New ICED - 4/5, K/L, NC-17, S2 aired
Dec. 5th, 2005 11:36 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
rabid1stICED
By Rabid1st
BSG – K/L
RATING: NC-17, baby!
BETA BABES: Dualbunny, Birthsister and Winter_Queen82
SPOILERS: I don’t think this fic has spoilers. But there is speculation of the coupling kind based on S2: Flight of the Phoenix.
TECHNICAL RESOURCES: Wikepedia: hypothalamus and Hypothermia.org
SUMMARY:This is a ‘nugget slang’ fic and a sequel to Shoot Your Shade. Which was a sequel to Burn the Pipe. Lee shot his shade (overreacted) last time out when he learned about Anders and dumped Kara cold. Now the path to togetherness is about to be iced.
DISCLAIMER: I don’t own these characters. They belong to the SciFi Channel, R&D and Ron Moore…whose e-mail address I don’t know. So, I can’t really ask him for permission or anything. But I’m not making any money or perks off of these characters…so please don’t sue me.
PART FOUR
Lee didn’t have to look far to find fault. Karios hated him. At ten he’d overheard his mother explaining this to a group of friends. She’d laughed when she’d said it but Lee had taken the message to heart. He had, she’d noted, Athena’s blessings of good looks and a fine intellect. It was only natural to be cursed in equal measure. And as his mother had claimed he was never around when she wanted him and always around when she didn’t. Nobody could have such atrociously bad timing through genetic accident alone. Lee had obviously offended the God of Golden Opportunities somehow.
For the most part Lee didn’t care if he had. So, what if he couldn’t tell a joke without tripping over the punch line? If every time he got the Triple someone else had Full Colors? Nature had blessed him physically. He had a quick mind and raw talent. Apollo and Athena favored him. He compensated. If anything the curse made him a better pilot. He relied on honed skills and turned a cold shoulder to luck. But when it came to Kara, he really felt the sting of his handicap. Every one of his golden moments with her turned to dross.
He was up and moving before he thought about his pants. Tripping, he struggled with them, making rapid adjustments. While he hastily aligned his waistband he couldn’t help reflecting on the last time he’d made love to Kara. Frakked. Used. He might as well find the right word. There’d been very little of the lover in his mad possession. All his skill had deserted him and he’d taken what he wanted with almost no thought of pleasing her. She’d encouraged him, of course, but she’d been wounded both times, vulnerable.
Afterward on Caprica she’d treated him like a stranger. Someone she’d found in her bed the morning after a bender. Her rueful expression and inane pleasantries had cut him deeper than flat out rejection. Lee didn’t think he could deal with her isolating ways again. His world was a jigsaw puzzle now. Pieces scattered on a very small table. There’d be no escaping each other this time. They slept in the same room.
Straightening his spine, he buttoned his fly, trying not to think about her reproachful stare on his bare back. She hadn’t said a word since she’d mentioned her breathing. He’d rather have her questioning him than pretending he wasn’t there. Maybe she was finding it too hard to speak. But it was typical of her to crawl away like a wounded animal, emotionally if not literally, whenever she felt vulnerable. Decently covered, he thought suddenly of the med-kit and respirator somewhere in his sled. He should have had her on medicated vapors all along.
He was at the sled before he remembered the med-kit he sought was on the bottom of the bay. The realization sent his already unstable emotions into a tailspin. Looking out into the darkness, he recalled how he’d stupidly left the kit on the fracturing ice when he’d dived into the water. After the rescue, he’d found his bulky coat but there’d been no sign of the kit. The light, metal box must have skated around on the hyperactive ice floe until it skidded into the water.
It would be easy to blame Kairos again but Lee knew the memory lapse was a testament to the drug in his system. The tank had fogged his brain. Head tilted, he gripped the back of his neck, massaging the knots that kept forming as he slowly counted to twenty. He needed a clear head. Opening his eyes, he moved with precise care, checking and then rechecking the pockets in their damp clothing. The search confirmed what he already knew. All the antibiotics and analgesics had been stripped from individual artic gear. They had the minimum medication for emergencies. The tank was gone, that left stims, liquid skin and a nutritional booster.
Cottle had collected all of the potent pharmaceuticals on Galactica into his stores. He signed out the med-kits to each expedition, taking the drugs back into his care as soon as the mission ended. Drugs were valuable commodities in a post-Apocalyptic society and two of the three life-saving doses of Tetrazinc on this planet were now on the sea bottom, beyond Lee’s reach. The third dose was miles away in the Raptor. Thoughts jumbled, Lee braced his back to the sled. Gripping his head in both hands, he slid slowly into a defensive crouch, elbows stabbing into his knees.
More alarmed by Lee’s behavior than by her shortness of breath, Kara sat, folding the blanket around her hips.
“What’s wrong?”
“You have water in your lungs,” Lee murmured, not looking up at first.
“I got that part, Captain,” she said, wryly. “What’s wrong with you?”
A number of answers flitted through his mind in very quick succession. None of them would make the situation any better. After a pause, he lifted his chin and glanced toward her. “There’s no medicine. No med-kit.”
“Frak,” she said. Then, she frowned, rubbing a hand across her belly. “But…you tanked me…”
Looking down, she noticed her exposed and puckered nipples. The cold couldn’t be good for her. A quick visual sweep located Lee’s sweater. She pulled the wooly warmth of it over her head. As the sweater covered her face she inhaled, savoring the whiff of Lee lingering in the material. His scent was vaguely reminiscent of sun-dried cotton and statically cleaned water. Like a summer afternoon by the officer’s club pool, it was languidly inviting. Before the war, she’d imagined he wore cologne or used a specialized soap to smell so good but now she knew better. He was of only a few people in her acquaintance who smelled great straight out of the cockpit.
Ignoring her implied question, Lee jerked to his feet. He obviously didn’t want to talk to her. Kara bit back her comments and concentrated on her breathing. She could wait for him to calm down. She knew he was worried about her, probably blaming himself. He tended to personalize failure and his nerves wouldn’t take an argument right now. They’d been grated raw by tank and stress.
Lee started poking around in the sled to offset his anxiety. The last thing he wanted to do was start yelling at Kara. She was sick, in need of comfort and medicine. Jaw muscles chewing over an intense internal dialogue he worked on his issues as he searched for the respirator. He found it under the camouflage jacket that matched his dry pants. Checking the valves, he noted the attached reservoir had enough medicated fluid to dilate her bronchi for a few hours.
He did the math. The sun had set. The ice was hardening. If he left within the next thirty minutes he could make the Raptor before the respirator ran dry. Kara would only suffer for the time it took to power up and return here. But going straight to the Raptor meant aborting the mission.
The mission clock he’d brought from the Swan showed just over five hours remaining before the synchronized blasts were scheduled. They’d gone from having an abundance of time to almost no window at all. This meant he had to make a choice. To complete the mission all he had to do was cover a huge stretch of unknown ice at a steady pace of 155-mph. Then, there would be the simple matter of infiltrating a Cylon base, planting the explosives and getting clear without being seen. Once he’d successfully cleared the blast area, he’d still have to get safely back to the Raptor, probably with a squadron of Cylons on his ass. And he would definitely have to shake the Cylons before returning to this bay. Even if there were no hitches in the plan Kara could be here for a day or more without medical treatment.
As if she’d been reading his mind, Kara spoke with uncharacteristic softness. “You have to go,” she said. “We need to finish this.”
We…
There it was. His dilemma defined in one word. A serrated blade cut into Lee’s heart. He’d lost so much in the last year. Sometimes he felt like there was nothing left of him but his physical shell. There were mornings when he stared at his face in the mirror looking for someone he recognized. Yet, unlike so many in the fleet, he wasn’t alone. He had Kara, his father and a place where he belonged. His skills still had meaning and purpose. He was gradually designing a new life from the pieces of his old one, a life with Kara as the center point.
