BSG Fic : In Times of Peace (1/1)
Title : In Times of Peace
Author : Helen C.
Rating : PG-13
Summary : Later, Lee would remember that the explosion happened just as he was telling himself that things could be worse. (Takes place shortly after the Fleet settles on New Caprica)
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.
AN1. Gratuitous angst. (This is all suffolkgirl's fault. Just saying.)
AN2. Many thanks to joey51 for beta'ing this!
In Times of Peace
Helen C.
It was a strange thing; after so many months longing for a chance to rest, hoping the war would stop, Lee couldn't bring himself to let his guard down, now that it had.
Officially, they were at peace, even if no treaty had been signed. The Cylons had sworn to leave them alone.
Of course, the Cylons had proven in the past that they were not to be trusted.
Lee was constantly braced for something to go wrong-a sneak Cylon attack or a manifestation from the discontent of the Fleet.
We've been fighting for too long, he thought. What if we can't figure out how to stop running?
Most of the Fleet had happily settled down on New Caprica (Lee still wasn't sure it was wise to choose that name, considering the fate of the old Caprica), leaving only a few ships and the two battlestars in orbit, looking over them.
They were at peace, but peace had a bitter taste of too little, too late.
Peace these days meant two battlestars, undermanned by exhausted soldiers, parked above a planet that might be their downfall.
Peace meant looking for ways to keep the men busy, when for over two years, their whole lives had been devoted to fighting an enemy hell bent on killing them all.
As he was walking to the CIC with his father, discussing the best way to do just that, Lee reminded himself that the Cylons losing interest in them was actually a good thing-certainly, almost anything was better than having them on their tail.
Later, Lee would remember that the explosion happened just as he was telling himself that things could be worse.
"Maybe we should organize-" his father started.
It was the last thing Lee heard for a while.
Without transition, he found himself flat on his back, coughing in the smoke and blinking to clear his vision.
"What the-?" he said. He couldn't hear himself past the deafening buzzing in his ears.
Dazed, he looked around, his eyes settling on his father.
He's not moving, he noted distantly.
It took a while for the implications to sink in.
When it did, he scrambled to his feet and hurried to his father, dropping to his knees, his head swimming with every movement.
He tried not to think about anything, tried not to notice that his father didn't react in any way when he put pressure on the wounds, the blood seeping through his fingers just like it had in CIC, over a year ago. Instead, he focused his whole attention on doing what he'd been taught in his first aid classes, disregarding the fact that it was father lying there, getting whiter by the minute.
He swallowed past the ball of panic forming at the back of his throat.
His father would be fine.
He hadn't survived the destruction of the Colonies and almost two years of war (not mentioning the first Cylon War) only to die from an accident-assuming it was an accident.
Someone grabbed his shoulders, heaving him out of the way. Startled, Lee turned to face the intruder, ready to defend himself, and let out a shaky breath when he recognized one of the medics.
The man raised both hands to indicate he was no threat. He was talking fast but Lee still couldn't hear past the noise in his ears.
"What?" he yelled.
The medic shook his head and pushed Lee aside, focusing on his father and frowning at the sight.
Is he going to be all right? Lee wanted to ask. Can you do something to help him? Can I do something to help?
It would only have hampered the medic's efforts, though, and Lee wouldn't have understood the answer anyway, so he kept quiet-an effort that took every inch of self-restraint he possessed.
Two more medics were working around his father now.
The one who had pushed Lee out of the way-Wilkes, Lee recalled now-took his arm and tried to guide him away. Lee shrugged him off and stood there, watching as the medics worked to save his father's life.
Déjà vu, except that by this time last year, he had been on his way to the brig already.
He wasn't sure which was worse-wondering what was happening, or seeing everything?
He only started moving again when the medics lifted his father on the stretcher and rushed to the infirmary, following them and leaving Wilkes to trail after him.
*
"I want you to stay here for a few hours," Ishay said.
The reply was on his lips before he could think about it. "I'm fine." The buzzing was still there, annoying and muting the sounds around him, but at least he could hear somewhat now.
