
*
Lee was still flat on the floor, panting, but at least, he had reached the wall.
He had tried his best not to think about the second part of the plan as he was making his way to here, but now, he couldn't avoid it anymore. He was going to need to get to his knees to reach the phone.
He swallowed, took a shallow breath. The pain wasn't so bad anymore, but Lee didn't think that was a good sign. The shivering was even worse now than it had been when he had first woken up, the trembling so bad that he had to clench his teeth to stop them from chattering.
He needed to move. He wasn't going to stay conscious much longer, and if he passed out, he was going to die before anyone found him.
Gathering his resolve, he slowly pushed himself into a sitting position. The whole room started to spin around him and he waited for it to pass, hoping he wasn't going to lose consciousness now-not after all that, not when the goal was so near he could almost touch it.
Once he didn't feel so much on the verge of passing out anymore, he dragged himself to his knees, clinging to the wall for support, and reached up to take a hold of the phone.
"Medical team needed to storage room fifteen," he said, his breath coming in short gasps. He heard a click on the line, repeated, "Medical team to storage room fifteen," then stopped fighting and allowed himself to fall back to the ground.
*
Lee's reflexes probably saved his life. When Kara came at him with the knife, aiming at his throat, he took a step back and raised his hand in front of himself.
The knife went straight through the hand.
For a split second, he stared at it dumbly, surprised that it didn't hurt more-the way the knife was protruding on both sides of the hand, he should have felt something. Then, Kara jerked the knife back out, and a scream tore out of Lee's throat.
"What-?"
She looked at him, her eyes frighteningly blank. Then, she raised the knife again and struck at his face. He caught her wrist and twisted, hard, his hand pulsing with every movement. The knife fell to the ground with a metallic clang.
They stared at each other for a beat, then she kicked at him, surprising him enough that he released her.
"What are you doing?" he asked, even though he knew. He had seen it, however briefly.
Another dormant Cylon had just been awoken.
Lee couldn't believe it. Boomer had made sense, in a way-she was always so controlled, so perfect. But Kara had always struck him as deeply human, probably because of her flaws and her frakked up attitude.
She punched him, her fist landing square on his jaw, and he took a few steps back, dazed. He saw her move to the knife and kicked it away from them both.
"Kara," he tried.
She punched him again, so fast he barely saw it coming.
He swallowed painfully.
What was he supposed to say?
Fight it?
This is me, and you. Don't do that?
Nothing he could say would change anything.
Most of the fight was a blur-Kara had always hit hard. Now, at least, Lee knew why, and it made him smile a little through the pain and the adrenaline and the shock. Seemed like Kara's freakish aim and strength had come from somewhere special after all.
He remembered her hitting him, he remembered hitting back, as hard as he could.
He remembered them both falling to the ground.
He didn't remember her stabbing him-only a flash of pain, quickly followed by numbness.
He remembered the frantic grappling for the weapon.
He remembered, with painful clarity, stabbing her. The way her eyes widened, the way life left them, swiftly, neatly. A few seconds of pain, followed by emptiness.
And the quiet after the battle.
*
Lee spent most of his first two days in sickbay staring at the ceiling, ignoring everyone who came to see him, only replying when Cottle or one of the nurses asked him how he felt and whether or not he needed more pain meds. They didn't ask about what had happened in the storage room and he didn't volunteer information.
He only told what happened once, when Tigh came in to ask for his report. Tigh took notes, his face betraying nothing, nodded and left when they were done on a flat, "Get well soon, Major."
Dee came by to see him, kissed him softly, said, "I love you." She didn't try to ask him how he felt or what happened. He allowed her to entwine their fingers and he squeezed her hand to hold her back when she tried to go.
She stayed with him through the night, neither of them saying a word.
He couldn't muster the energy for words, and it wasn't like he had anything to say.
All he could think about was Kara, and all the times he had been intimate with her, all the times he had confided in her, all the times he had trusted her, all the times he had told himself that their friendship would last forever.
On the third day, he woke up to find his father sitting next to his bed, hands over his face.
On impulse, he said, "I'm sorry," his voice hoarse.
His father looked up, and Lee was startled to realize that his eyes were too bright. He couldn't remember the last time he had seen his father cry-not even at Zak's funeral.
"Lee?"
"I'm sorry," he repeated, ruthlessly forcing the words out. "I know you loved her." Like a daughter. His father had lots of sons and daughters on the Galactica, but he was closest to some of them.
His father nodded, his face hard. "Yes, I did. But honestly, Lee, I'll survive losing… her." He hadn't used her name, Lee noticed. And there was an edge in his father's voice that said he felt just as betrayed as Lee did. "I don't think…"
Lee nodded when his father trailed off, hearing the implied, "I'd rather lose her than you."
"She had a knife," he said. I wonder why she didn't use a gun, like Boomer when she tried to kill you.
Knifes were more personal. More intimate.
"Cottle says it was close," his father said.
Lee tried to meet his eyes, tried to smile, but couldn't get his lips to move the right way.
"You should rest."
"She'll be back," Lee said, ignoring him.
At least, the Kara they'd see again wouldn't be the girl they had known-the girl Lee had kissed and made love to, the girl his father had hugged and praised and welcomed into the family.
That one was dead, and maybe it was more merciful that way.
"We'll be ready," his father said with all the confidence of a life long command officer.
We'll never be ready enough, Lee wanted to say. How could we? He closed his eyes, suddenly exhausted.
But then, his father's hand squeezed his shoulder softly and Lee heard a murmured, "I'm sorry for your loss, son," and he thought that hopefully, as long as they had each other, they'd manage to deal with whatever the Cylons threw at them.
end
Part Four