He couldn’t lose her now. Though the alternative wasn’t a choice he could live with either. If he didn’t complete their mission he’d be risking the lives of everyone in the fleet. It was one thing to simply react from his gut, to choose Kara in a split second of adrenaline-boosted decision-making. It was another to abandon his duty with forethought. Kara wouldn’t thank him, or even respect him, for forgetting he was a colonial officer. He could easily lose her that way, too.
His chin dropped to his chest. A deep breath cleared his head as he stared blindly down at their remaining supplies. His lids slowly dipped closed and the tension in his shoulders bled away. Eyes shut, one hand pinching the bridge of his nose, he sent up a silent prayer to the God of Golden Opportunity. A little luck was all he asked.
“I’m not going to leave you here to die, Kara.”
“Gods, Lee, don’t be so melodramatic,” she scoffed. “I've got a little fever and I got a little winded from the…” She arched her brows suggestively as she picked a euphemism, “Gasping? I’m not dying.”
But when she tried to laugh away his concern, her chuckle dissolved into a paroxysm of coughing. Pain hit like a flaming arrow through her chest. She pulled the blanket around her as she curled forward, holding out against the relentless hacking. Tucking the socks he was holding into a pocket and snatching the respirator Lee went to her side. He knelt to place his precious cargo by Kara’s head and then patted her shoulder. Eventually the coughing fit subsided. Kara slumped to her side and lay panting as Lee readied the respirator. She smiled wanly up at him.
When she could speak, she rasped, “I’m just going to get very, very sick.”
Lee’s brows lifted and his eyes glinted with surprise. It wasn’t like her to expose a weakness. Knowing she’d startled him with the confession, Kara winked. “That’s what we…in the rescuing business…call incentive, sir.”
Despite the weight bearing down on his chest, Lee couldn’t stop his tight-lipped grimace from widening into a grin. A nearly crippling wash of affection splashed over him, offsetting his recent bout of self-indulgent guilt.
“You always make the hero stuff look easy, Starbuck,” he said. Then, leaning closer, he lowered his voice to a confidential whisper as he added, “And you really don’t need to call me ‘sir’ right now. I think there’s some kind of post-coital clause.”
“Don’t make me laugh,” Kara chided, attempting to stifle a breathless chortle. Struggling not to cough she focused on him, reaching a hand up to rest it against his knee. “I would have gone into the water, too. To save you. Probably got us both killed.”
“Probably,” Lee agreed with a dash of his old infuriating smugness. He fished the pair of socks out of his pants pocket and offered them to her. “Hold these for a sec.” She squeezed his knee before letting go and taking the sock knot.
Lee adjusted the respirator’s headgear for her but Kara stopped him from putting the mask over her face.
“The difference between us,” she said, gently taking the headgear from him, “Is you would do the same thing for anyone.”
Lee considered this but shook his head. “No, I don’t think I would…not Baltar…”
“You ever gonna let that go?”
“I’m not sure,” he said, tugging a little on the mask, trying to get her to let go. “Why don’t you live to find out?”
“I can do that,” she said.
She handed him the socks in place of what he wanted. He took the hint and left her to adjust the mask while he went to her feet. Shoving the blanket aside he unrolled the socks and bunched them, one at a time, to slip onto her.
“I’m not sure I can do this,” he whispered, eyes on his task.
“They’re just socks, Lee.”
“Don’t,” he said, softly. He didn’t look up but his mouth drooped into a tight, humorless line.
Kara felt a pang of guilt and guilt always made her angry. She pulled her half-clad foot out of his grasp. Startled, Lee lifted his gaze to hers. A question formed on his lips. She pouted at him as her arms crossed defensively over her chest.
“It’s not life and death enough for you?” she challenged. “You want to be serious? Fine. You don’t have a choice. Suck it up.”
Molars grinding, brow furrowed Lee breathed heavily for a moment. “Not the mission, Kara,” he ground out, glaring at her. His stiff shoulders told her he thought she was being intentionally obtuse. He swept a hand back and forth between them. “This! Don’t make this like last time. It’s not.”
“Because nobody’s dead yet?” she asked venomously.
Lee’s blue eyes blazed. “Because we’ve changed. We aren’t going to pretend I’m some flyboy you dragged home from a bar.”
For a second Lee was sure she’d lash out again. She didn’t like intimacy. You had to pry her open and even then she might spit in your eye. But she liked what he was implying even less. Her mouth softened as her gaze slid away from his. Staring into the fire, she sighed a little. Lee waited for a further reaction. After a pregnant pause, Kara shifted into a more relaxed pose on the tarp and returned her foot to him, sliding it caressingly up his inner thigh.
“I don’t mean to do that,” she muttered without look at him, “Push you away. I’m just not good with…this.”
“And I am?” he asked softly, sliding her second sock into place.
“So…I know you,” she said, sharing an intimate little smile with the flickering flames. “Caprica City Champion, Fleet Champion…an Olympiad Qualifier. You’ll be back in no time. I was just slowing you down out there.”
“True,” Lee said without a trace of modesty. His cockiness coaxed an arched look from her. “But even I can’t push a Swan past 240 and live to brag about. And that’s top speed on a good, straight, empty stretch of highway. Out there in the dark…on the ice…” He held her gaze steadily as he said, “It’ll be hours before I can get your medicine.” He didn’t have to mention that they might not live that long.
Kara nodded wearily. The thought of losing him was beyond her. She couldn’t think past the next breath.
Lee still held her ankle. His fingers slid along the arch of her foot, gently massaging. She gave a tiny, contented sigh. Slipping the respirator mask on, she pushed the vapor button. Her eyes closed as she turned over carefully to avoid pulling free of his grip. Lee felt his carefully constructed façade slipping. He had to glance toward the sled to regain some emotional distance. When he looked at Kara again, she’d relaxed into a semblance of peaceful slumber, fist pillowing her cheek and mouth slightly open. He could hear her lungs straining over the respirator’s chugging pump
Biting his lip he settled her foot on the blanket and stood. He turned his back on the overwhelming desire to hold her. They were officers and his duty was clear. Their mission came first. Returning to the sled, he created two piles of supplies. One to leave and one to take with him. His dog tags jingled as he rooted around. He pulled on his tanks and unfolded the camouflage jacket. Set out binoculars and two bandoleers of ammo and filled a jacket pocket with energy bars.
There were two spare canteens. He found them both plus some field ration packs and a knife. He tucked the loot in the crook of an arm and crossed the room to retrieve his coat. After shaking the debris off of it, he returned to Kara, dropping the coat across her hips. The weighted addition startled her and she jerked upright, foiling his attempt to cover her completely. Shoving the duster back at him, she shook her head.
“You’ll need it,” she said, through the muffling mask. Angry at the effort it took to speak, she snatched the headgear off again. “And the sweater and the rest of your dry clothes. I’ll keep the blanket and heater and I’ll have the fire going. I’ll be fine.”
“You’ll keep the sweater, Lieutenant,” he said. Smiling to soften his air of command he added, “It looks good on you. I’ve got a jacket.” He pointed with one hand while pressing the palm of his other into her shoulder, urging her to lie down. “Put your mask back on,” he ordered.
“You have to go.”
“Not yet. The ice isn’t set and I…we both should eat something.”
“Man does not live by frak alone?”
Lee’s blue eyes clouded over as he shook his head. “I never should have…”
“Oh, don’t flatter yourself,” Kara interrupted, her upper lip lifting in a sardonic sneer. “You didn’t jump on me. I was the one who initiated the strenuous exercise. More of my…what did you call it…reckless disregard?”
He shook his lowered head, puffing out a laugh. “We do have the worst timing.”
“It’s a wonder we both fly so well.”
“I don’t know your secret,” he confided smugly, “But, I’ve got skills.”
She snorted and rolled her eyes and he grinned. Then, he picked up her facemask, sliding it over her mouth and nose. As he adjusted the straps behind her head he said, “You need to stay quiet while I fix some soup, try to breathe evenly. You know the drill.” Kara nodded. “And keep this on while I’m gone. At least until it starts running low on vapor.”