His father was still alive-currently undergoing surgery to remove a piece of shrapnel.
The last thing Lee wanted to do was sit here and wait.
"No, you're not," Ishay replied.
Lee looked down at his hands, one of them cleaned and bandaged, the other still covered in his father's blood.
He swallowed back a wave of nausea. "I can leave," he insisted.
"You just let me put six stitches in your hand without anaesthesia," she retorted.
He couldn't think of anything to say to that, so he kept quiet. A pair of feet came into his line of sight, coming to a stop next to Ishay's.
Lee looked up to see Helo standing awkwardly near the bed, a worried frown on his face.
"You knocked your head pretty good, Commander," Ishay went on. "We're keeping you here for a few hours; get used to it."
She spun on her heels and left the room before he could speak.
"I think she's been taking lessons from Cottle," Helo offered.
Lee tried to smile but it felt out of place on his face and he couldn't summon the energy to do better.
"I heard that," Ishay called from the other side of the curtain.
Helo shrugged. "They'll let you know as soon as they know anything," he said.
"Yeah." Lee lay back against the pillows.
Now that he had admitted defeat, his head was pounding and he felt like someone had spent a few hours hitting him all over with a crowbar.
"The Fleet?" he asked, eyes trained on the curtain separating his bed from the rest of the infirmary.
Helo's voice was calm and confident when he replied, "Everything's under control. Major Shaw is on top of things, the rest of the ships and the planet have been apprised of what happened, and we're investigating the explosion." He clasped his hands behind his back, standing straighter. "So, you better get some sleep while you can, Commander. Because all these people are going to want to hear from the Admiral soon, and I'm not fielding those calls. Sir."
Lee smiled and this time, it didn't feel like a horrible grimace. "Coward."
"Yes, sir."
*
Six hours later, Cottle was waving him closer to his father's bed, looking as impassive as ever.
"Is he going to be okay?" Lee asked, walking carefully. Gods, he was sore, and even lying down wasn't helping much. His father looked much better than the last time Lee had seen him in sickbay when he had been shot-pale and weak, sure, but not like he was about to die.
"Well, given he was shot less than a year ago, I'd have preferred not to see him in here so soon; this said, yes, considering the circumstances, I think he's going to be fine."
That wasn't as reassuring as Lee would have wished, but he'd take what he could get.
"You can go, by the way," Cottle added. "You don't seem to have done any lasting damage to yourself." His face softened for a second as he added, "Though I'm sure you must feel like shit."
Lee snorted. "Yeah." He took another step to his father's side. "Can I have a minute?" he asked.
There were a lot of things he needed to do-talk to his wife, relieve his XO, call the surface, study the report about the accident-Helo assured them that the explosion was just that; an accident. A short-circuit in the wrong place, at the wrong time.
Nothing that couldn't wait for another five minutes, though.
Cottle grunted. "I'll be in my office."
Lee waited until he was gone before taking his father's hand. "Hey, dad," he said. Not finding anything else to add, he stood in silence for a while.
*
The first thing Ana did when he got back to his quarters after talking to his XO was send him off to take a shower. Despite the fact that they had allowed him to wash off in sickbay, he still scrubbed his uninjured hand for a long while, the sticky feeling of blood coating it refusing to abate.
"Are you all right?" Ana asked when he finally emerged from the bathroom, wearing only sweatpants. She grimaced and he looked down at the bruises on his chest, arms and back.
These were going to hurt for a while.
"Yeah," he replied anyway.
She rolled her eyes but didn't call him on the lie.
He sat on the bed, staring at the bandage on his hand. He had gotten it wet, which was sure to earn him complaints from the Pegasus CMO, but he didn't give a damn.
Ana went to the bathroom and came back with a medical kit, sitting down next to him and taking his hand. "Let me change that," she said.
He allowed her to unwrap the bandage without comment, the softness of her touch soothing his frayed nerves.
It's the second time in less than a year, he thought. The second time I've had my hands covered with his blood.
The second time he almost died.
He didn't utter the first word, too scared he'd start screaming if he spoke.
Dee knew how to read both he and his father, though. It didn't take her long to understand what he was thinking about-after all, she had been there too when his father had gotten shot.
He heard her sigh, then she pushed him to the bed and put a cover over him.
For the first time, he realized he was shaking.
At least, this time, he had gotten to wash the blood off his hands. Last year, when he had finally been allowed to do it, the blood had been completely dry. He had felt it for days afterwards.
He shuddered.
"He's tough," Dee said, climbing on the bed next to him and lying down at his side, her hand on his chest. "He'll be fine."
"Yeah."
Adamas were notoriously stubborn and strong-willed-and none more so than his father.
It had taken an embarrassingly long time for Lee to stop believing that his father was indestructible, but he had.
He couldn't claim he knew the human being underneath the commander but he knew that there was one-one who could screw up, Lee could attest to that. One who could be killed, as Boomer proved.
Almost losing him again, especially now that they were supposed to be safe, left Lee shaken and pissed off-for a few seconds, he wished he felt a little less beat. He wouldn't have minded taking out his frustration on a punching bag.
"Lee?"
He smiled sadly, anger draining from him as suddenly as it had come. "That's the last thing I expected when I got out of bed this morning."
"I know." Dee nestled her head against his shoulder, managing to find the few square inches of skin that weren't bruised. "We got used to peace time very quickly, didn't we?"
"In a way, I suppose," Lee replied. Earlier (much, much earlier) in the day, he had thought otherwise. But if nothing else, this accident had showed how easily he could still be blindsided, how fragile life still was.
He put an arm around Dee, noting that he wasn't shivering any more.
She pressed herself closer to him.
Together, they waited for sleep to come.
*
His father was awake and remarkably alert the next time Lee saw him.
"Admiral," Lee said when his father spotted him. He looked bored and Lee assumed that they were diminishing the pain meds-which meant that looking at the ceiling for long stretches of time was probably losing its appeal.
"Lee," his father replied, motioning for him to come closer. He studied him critically before saying, "They told me you hadn't been injured, but you look like shit, son."
"Feel like it, too," Lee admitted, trying not to grimace when he sat down.
Frankly, his father looked better than he felt. Of course, very little shook the man.
"I assume you and Helo are running the show?" his father asked.
Lee nodded. "President Baltar asked if there was anything he could do."
His father snorted, his face tightening with pain for a second. "What did you reply?"
"I was vague and relatively polite." I hope. His father shot him a quizzical look and Lee shrugged. "Relatively."
"Helo tells me it wasn't an attack."
"Looks like." Lee didn't want to think about the odds of both commanders of the only remaining battlestars passing a hallway where some malfunction caused an explosion. That was just too ridiculous to contemplate. "I think the gods have it in for us."
"It could be worse," his father said.
Lee chuckled. "Funny. That's what I was telling myself three seconds before it happened."
"Ouch," his father said flatly.
They shared a glance. Lee looked away first. "How are you doing? Really?" he asked.
"Sore as hell. Cottle says I'll be back to light duty in about fifty hours, though." There was a pause. "You?"
I could have lived without a repeat performance of what happened in CIC, thank you very much. "Fine," he said, shrugging. "Obviously, life would be better if parts of the ship didn't blow up at random, but what can you do? This is an old ship."
"No insulting the Bucket," his father replied. "She's kept us going this far."
"That she has," Lee replied. The Galactica may not be his ship any longer, but it was still the closest thing to home he had left.
"Well, it's good that one of us is on his feet, at least," his father said, and Lee thought he could hear a little more behind the words than just relief that one of them was valid enough to keep things running.
"Hurry back to duty, Admiral," he replied. "There are only so many calls from our President I'll be able to stomach before I say something we'll all regret."
"Wouldn't want that."
The shared another look and this time, his father was the one to break it off. "Now. How are things going on the Pegasus?"