The respirator started puffing out medicated fumes again as Kara lay still, watching Lee prepare to leave. He worked with his habitual smooth efficiency. Before he left her side, he twisted the heat ties on three ration packets. Within minutes, steam started rising from the containers. While the food cooked Lee finished dressing. Strapping the knife to his thigh, he slipped into his jacket and stomped into boots.
He took the long rifle, his gun belt and extra ammo from the sled. After checking the rifles bolt action, he loaded it with a repeating round and placed it on the top of his growing pile of supplies. Turning his attention to the explosives pack, he drew the knife and used it to trim a few wires. He primed and linked the charges. Kara saw him crosscheck the bomb’s timer with the mission clock before placing the tangled nest of wires with the rest of his weapons.
The medicated vapor burned Kara’s throat. The drugs and deep breathing made her feel a little spacey but her chest pain had eased by the time Lee came back to her. Their dinner was ready but to her surprise he didn’t reach for the food. He pulled an edge of the blanket back and lay down behind her. She stiffened as he gathered her into his arms.
Starbuck hated post-coital cuddling. It always made her feel weepy and a little broken. And she’d made it clear to anyone who would listen on Galactica that, as far as she was concerned, a good frak ended with the bounce. Her predilection was so marked it had once prompted Sharon to spoon around her at the poker table and offer the opinion that Kara just hadn’t met the right girl.
The suggestion had silenced the table. Everyone had expected a fight. But Starbuck barely lifted her attention from her cards. Shielding her winning hand from prying eyes, she turned and planted a roguish kiss on Sharon’s lips. Then, she slapped Sharon’s behind, gave her a saucy wink and dismissed her with a ‘nice try.’ The flippancy had sent Lee into spasms of laughter. Though, the incident was more disturbing than amusing in retrospect.
“We need this, Kara,” he said, quietly. She murmured dissent. He took a second to reconsider and corrected himself. “I need it. And it won’t hurt you.”
But it did. It hurt her at the core. It reminded her of a time in her very early life when hope wasn’t something to fear. Whenever anyone held her she struggled to be free and moving, hoping to avoid flashing back to her eight year old self. At eight she’d learned to ask nothing of others. She’d learned to keep her guard up in expectation of the worst, of the inevitable blow. But when Lee held her she could almost believe in happy endings.
Despite the cold, he was warm as he curled around her, drawing her in to the center of his body. She trembled from the crawling sensation of his breath on her skin and from her own fears. She was afraid of letting him get too close. Afraid losing him would shatter her. He scooped the hair away from her neck with his thumb and pressed his mouth to the pulse point in her throat. Kara’s heartbeat started banging against her eardrums. Her survival instincts deserted her. She went limp in Lee’s arms. Instantly and unexpectedly aware of how much she needed this, needed him.
Predictably, tears pricked behind her eyelids. She had trouble keeping Lee confined to her heart. What she felt for him flowed from the deep and long-covered well at her center. He stirred a primal part of her. Kara knew the tightness in her chest had nothing to do with her possible pneumonia. Her inner child was waking from a decades’ long slumber and demanding to be fed. She wanted Lee’s reassurance, wanted him to stay with her, comfort her.
Kara’s adult mind quickly rejected the idea, labeling it an abominable weakness. Lee would be leaving and she knew how hard he would find it to go. This wasn’t the time to turn needy. If only she’d listened to him, turned her Swan around and headed out to the deep ice. Gods, she was such a screw-up. He shouldn’t be forced to complete this mission without her. She patted for his hand. Finding it, she intertwined their fingers and squeezed.
“You were right,” Lee said, close to her ear. “I should never have tanked early. If I’d been thinking clearly…maybe I wouldn’t have taken the med-kit out onto the ice. Wouldn’t have left it unsecured.”
“Lee,” she mumbled, against the respirator’s push. Appalled he was blaming himself, she let go of his hand and started to take off the mask, as she continued, “This is my fault.”
He caught her wrist to stop her from removing the headgear. “No, we’re not going to argue. I’m just telling you I know I screwed up and I won’t let you down again. You just need to hang on for me…take good care of yourself, okay?”
Kara shifted her hips, scooting sideways until she could roll to face him. Her teary eyes looked silvery in the firelight. They peered into his over the top of her respirator mask as she reached a hand up to brush her fingertips along his furrowed brow. Smiling wistfully, she nodded. Lee could barely see her lips through the vapor-fogged plastic as she mouthed, “Copy that.”
Bracing on an elbow, he caught her at the nape of her neck with one hand, pulling her forehead against his. They held the pose for a long series of heartbeats, Lee’s nose brushing plastic. Then, he lifted his head and kissed her temple, curling her closer with a fierce one-armed hug. Kara let her hands slide along his waist until she was holding him tight. They lingered in the embrace, drawing strength from each other until Lee abruptly let go. He swiveled his feet under him and stood, adjusting his clothing. Then, he went about the business of preparing their breakfast.
He didn’t touch her again, except incidentally as they ate, sitting side by side. His thigh rested along hers and their hands brushed when he passed her a serving of soup. Tilting her mask before each sip and settling it into place after each swallow, Kara drank her soup from the container. The rich broth trickled warmth into her chest and soothed her raw throat. She didn’t try to talk but her gaze often strayed to Lee as he gulped his food: soup, biscuits and two fruit-filled energy bars. All of it washed down with water from one of his two spare canteens.
He was nervous. She knew the signs. He kept compressing his lips down on unspoken thoughts and his hair had the cock’s comb disarray it got from him dragging his fingers through it. She’d always found that look endearing. When he finished eating, Lee took out his nutritional booster shot. Kara watched with some amusement as he toyed with the syringe, twirling it between his fingers. He considered it through narrowed lids as if it contained poison rather than vitamins.
Kara couldn’t help smiling. She knew what most of the crew did not. The C.A.G. hated needles. He would do almost anything to avoid a shot, including purchasing the much more expensive gel-cap prophylactics rather than taking his medicine by needle. Lee had to work himself up to his annual battery of defensive injections. It said a lot that he’d tanked so readily when her life was in jeopardy. He wasn’t about to take a shot every month so he could have sex with anyone. Not when there was an equally safe and noninvasive way to protect against STD’s and unwanted pregnancy.
She lifted her mask to say, “Boost, you’ll need it.”
“You might need it more.”
“I have one and I’m feeling better,” she said. After a moment, she lifted the mask again to say, “Tigh’s plan is idiotic. Recon, my ass. Don’t get off the bike. Don’t even slow down. Just barrel through…guns blazing.”
“That’s my plan. I’ll drop the bomb off and keep going.”
“Boom, sir." He gave her a look but she was already correcting to, "...uh, Lee. Only thing you’ll have to worry about is the charge detonating before you let go of it.”
“That and a squadron of Centurions using me for target practice.”
“Bob and weave.”
Dropping into their easy sibling rivalry pattern, he pulled a ‘there’s a brilliant suggestion’ face and sneered, “Thanks for the tip. Will you keep that frakking mask on?”
“I’m trying to conserve. Are you always this much fun after you’ve been laid?”
He cocked his head as he shrugged. “Maybe,” he admitted. “It’s hard to say. I was trained in a veil house. So, generally, I don’t get complaints.”
“Veil house,” she snorted, darting a glance at him.
By the look on her face she doubted his claim. And considering the quick service he’d been giving her Lee could see why she would. After crinkling her nose and sadly shaking her head she went back on the respirator. She gave him a limp salute as she lay down, mumbling something about some people thinking she was naive. Lee snatched his coat off her with a playful show of offended dignity and trudged back to the sled.
Tossing the coat across the bow he rummaged for a rucksack. After checking the timer on the bomb again, he tucked the explosives into the sack. He pocketed the binoculars and inserted a spare knife into his boot. The strips of ammo he draped bandoleer fashion over both shoulders. After buckling on his gun belt and holstering his sidearm, he popped the pen cap on the Boost and without hesitation plunged the needle into his leg. Nausea hit and he winced. Face averted, and puckering in distaste, he shot the oily vitamin-rich dose into his thigh muscle. Kara chuckled.
“It’s not funny,” he said through gritted teeth.
“It is,” she countered, smirking. Turning off the respirator, she shoved the mask over her head and combed fingers through her sweat-damp hair. “You look like an action hero from one of the Picon broadcast feeds…except for the needle-face.”
“Kara,” Lee sighed. He gave a hopeless shake of his head before pointedly glaring and broadly gesturing at the respirator.
“Lee,” she sighed back in perfect imitation of him. Setting the mask carefully on the top of the machine, she rolled over and pushed to her knees. She had to pause and work her way to standing. “I need to use the head, if you don’t mind. And you need to go. I promise I will take my vitamins and hop right back in bed, okay?”
He drew on his coat and then crossed to her side, hovering a little when she tottered. Plainly struggling and just as plainly eschewing his help Kara held up a warning hand, arm rigid to distance him. Sober faced she glanced up to meet his eye.
“Don’t get killed. Just get in. Get out. Get the job done.”
“Get back here,” he concluded. Smiling tightly he dipped his head to the side half-heartedly committing to this plan. “Don’t worry.”
“I’m not worried,” Kara said. “They’ll never know what hit ‘em.”
Stooping to retrieve her blanket, she adjusted it around her like a bulky ceremonial robe. Covered for the cold, she shuffled by Lee. She brushed his helping hand aside and kept walking until she could lean on the sled. Plucking a mass of soggy tissues from a pocket in her drying clothes, she grimaced over the sopping mess. But then shrugged fatalistically and headed to the cave mouth.
Just before the gathering dark swallowed her, she looked over her shoulder at Lee and said, “I just hate waiting.”
Lee lifted his chin in acknowledgement. There would be no good-bye kiss, no tearful farewell. They were soldiers and he was keeping her waiting. He should go. Slinging the strap of the rifle over his shoulder, he grabbed the rucksack handle with his free hand. The bomb bashed against his hip as he stooped to pick up the half-empty canteen. He left the other for Kara when he turned his steps toward the Swan.
************************************************************
Kara kept an eye on Lee as he made his way down the slope to the bay. She put down an urge to go after him. Dark, empty hours of waiting loomed ahead of her like an enemy, making her feel small and alone. Hating those feelings, she took herself to task. Lee had to go. She had to stay. If their positions had been reversed she wouldn’t have wanted him to make leaving any harder than it already was. There was nothing to be gained by clinging, only time to be lost.
She finished her call of nature and shuffled to the cave mouth but she didn’t duck back inside. Lee packed his bomb into the 420’s boot. After storing his rifle, he went to check the ice. Leaning against the rocky wall at the edge of light and warmth, Kara stood silent vigil until he guided the Swan out of the bay. The red and gold running lights of his bike were visible for a long time but finally vanished into the distance. As they winked out, Kara shivered. Her socks were soaked through with icy meltwater and her feet ached near the bone. She stomped around a little to make sure her feet still worked.
Returning to the cave, she peeled off the wet socks and checked her toes for frostbite. They were bright red and numb but seemed fine. Patting her clothes she found her underwear was dry enough to put on. Her tanks were dry too but she didn’t want to remove Lee’s sweater. The salt stiffened cotton of her briefs chaffed, making her glad her bra was beyond salvaging. Looking at the tatters she became acutely aware of the stinging pang between her legs. Maybe she should start referring to it as ‘burning the pipe.’
Damn, he’d wanted her. The bruising ache low in her belly had her musing on how good it had been. She hadn’t had it that hard, that intense, since…
Since the last time she’d had Lee.
He wasn’t easy to forget. Though, she’d certainly done her best to block out their first time. Her memories of that week were murky in any case. Her senses had been blunted by pain and grief and the cheerfully pink pills the base doctor had given her to help her sleep. But she vividly recalled the twinge deep inside and the slight buckle of her knees as she’d walked to the bathroom after Lee finished with her. Despite the drugs in her system, he'd stayed with her for hours after she’d driven him from the apartment.
Now, she had him again, had the sense memory of him sweet and strong. She hugged him to her as she leaned against the sled and let the pulse of the respirator lull her to sleep.
*************************************************************
A pressure alarm chimed. The cockpit seal blew and her lungs seized. She tried to take a breath, to hold the turn but she was spinning, burning and out of control. She screamed Zak’s name. Gasping for air, she started up in bed. The alarm rang again and her waking mind recognized it as her doorbell. She glanced at the bedside clock. It was well past noon.
Ignoring the chiming bell’s summons, she pulled the covers over her head. There was no one she wanted to talk to. She heard the door open and Lee calling softly, “Kara? Anyone home?”
She didn’t respond hoping he would leave. But, of course, he didn’t give up easily. He entered the sleeping alcove. Stood near the doorway for a time and then crossed to sit on the edge of the bed. His weight on the mattress pulled her toward him. She opened her eyes but didn’t speak to or look at him. He touched her, fingers cupping around the ball of her shoulder.
“Dad asked me to check on you,” he said. “He’ll be by later. Are you okay?”
Was she okay? No. She would never be okay again. She’d killed Zak. She’d put him in the ground as surely as if she’d held a gun to his head and fired. He would never hold her again. Never call her ‘his sweet girl.’
Tears spilled silently down her cheeks adding their dampness to her already soaked pillow. She didn’t have the strength or breath to sob. Lee leaned into her, cooing some meaningless platitudes. When she didn’t stop crying, he stretched out on the bed beside her and took her into his arms. He combed his fingers through her hair. Using long soothing stroked, he shushed her with her name, quietly repeating it. She would have pushed away but the warmth of his body, his build and the grey wool uniform, all of it reminded her of Zak.
She wanted to pretend, one last time, that she and Zak were going to be married and happy. She turned toward Lee, rotating in his arms to bring him closer. Her foot slid up his calf, her knee along his inner thigh. Her arms snaked around his neck. He stiffened, uncomfortable with the intimate press of her body. But it was a moment or two before he could unlock his arms from around her. His fingers finally left her back and gripped her wrists as if he meant to pry her loose. She tilted her head just a little. The slight shift brought his lips too close to resist. She skimmed her mouth along them.
The world stopped spinning. It seemed to lurch off its axis. Kara’s sleepy eyelids fluttered open. She stared into the blue flame of Lee’s equally startled gaze. There was no time to process her mistake. But she knew for sure he wasn’t Zak before he kissed her back. Holding her face, he invaded her, wrapped his tongue around hers. He shifted his hips so his weight pressed her into the yielding softness of the mattress. She felt the hard ridge of his erection already pleasuring her through layers of clothing. Her mind focused on him alone. She needed Lee.
Her fingers tore the buttons on his jacket open, exposing the hard muscle underneath to her exploration. His hands swept her hair back. She wrenched at his clothes as he kissed his way down her body, his passion building until it broke over them like a wave. Kara knew she should try to stem the tide but Lee was doing what her doctors and their pills couldn’t. He was making her feel alive again.
When he found the sweet spot on her throat she arched up, keening. He took advantage of her shift in position and pushed her nightshirt out of his way. She wrenched it over her head giving him more of her to touch. His fingers entered her, simply sliding aside the crotch of her panties for access. She heard the tell-tale pop before she felt the mint-fresh tingle of his gel-cap. He had fumbled in his pocket for the strip of protection, imagining wrongly that she’d stopped juicing for Zak.
Zak had never used the gel. Hardly anyone did once they outgrew one-night stands. The popping sound and the cool splash of liquid was the only warning Kara had before the first blinding thrust. He didn’t even remove her underwear, just worked around them. But the gel cap created its wet magic, making her slippery and easing the way for him.
Having Lee inside her created a bright sunburst of pleasure in her grey world. She clawed into his shoulders. Literally could not get close enough to him. Abandoning her grief and every civilized constraint, she’d met him thrust for thrust in an aggressive union. They held nothing back and didn’t last more than a few minutes. Both of them bounced hard and then, almost as one, remembered where they were.