Feeling as if a weight had been lifted from his shoulders, Lee sat back and started talking.
end
Author : Helen C.
Rating : PG-13
Summary : Later, Lee would remember that the explosion happened just as he was telling himself that things could be worse. (Takes place shortly after the Fleet settles on New Caprica)
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.
AN1. Gratuitous angst. (This is all suffolkgirl's fault. Just saying.)
AN2. Many thanks to joey51 for beta'ing this!
In Times of Peace
Helen C.
It was a strange thing; after so many months longing for a chance to rest, hoping the war would stop, Lee couldn't bring himself to let his guard down, now that it had.
Officially, they were at peace, even if no treaty had been signed. The Cylons had sworn to leave them alone.
Of course, the Cylons had proven in the past that they were not to be trusted.
Lee was constantly braced for something to go wrong-a sneak Cylon attack or a manifestation from the discontent of the Fleet.
We've been fighting for too long, he thought. What if we can't figure out how to stop running?
Most of the Fleet had happily settled down on New Caprica (Lee still wasn't sure it was wise to choose that name, considering the fate of the old Caprica), leaving only a few ships and the two battlestars in orbit, looking over them.
They were at peace, but peace had a bitter taste of too little, too late.
Peace these days meant two battlestars, undermanned by exhausted soldiers, parked above a planet that might be their downfall.
Peace meant looking for ways to keep the men busy, when for over two years, their whole lives had been devoted to fighting an enemy hell bent on killing them all.
As he was walking to the CIC with his father, discussing the best way to do just that, Lee reminded himself that the Cylons losing interest in them was actually a good thing-certainly, almost anything was better than having them on their tail.
Later, Lee would remember that the explosion happened just as he was telling himself that things could be worse.
"Maybe we should organize-" his father started.
It was the last thing Lee heard for a while.
Without transition, he found himself flat on his back, coughing in the smoke and blinking to clear his vision.
"What the-?" he said. He couldn't hear himself past the deafening buzzing in his ears.
Dazed, he looked around, his eyes settling on his father.
He's not moving, he noted distantly.
It took a while for the implications to sink in.
When it did, he scrambled to his feet and hurried to his father, dropping to his knees, his head swimming with every movement.
He tried not to think about anything, tried not to notice that his father didn't react in any way when he put pressure on the wounds, the blood seeping through his fingers just like it had in CIC, over a year ago. Instead, he focused his whole attention on doing what he'd been taught in his first aid classes, disregarding the fact that it was father lying there, getting whiter by the minute.
He swallowed past the ball of panic forming at the back of his throat.
His father would be fine.
He hadn't survived the destruction of the Colonies and almost two years of war (not mentioning the first Cylon War) only to die from an accident-assuming it was an accident.
Someone grabbed his shoulders, heaving him out of the way. Startled, Lee turned to face the intruder, ready to defend himself, and let out a shaky breath when he recognized one of the medics.
The man raised both hands to indicate he was no threat. He was talking fast but Lee still couldn't hear past the noise in his ears.
"What?" he yelled.
The medic shook his head and pushed Lee aside, focusing on his father and frowning at the sight.
Is he going to be all right? Lee wanted to ask. Can you do something to help him? Can I do something to help?
It would only have hampered the medic's efforts, though, and Lee wouldn't have understood the answer anyway, so he kept quiet-an effort that took every inch of self-restraint he possessed.
Two more medics were working around his father now.
The one who had pushed Lee out of the way-Wilkes, Lee recalled now-took his arm and tried to guide him away. Lee shrugged him off and stood there, watching as the medics worked to save his father's life.
Déjà vu, except that by this time last year, he had been on his way to the brig already.
He wasn't sure which was worse-wondering what was happening, or seeing everything?
He only started moving again when the medics lifted his father on the stretcher and rushed to the infirmary, following them and leaving Wilkes to trail after him.
*
"I want you to stay here for a few hours," Ishay said.
The reply was on his lips before he could think about it. "I'm fine." The buzzing was still there, annoying and muting the sounds around him, but at least he could hear somewhat now.