*************************************************************
Lee’s trip across the ice ranked in his mind along side the Olympic Carrier’s destruction as one of the lowest points of his life. For the first two hundred miles it was all he could do not to turn around and head for the Raptor. There was a pulling sensation in his chest as if his heart was anchored back in the cave and his lifeline stretched taut. His muscles burned and his jaw ached from his constant state of clench-fisted indecisiveness. But he pushed on, pushed the Swan and himself to the limit. By the time he spotted the distant lights of the Cylon base he was almost happy to be facing imminent death.
There was nothing like enemy weapon’s fire to take your mind off your worries.
Ten miles from the target, he drew the Swan up and let the engine idle. A quick infrared scope of the Cylon base showed too much activity. There were, at least, eight Centurions on patrol. Lee wondered if they were like rats and had twice the visible number in reserve. He plotted a path through the maze of buildings. The riding would be tricky, even without gunfire. He unsnapped the guard on his holster and thumbed off his gun’s safety. Opening the Swan’s boot, he gently lifted the bomb out and checked the timer. The clock had ticked down to twelve minutes. As long as nothing went wrong, he’d have enough time to get in and get clear.
Of course, everything went wrong.
Lee turned off the Swan’s running lights and opened the throttle. He planned to come on them swift and silent like an owl in the night. But as he glided down the slope toward the Cylon base, the ice started to shatter under him with a loud cracking sound. Red eyebeams turned toward him but no shots sizzled his way. Almost too late he saw the open water. The warmth of machinery and lights had created a moat of sorts for the facility. It wasn’t a wide swath of water but that hardly mattered because it was too late for Lee to turn around. Spotting a slight rise in the ice, Lee angled for it and gunned the engine. The Swan found air.
Going airborne surprised the Cylons almost as much as it surprised Lee. Gunfire flared around him but he stayed low over the Swan as it flew, trying to make the bike as aerodynamic as possible. He splashed down. He’d fallen short. But the cutter blade caught solid ground and yanked him forward. Lee’s forehead banged into the curved swell of the 420’s chassis. A gash opened over his right eye. He almost blacked out and had to grab at the bike to keep his seat. The bomb slipped from his fingers as the Swan swerved, barely under his control.
Consigning his soul to the Gods, Lee braced for fireworks. But, amazingly, the charges didn’t ignite as the bomb bounced along in his wake. Lee looked over his shoulder at the little bundle of explosives lying on the ice. Having barely processed the fact that he was still alive, he turned forward and realized he was hurling toward certain death. He yanked the Swan into an arching turn seconds before it plowed into the concrete base of a communications tower.
The 420 responded instantly, growling through gearshifts, and Lee felt a surge of pride in the machine. He could learn to love this bike. Maybe more than his last one. The 380 was a racer’s dream, slim and maneuverable, with fine lines and a light frame. But the 420’s heavier body and powerful engine suited Lee’s post-apocalyptic personality. The 420 had a gun rack.
Hoping a spirited offensive would draw the Cylons away from his bomb Lee pulled the rifle free and started firing randomly. The blood trickling into his right eye threw off his aim but the plan, such as it was, worked perfectly. The Centurions converged on him as he’d hoped they would, leaving his dropped package where it lay. As soon as he had everyone’s attention, Lee stored his weapon, wiped the blood from his eye and kicked the Swan into motion again. He pointed the bike toward the center of the facility, zipping through a narrow valley between buildings.
Two Centurions appeared in the distance, blocking Lee’s escape route. When he saw their hands retract revealing nasty looking gun barrels Lee straightened in the saddle. He reached for his side arm, releasing the Swan’s controls and making himself the perfect target. Using his thigh muscles to balance the bike, he took aim and shot. Once. Twice. One of the Cylons fell. The other returned fire. Lee ducked and the Swan swerved, coming dangerously close to the wall on his left. Steering with one hand, Lee continuing to fire with the other. He opened up the throttle, speeding toward the remaining Cylon. They collided with a harsh grating din. The 420 bucked, cutter blade slicing into metal, and then the Swan shimmied free.
Lee nearly lost his gun but he held on and tried to focus on the next group of Cylons. The street he’d blasted into was full of them. Some of them were moving toward him on built in skis, doing his 420 one better. Lee blinked the red haze from his eye. Gritting his teeth he jammed his sidearm into its holster and slammed the Swan through a neck cracking 180 degree turn. Snow fanned out behind him as he took off down the first side trail he spotted. The ski-fitted Centurions followed him.
The path Lee had chosen weaved through, under and around a system of pipes. It took all of his concentration to stay on the bike. Lights flared all over the base. Engines cranked to life. There was the distant sound of a ship firing thrusters. A bullet whizzed by Lee’s ear. He braked hard, spraying ice and in a smooth motion, drew his rifle. One of the ski-equipped Cylons roared past him and he nailed it in the head with a single shot. Locking the emergency brake and opening the throttle, he let the bike spin in a dynamic circle as he laid down explosive rounds.
High-pressure pipes burst, hissing steam. Sirens blared. The remaining Centurions veered away but not before Lee got two more of them. They cleared his firing radius and regrouped. He ran out of ammo. They turned in perfect synchronicity, coming back at him guns blazing. Lee used the Swan for cover as he docked his empty rifle. Then, he freed the brake and took off again. There was a ship in the air. He could feel the pulse of its afterburners vibrating against his eardrums. He couldn’t deal with a ship.
A version of Sharon crossed his path. Lee loaded another clip into his sidearm and shot her down without a second thought. But he swerved to avoid hitting her. He had to get clear of the base. Time was running out and there were too many Cylons between him and the open sea. The only other choice he had was the inner island. There was a river. He and Kara had considered approaching that way. If he could find it in time, he might avoid the main blast of his bomb. He aimed the Swan north, darting down any path going in the right direction.
He almost missed the black tube the Cylons were using to cover the river. Tubing didn’t bode well but Lee was out of options. He zipped into the unknown dark switching on his headlight just in time to avoid a metal plate across his path. He tipped the Swan to its side, skimming along the ground, slicing up his coat and cracking a rib or two as he slid under the lower edge of the plating.
Once he came to rest, he took as deep a breath as he could manage, drew his weapon and fired at the enemy as they came around the plate after him. They went down, one, two and three. Lee’s ribs grated in protest as he stood. But they really roared as he righted the Swan. Ignoring the pain, he checked the bike for performance affecting damage. He found none. Straddling it with some effort, he got his balance and stomped on the pedal to accelerate.
The rest of the tubing was full of treacherous machinery. Lee guided the 420 around obstacles, chaffing at the slow rate of escape. He knew he had only seconds to spare by the time he broke into fresh air. The icy path of the river twisted into a cleft ahead. Lee followed it through a series of serpentine turns. Rock walls and hazards loomed unexpectedly. The course reminded Lee of the one for the Olympiad qualifying round. The main difference being he had qualified in broad daylight after walking the track. Darkness and the unknown made a hair-raising distinction. As he navigated the second turn, the bomb blew.
Vibrations cracked the river’s ice but there was more ice underneath. Lee rattled over the uneven surface for another hour and then turned the Swan into a small beach and cut the engine. He’d seen the ship overhead but it hadn’t seen him or hadn’t cared that it did. He seemed to have shaken any pursuit. But he was miles inland and it would take hours to find a way back to the sea. It would be morning before he could think about rescuing Kara.
He popped a couple stims and, wishing he had a mirror, took a little time to suture the cut over his eye with liquid skin. He washed away some of the blood with a capful of his precious water. Then, he thought about the course of the river. He and Kara had studied it carefully before deciding on a frontal assault. It should branch in a few more miles. He could take the tributary back to the sea, circle very wide and then aim for the Raptor.
Would the Cylons still be searching for him? Or would they be more interested in fixing what he’d destroyed or mounting an attack on the fleet? Lee wondered if anyone else had gotten their bombs planted. Unless at least one other team succeeded this would all be for nothing.
**********************************************************
Kara woke just after dawn. The fire had burned low and the heater’s batteries were waning. There was something cold and heavy on her face, trying to suffocate her. She shoved it aside. Her breathing didn’t ease. As she tried to sit, her surroundings tipped drunkenly. Skittering things seemed to move in the cave’s dense shadows. But when she stared there was nothing to be seen. Aware of her thirst first, she patted for the canteen and took a long swig. Her stomach heaved. The gag sent water up her nose and burbling out her mouth. She coughed and then kept coughing for a few minutes. The shadows shifted again.
Fearful, Kara sat the canteen aside. She visually located her weapon and scrambled for it on her hands and knees, expecting the unseen enemy to attack at any moment. After a watchful minute, when nothing happened, she climbed to her feet and returned cautiously to the sled. Her back felt exposed and she had to keep looking over her shoulder as she searched for more firebricks. There were three of the fuel logs left. She tossed two onto her dying flame and watched them blaze up, banishing the shadows. There was nothing in the cave with her but her overactive imagination. Fever was making her delusional.
Cradling her weapon, she slid to the floor. Her hands were shaking and the hairs on her arms stood on end. Knowing she must be feverish and dehydrated, she placed her gun by her side and tried taking water again, this time sipping slowly. The cool draught soothed her dry mouth and throat. She got as much as she could down before nausea hit. She wished she had something to read or a pack of cards, anything to keep her mind off the slowly passing time and the suspiciously shifting shadows.
She changed the batteries in the heater, saving the spent ones to reuse if things got desperate. Her pants were dry. Her sweater probably never would be but she turned it around and moved the heater closer just to be doing something constructive. Before putting on her pants, she took her Boost dose, hoping the antioxidants would do her immune system a favor. She didn’t think she could eat. She didn’t even have the energy to open a ration pack to find out. Basic needs dealt with she slumped back into her spot by the sled, drew the blanket around her and fell asleep.
She woke to a bright light and the sound of angel’s wings. Hot air buffeted her face. It took her a moment to realize the sled was on fire. Her poorly secured sweater had fallen on top of the heater, igniting a blaze. Panicking, she rolled away from the inferno. But she was too weak to do more than crawl to the farthest corner of the cave as the sled burned. Luckily, the cave mouth acted as a chimney. Most of the dense smoke billowed out it.
Enough lingered to send Kara into oxygen-depleted unconsciousness.
END THIS PART
There ya' go! A little something for those of you who can't read my spoiler fic, CAPTAIN'S PRIVILEGE...because like me you're not spoiled. ;-D
All the parts you might have missed to this fic...are at the following links:
BURN THE PIPE:
http://www.livejournal.com/users/rabid1st/65528.html#cutid1
SHOOT YOUR SHADE:
http://www.livejournal.com/users/rabid1st/66968.html#cutid1
PART ONE:
http://www.livejournal.com/users/rabid1st/69278.html#cutid1
PART TWO:
http://www.livejournal.com/users/rabid1st/69431.html#cutid2
PART THREE:
http://www.livejournal.com/users/rabid1st/70767.html#cutid3
Rae
By Rabid1st
BSG – K/L
RATING: NC-17, baby!
BETA BABES: Dualbunny, Birthsister and Winter_Queen82
SPOILERS: I don’t think this fic has spoilers. But there is speculation of the coupling kind based on S2: Flight of the Phoenix.
TECHNICAL RESOURCES: Wikepedia: hypothalamus and Hypothermia.org
SUMMARY:This is a ‘nugget slang’ fic and a sequel to Shoot Your Shade. Which was a sequel to Burn the Pipe. Lee shot his shade (overreacted) last time out when he learned about Anders and dumped Kara cold. Now the path to togetherness is about to be iced.
DISCLAIMER: I don’t own these characters. They belong to the SciFi Channel, R&D and Ron Moore…whose e-mail address I don’t know. So, I can’t really ask him for permission or anything. But I’m not making any money or perks off of these characters…so please don’t sue me.
PART FOUR
Lee didn’t have to look far to find fault. Karios hated him. At ten he’d overheard his mother explaining this to a group of friends. She’d laughed when she’d said it but Lee had taken the message to heart. He had, she’d noted, Athena’s blessings of good looks and a fine intellect. It was only natural to be cursed in equal measure. And as his mother had claimed he was never around when she wanted him and always around when she didn’t. Nobody could have such atrociously bad timing through genetic accident alone. Lee had obviously offended the God of Golden Opportunities somehow.
For the most part Lee didn’t care if he had. So, what if he couldn’t tell a joke without tripping over the punch line? If every time he got the Triple someone else had Full Colors? Nature had blessed him physically. He had a quick mind and raw talent. Apollo and Athena favored him. He compensated. If anything the curse made him a better pilot. He relied on honed skills and turned a cold shoulder to luck. But when it came to Kara, he really felt the sting of his handicap. Every one of his golden moments with her turned to dross.
He was up and moving before he thought about his pants. Tripping, he struggled with them, making rapid adjustments. While he hastily aligned his waistband he couldn’t help reflecting on the last time he’d made love to Kara. Frakked. Used. He might as well find the right word. There’d been very little of the lover in his mad possession. All his skill had deserted him and he’d taken what he wanted with almost no thought of pleasing her. She’d encouraged him, of course, but she’d been wounded both times, vulnerable.
Afterward on Caprica she’d treated him like a stranger. Someone she’d found in her bed the morning after a bender. Her rueful expression and inane pleasantries had cut him deeper than flat out rejection. Lee didn’t think he could deal with her isolating ways again. His world was a jigsaw puzzle now. Pieces scattered on a very small table. There’d be no escaping each other this time. They slept in the same room.
Straightening his spine, he buttoned his fly, trying not to think about her reproachful stare on his bare back. She hadn’t said a word since she’d mentioned her breathing. He’d rather have her questioning him than pretending he wasn’t there. Maybe she was finding it too hard to speak. But it was typical of her to crawl away like a wounded animal, emotionally if not literally, whenever she felt vulnerable. Decently covered, he thought suddenly of the med-kit and respirator somewhere in his sled. He should have had her on medicated vapors all along.
He was at the sled before he remembered the med-kit he sought was on the bottom of the bay. The realization sent his already unstable emotions into a tailspin. Looking out into the darkness, he recalled how he’d stupidly left the kit on the fracturing ice when he’d dived into the water. After the rescue, he’d found his bulky coat but there’d been no sign of the kit. The light, metal box must have skated around on the hyperactive ice floe until it skidded into the water.
It would be easy to blame Kairos again but Lee knew the memory lapse was a testament to the drug in his system. The tank had fogged his brain. Head tilted, he gripped the back of his neck, massaging the knots that kept forming as he slowly counted to twenty. He needed a clear head. Opening his eyes, he moved with precise care, checking and then rechecking the pockets in their damp clothing. The search confirmed what he already knew. All the antibiotics and analgesics had been stripped from individual artic gear. They had the minimum medication for emergencies. The tank was gone, that left stims, liquid skin and a nutritional booster.
Cottle had collected all of the potent pharmaceuticals on Galactica into his stores. He signed out the med-kits to each expedition, taking the drugs back into his care as soon as the mission ended. Drugs were valuable commodities in a post-Apocalyptic society and two of the three life-saving doses of Tetrazinc on this planet were now on the sea bottom, beyond Lee’s reach. The third dose was miles away in the Raptor. Thoughts jumbled, Lee braced his back to the sled. Gripping his head in both hands, he slid slowly into a defensive crouch, elbows stabbing into his knees.
More alarmed by Lee’s behavior than by her shortness of breath, Kara sat, folding the blanket around her hips.
“What’s wrong?”
“You have water in your lungs,” Lee murmured, not looking up at first.
“I got that part, Captain,” she said, wryly. “What’s wrong with you?”
A number of answers flitted through his mind in very quick succession. None of them would make the situation any better. After a pause, he lifted his chin and glanced toward her. “There’s no medicine. No med-kit.”