His father was still alive-currently undergoing surgery to remove a piece of shrapnel.
The last thing Lee wanted to do was sit here and wait.
"No, you're not," Ishay replied.
Lee looked down at his hands, one of them cleaned and bandaged, the other still covered in his father's blood.
He swallowed back a wave of nausea. "I can leave," he insisted.
"You just let me put six stitches in your hand without anaesthesia," she retorted.
He couldn't think of anything to say to that, so he kept quiet. A pair of feet came into his line of sight, coming to a stop next to Ishay's.
Lee looked up to see Helo standing awkwardly near the bed, a worried frown on his face.
"You knocked your head pretty good, Commander," Ishay went on. "We're keeping you here for a few hours; get used to it."
She spun on her heels and left the room before he could speak.
"I think she's been taking lessons from Cottle," Helo offered.
Lee tried to smile but it felt out of place on his face and he couldn't summon the energy to do better.
"I heard that," Ishay called from the other side of the curtain.
Helo shrugged. "They'll let you know as soon as they know anything," he said.
"Yeah." Lee lay back against the pillows.
Now that he had admitted defeat, his head was pounding and he felt like someone had spent a few hours hitting him all over with a crowbar.
"The Fleet?" he asked, eyes trained on the curtain separating his bed from the rest of the infirmary.
Helo's voice was calm and confident when he replied, "Everything's under control. Major Shaw is on top of things, the rest of the ships and the planet have been apprised of what happened, and we're investigating the explosion." He clasped his hands behind his back, standing straighter. "So, you better get some sleep while you can, Commander. Because all these people are going to want to hear from the Admiral soon, and I'm not fielding those calls. Sir."
Lee smiled and this time, it didn't feel like a horrible grimace. "Coward."
"Yes, sir."
*
Six hours later, Cottle was waving him closer to his father's bed, looking as impassive as ever.
"Is he going to be okay?" Lee asked, walking carefully. Gods, he was sore, and even lying down wasn't helping much. His father looked much better than the last time Lee had seen him in sickbay when he had been shot-pale and weak, sure, but not like he was about to die.
"Well, given he was shot less than a year ago, I'd have preferred not to see him in here so soon; this said, yes, considering the circumstances, I think he's going to be fine."
That wasn't as reassuring as Lee would have wished, but he'd take what he could get.
"You can go, by the way," Cottle added. "You don't seem to have done any lasting damage to yourself." His face softened for a second as he added, "Though I'm sure you must feel like shit."
Lee snorted. "Yeah." He took another step to his father's side. "Can I have a minute?" he asked.
There were a lot of things he needed to do-talk to his wife, relieve his XO, call the surface, study the report about the accident-Helo assured them that the explosion was just that; an accident. A short-circuit in the wrong place, at the wrong time.
Nothing that couldn't wait for another five minutes, though.
Cottle grunted. "I'll be in my office."
Lee waited until he was gone before taking his father's hand. "Hey, dad," he said. Not finding anything else to add, he stood in silence for a while.
*
The first thing Ana did when he got back to his quarters after talking to his XO was send him off to take a shower. Despite the fact that they had allowed him to wash off in sickbay, he still scrubbed his uninjured hand for a long while, the sticky feeling of blood coating it refusing to abate.
"Are you all right?" Ana asked when he finally emerged from the bathroom, wearing only sweatpants. She grimaced and he looked down at the bruises on his chest, arms and back.
These were going to hurt for a while.
"Yeah," he replied anyway.
She rolled her eyes but didn't call him on the lie.
He sat on the bed, staring at the bandage on his hand. He had gotten it wet, which was sure to earn him complaints from the Pegasus CMO, but he didn't give a damn.
Ana went to the bathroom and came back with a medical kit, sitting down next to him and taking his hand. "Let me change that," she said.
He allowed her to unwrap the bandage without comment, the softness of her touch soothing his frayed nerves.
It's the second time in less than a year, he thought. The second time I've had my hands covered with his blood.
The second time he almost died.