“Frak,” she said. Then, she frowned, rubbing a hand across her belly. “But…you tanked me…”
Looking down, she noticed her exposed and puckered nipples. The cold couldn’t be good for her. A quick visual sweep located Lee’s sweater. She pulled the wooly warmth of it over her head. As the sweater covered her face she inhaled, savoring the whiff of Lee lingering in the material. His scent was vaguely reminiscent of sun-dried cotton and statically cleaned water. Like a summer afternoon by the officer’s club pool, it was languidly inviting. Before the war, she’d imagined he wore cologne or used a specialized soap to smell so good but now she knew better. He was of only a few people in her acquaintance who smelled great straight out of the cockpit.
Ignoring her implied question, Lee jerked to his feet. He obviously didn’t want to talk to her. Kara bit back her comments and concentrated on her breathing. She could wait for him to calm down. She knew he was worried about her, probably blaming himself. He tended to personalize failure and his nerves wouldn’t take an argument right now. They’d been grated raw by tank and stress.
Lee started poking around in the sled to offset his anxiety. The last thing he wanted to do was start yelling at Kara. She was sick, in need of comfort and medicine. Jaw muscles chewing over an intense internal dialogue he worked on his issues as he searched for the respirator. He found it under the camouflage jacket that matched his dry pants. Checking the valves, he noted the attached reservoir had enough medicated fluid to dilate her bronchi for a few hours.
He did the math. The sun had set. The ice was hardening. If he left within the next thirty minutes he could make the Raptor before the respirator ran dry. Kara would only suffer for the time it took to power up and return here. But going straight to the Raptor meant aborting the mission.
The mission clock he’d brought from the Swan showed just over five hours remaining before the synchronized blasts were scheduled. They’d gone from having an abundance of time to almost no window at all. This meant he had to make a choice. To complete the mission all he had to do was cover a huge stretch of unknown ice at a steady pace of 155-mph. Then, there would be the simple matter of infiltrating a Cylon base, planting the explosives and getting clear without being seen. Once he’d successfully cleared the blast area, he’d still have to get safely back to the Raptor, probably with a squadron of Cylons on his ass. And he would definitely have to shake the Cylons before returning to this bay. Even if there were no hitches in the plan Kara could be here for a day or more without medical treatment.
As if she’d been reading his mind, Kara spoke with uncharacteristic softness. “You have to go,” she said. “We need to finish this.”
We…
There it was. His dilemma defined in one word. A serrated blade cut into Lee’s heart. He’d lost so much in the last year. Sometimes he felt like there was nothing left of him but his physical shell. There were mornings when he stared at his face in the mirror looking for someone he recognized. Yet, unlike so many in the fleet, he wasn’t alone. He had Kara, his father and a place where he belonged. His skills still had meaning and purpose. He was gradually designing a new life from the pieces of his old one, a life with Kara as the center point.
He couldn’t lose her now. Though the alternative wasn’t a choice he could live with either. If he didn’t complete their mission he’d be risking the lives of everyone in the fleet. It was one thing to simply react from his gut, to choose Kara in a split second of adrenaline-boosted decision-making. It was another to abandon his duty with forethought. Kara wouldn’t thank him, or even respect him, for forgetting he was a colonial officer. He could easily lose her that way, too.
His chin dropped to his chest. A deep breath cleared his head as he stared blindly down at their remaining supplies. His lids slowly dipped closed and the tension in his shoulders bled away. Eyes shut, one hand pinching the bridge of his nose, he sent up a silent prayer to the God of Golden Opportunity. A little luck was all he asked.
“I’m not going to leave you here to die, Kara.”
“Gods, Lee, don’t be so melodramatic,” she scoffed. “I've got a little fever and I got a little winded from the…” She arched her brows suggestively as she picked a euphemism, “Gasping? I’m not dying.”
But when she tried to laugh away his concern, her chuckle dissolved into a paroxysm of coughing. Pain hit like a flaming arrow through her chest. She pulled the blanket around her as she curled forward, holding out against the relentless hacking. Tucking the socks he was holding into a pocket and snatching the respirator Lee went to her side. He knelt to place his precious cargo by Kara’s head and then patted her shoulder. Eventually the coughing fit subsided. Kara slumped to her side and lay panting as Lee readied the respirator. She smiled wanly up at him.
When she could speak, she rasped, “I’m just going to get very, very sick.”
Lee’s brows lifted and his eyes glinted with surprise. It wasn’t like her to expose a weakness. Knowing she’d startled him with the confession, Kara winked. “That’s what we…in the rescuing business…call incentive, sir.”
Despite the weight bearing down on his chest, Lee couldn’t stop his tight-lipped grimace from widening into a grin. A nearly crippling wash of affection splashed over him, offsetting his recent bout of self-indulgent guilt.
“You always make the hero stuff look easy, Starbuck,” he said. Then, leaning closer, he lowered his voice to a confidential whisper as he added, “And you really don’t need to call me ‘sir’ right now. I think there’s some kind of post-coital clause.”
“Don’t make me laugh,” Kara chided, attempting to stifle a breathless chortle. Struggling not to cough she focused on him, reaching a hand up to rest it against his knee. “I would have gone into the water, too. To save you. Probably got us both killed.”
“Probably,” Lee agreed with a dash of his old infuriating smugness. He fished the pair of socks out of his pants pocket and offered them to her. “Hold these for a sec.” She squeezed his knee before letting go and taking the sock knot.
Lee adjusted the respirator’s headgear for her but Kara stopped him from putting the mask over her face.
“The difference between us,” she said, gently taking the headgear from him, “Is you would do the same thing for anyone.”
Lee considered this but shook his head. “No, I don’t think I would…not Baltar…”
“You ever gonna let that go?”
“I’m not sure,” he said, tugging a little on the mask, trying to get her to let go. “Why don’t you live to find out?”
“I can do that,” she said.
She handed him the socks in place of what he wanted. He took the hint and left her to adjust the mask while he went to her feet. Shoving the blanket aside he unrolled the socks and bunched them, one at a time, to slip onto her.
“I’m not sure I can do this,” he whispered, eyes on his task.
“They’re just socks, Lee.”
“Don’t,” he said, softly. He didn’t look up but his mouth drooped into a tight, humorless line.
Kara felt a pang of guilt and guilt always made her angry. She pulled her half-clad foot out of his grasp. Startled, Lee lifted his gaze to hers. A question formed on his lips. She pouted at him as her arms crossed defensively over her chest.
“It’s not life and death enough for you?” she challenged. “You want to be serious? Fine. You don’t have a choice. Suck it up.”
Molars grinding, brow furrowed Lee breathed heavily for a moment. “Not the mission, Kara,” he ground out, glaring at her. His stiff shoulders told her he thought she was being intentionally obtuse. He swept a hand back and forth between them. “This! Don’t make this like last time. It’s not.”
“Because nobody’s dead yet?” she asked venomously.
Lee’s blue eyes blazed. “Because we’ve changed. We aren’t going to pretend I’m some flyboy you dragged home from a bar.”
For a second Lee was sure she’d lash out again. She didn’t like intimacy. You had to pry her open and even then she might spit in your eye. But she liked what he was implying even less. Her mouth softened as her gaze slid away from his. Staring into the fire, she sighed a little. Lee waited for a further reaction. After a pregnant pause, Kara shifted into a more relaxed pose on the tarp and returned her foot to him, sliding it caressingly up his inner thigh.
“I don’t mean to do that,” she muttered without look at him, “Push you away. I’m just not good with…this.”
“And I am?” he asked softly, sliding her second sock into place.
“So…I know you,” she said, sharing an intimate little smile with the flickering flames. “Caprica City Champion, Fleet Champion…an Olympiad Qualifier. You’ll be back in no time. I was just slowing you down out there.”
“True,” Lee said without a trace of modesty. His cockiness coaxed an arched look from her. “But even I can’t push a Swan past 240 and live to brag about. And that’s top speed on a good, straight, empty stretch of highway. Out there in the dark…on the ice…” He held her gaze steadily as he said, “It’ll be hours before I can get your medicine.” He didn’t have to mention that they might not live that long.