He didn't utter the first word, too scared he'd start screaming if he spoke.
Dee knew how to read both he and his father, though. It didn't take her long to understand what he was thinking about-after all, she had been there too when his father had gotten shot.
He heard her sigh, then she pushed him to the bed and put a cover over him.
For the first time, he realized he was shaking.
At least, this time, he had gotten to wash the blood off his hands. Last year, when he had finally been allowed to do it, the blood had been completely dry. He had felt it for days afterwards.
He shuddered.
"He's tough," Dee said, climbing on the bed next to him and lying down at his side, her hand on his chest. "He'll be fine."
"Yeah."
Adamas were notoriously stubborn and strong-willed-and none more so than his father.
It had taken an embarrassingly long time for Lee to stop believing that his father was indestructible, but he had.
He couldn't claim he knew the human being underneath the commander but he knew that there was one-one who could screw up, Lee could attest to that. One who could be killed, as Boomer proved.
Almost losing him again, especially now that they were supposed to be safe, left Lee shaken and pissed off-for a few seconds, he wished he felt a little less beat. He wouldn't have minded taking out his frustration on a punching bag.
"Lee?"
He smiled sadly, anger draining from him as suddenly as it had come. "That's the last thing I expected when I got out of bed this morning."
"I know." Dee nestled her head against his shoulder, managing to find the few square inches of skin that weren't bruised. "We got used to peace time very quickly, didn't we?"
"In a way, I suppose," Lee replied. Earlier (much, much earlier) in the day, he had thought otherwise. But if nothing else, this accident had showed how easily he could still be blindsided, how fragile life still was.
He put an arm around Dee, noting that he wasn't shivering any more.
She pressed herself closer to him.
Together, they waited for sleep to come.
*
His father was awake and remarkably alert the next time Lee saw him.
"Admiral," Lee said when his father spotted him. He looked bored and Lee assumed that they were diminishing the pain meds-which meant that looking at the ceiling for long stretches of time was probably losing its appeal.
"Lee," his father replied, motioning for him to come closer. He studied him critically before saying, "They told me you hadn't been injured, but you look like shit, son."
"Feel like it, too," Lee admitted, trying not to grimace when he sat down.
Frankly, his father looked better than he felt. Of course, very little shook the man.
"I assume you and Helo are running the show?" his father asked.
Lee nodded. "President Baltar asked if there was anything he could do."
His father snorted, his face tightening with pain for a second. "What did you reply?"
"I was vague and relatively polite." I hope. His father shot him a quizzical look and Lee shrugged. "Relatively."
"Helo tells me it wasn't an attack."
"Looks like." Lee didn't want to think about the odds of both commanders of the only remaining battlestars passing a hallway where some malfunction caused an explosion. That was just too ridiculous to contemplate. "I think the gods have it in for us."
"It could be worse," his father said.
Lee chuckled. "Funny. That's what I was telling myself three seconds before it happened."
"Ouch," his father said flatly.
They shared a glance. Lee looked away first. "How are you doing? Really?" he asked.
"Sore as hell. Cottle says I'll be back to light duty in about fifty hours, though." There was a pause. "You?"
I could have lived without a repeat performance of what happened in CIC, thank you very much. "Fine," he said, shrugging. "Obviously, life would be better if parts of the ship didn't blow up at random, but what can you do? This is an old ship."
"No insulting the Bucket," his father replied. "She's kept us going this far."
"That she has," Lee replied. The Galactica may not be his ship any longer, but it was still the closest thing to home he had left.
"Well, it's good that one of us is on his feet, at least," his father said, and Lee thought he could hear a little more behind the words than just relief that one of them was valid enough to keep things running.
"Hurry back to duty, Admiral," he replied. "There are only so many calls from our President I'll be able to stomach before I say something we'll all regret."
"Wouldn't want that."
The shared another look and this time, his father was the one to break it off. "Now. How are things going on the Pegasus?"
Feeling as if a weight had been lifted from his shoulders, Lee sat back and started talking.
end