Kara nodded wearily. The thought of losing him was beyond her. She couldn’t think past the next breath.
Lee still held her ankle. His fingers slid along the arch of her foot, gently massaging. She gave a tiny, contented sigh. Slipping the respirator mask on, she pushed the vapor button. Her eyes closed as she turned over carefully to avoid pulling free of his grip. Lee felt his carefully constructed façade slipping. He had to glance toward the sled to regain some emotional distance. When he looked at Kara again, she’d relaxed into a semblance of peaceful slumber, fist pillowing her cheek and mouth slightly open. He could hear her lungs straining over the respirator’s chugging pump
Biting his lip he settled her foot on the blanket and stood. He turned his back on the overwhelming desire to hold her. They were officers and his duty was clear. Their mission came first. Returning to the sled, he created two piles of supplies. One to leave and one to take with him. His dog tags jingled as he rooted around. He pulled on his tanks and unfolded the camouflage jacket. Set out binoculars and two bandoleers of ammo and filled a jacket pocket with energy bars.
There were two spare canteens. He found them both plus some field ration packs and a knife. He tucked the loot in the crook of an arm and crossed the room to retrieve his coat. After shaking the debris off of it, he returned to Kara, dropping the coat across her hips. The weighted addition startled her and she jerked upright, foiling his attempt to cover her completely. Shoving the duster back at him, she shook her head.
“You’ll need it,” she said, through the muffling mask. Angry at the effort it took to speak, she snatched the headgear off again. “And the sweater and the rest of your dry clothes. I’ll keep the blanket and heater and I’ll have the fire going. I’ll be fine.”
“You’ll keep the sweater, Lieutenant,” he said. Smiling to soften his air of command he added, “It looks good on you. I’ve got a jacket.” He pointed with one hand while pressing the palm of his other into her shoulder, urging her to lie down. “Put your mask back on,” he ordered.
“You have to go.”
“Not yet. The ice isn’t set and I…we both should eat something.”
“Man does not live by frak alone?”
Lee’s blue eyes clouded over as he shook his head. “I never should have…”
“Oh, don’t flatter yourself,” Kara interrupted, her upper lip lifting in a sardonic sneer. “You didn’t jump on me. I was the one who initiated the strenuous exercise. More of my…what did you call it…reckless disregard?”
He shook his lowered head, puffing out a laugh. “We do have the worst timing.”
“It’s a wonder we both fly so well.”
“I don’t know your secret,” he confided smugly, “But, I’ve got skills.”
She snorted and rolled her eyes and he grinned. Then, he picked up her facemask, sliding it over her mouth and nose. As he adjusted the straps behind her head he said, “You need to stay quiet while I fix some soup, try to breathe evenly. You know the drill.” Kara nodded. “And keep this on while I’m gone. At least until it starts running low on vapor.”
The respirator started puffing out medicated fumes again as Kara lay still, watching Lee prepare to leave. He worked with his habitual smooth efficiency. Before he left her side, he twisted the heat ties on three ration packets. Within minutes, steam started rising from the containers. While the food cooked Lee finished dressing. Strapping the knife to his thigh, he slipped into his jacket and stomped into boots.
He took the long rifle, his gun belt and extra ammo from the sled. After checking the rifles bolt action, he loaded it with a repeating round and placed it on the top of his growing pile of supplies. Turning his attention to the explosives pack, he drew the knife and used it to trim a few wires. He primed and linked the charges. Kara saw him crosscheck the bomb’s timer with the mission clock before placing the tangled nest of wires with the rest of his weapons.
The medicated vapor burned Kara’s throat. The drugs and deep breathing made her feel a little spacey but her chest pain had eased by the time Lee came back to her. Their dinner was ready but to her surprise he didn’t reach for the food. He pulled an edge of the blanket back and lay down behind her. She stiffened as he gathered her into his arms.
Starbuck hated post-coital cuddling. It always made her feel weepy and a little broken. And she’d made it clear to anyone who would listen on Galactica that, as far as she was concerned, a good frak ended with the bounce. Her predilection was so marked it had once prompted Sharon to spoon around her at the poker table and offer the opinion that Kara just hadn’t met the right girl.
The suggestion had silenced the table. Everyone had expected a fight. But Starbuck barely lifted her attention from her cards. Shielding her winning hand from prying eyes, she turned and planted a roguish kiss on Sharon’s lips. Then, she slapped Sharon’s behind, gave her a saucy wink and dismissed her with a ‘nice try.’ The flippancy had sent Lee into spasms of laughter. Though, the incident was more disturbing than amusing in retrospect.
“We need this, Kara,” he said, quietly. She murmured dissent. He took a second to reconsider and corrected himself. “I need it. And it won’t hurt you.”
But it did. It hurt her at the core. It reminded her of a time in her very early life when hope wasn’t something to fear. Whenever anyone held her she struggled to be free and moving, hoping to avoid flashing back to her eight year old self. At eight she’d learned to ask nothing of others. She’d learned to keep her guard up in expectation of the worst, of the inevitable blow. But when Lee held her she could almost believe in happy endings.
Despite the cold, he was warm as he curled around her, drawing her in to the center of his body. She trembled from the crawling sensation of his breath on her skin and from her own fears. She was afraid of letting him get too close. Afraid losing him would shatter her. He scooped the hair away from her neck with his thumb and pressed his mouth to the pulse point in her throat. Kara’s heartbeat started banging against her eardrums. Her survival instincts deserted her. She went limp in Lee’s arms. Instantly and unexpectedly aware of how much she needed this, needed him.
Predictably, tears pricked behind her eyelids. She had trouble keeping Lee confined to her heart. What she felt for him flowed from the deep and long-covered well at her center. He stirred a primal part of her. Kara knew the tightness in her chest had nothing to do with her possible pneumonia. Her inner child was waking from a decades’ long slumber and demanding to be fed. She wanted Lee’s reassurance, wanted him to stay with her, comfort her.
Kara’s adult mind quickly rejected the idea, labeling it an abominable weakness. Lee would be leaving and she knew how hard he would find it to go. This wasn’t the time to turn needy. If only she’d listened to him, turned her Swan around and headed out to the deep ice. Gods, she was such a screw-up. He shouldn’t be forced to complete this mission without her. She patted for his hand. Finding it, she intertwined their fingers and squeezed.
“You were right,” Lee said, close to her ear. “I should never have tanked early. If I’d been thinking clearly…maybe I wouldn’t have taken the med-kit out onto the ice. Wouldn’t have left it unsecured.”
“Lee,” she mumbled, against the respirator’s push. Appalled he was blaming himself, she let go of his hand and started to take off the mask, as she continued, “This is my fault.”
He caught her wrist to stop her from removing the headgear. “No, we’re not going to argue. I’m just telling you I know I screwed up and I won’t let you down again. You just need to hang on for me…take good care of yourself, okay?”
Kara shifted her hips, scooting sideways until she could roll to face him. Her teary eyes looked silvery in the firelight. They peered into his over the top of her respirator mask as she reached a hand up to brush her fingertips along his furrowed brow. Smiling wistfully, she nodded. Lee could barely see her lips through the vapor-fogged plastic as she mouthed, “Copy that.”
Bracing on an elbow, he caught her at the nape of her neck with one hand, pulling her forehead against his. They held the pose for a long series of heartbeats, Lee’s nose brushing plastic. Then, he lifted his head and kissed her temple, curling her closer with a fierce one-armed hug. Kara let her hands slide along his waist until she was holding him tight. They lingered in the embrace, drawing strength from each other until Lee abruptly let go. He swiveled his feet under him and stood, adjusting his clothing. Then, he went about the business of preparing their breakfast.
He didn’t touch her again, except incidentally as they ate, sitting side by side. His thigh rested along hers and their hands brushed when he passed her a serving of soup. Tilting her mask before each sip and settling it into place after each swallow, Kara drank her soup from the container. The rich broth trickled warmth into her chest and soothed her raw throat. She didn’t try to talk but her gaze often strayed to Lee as he gulped his food: soup, biscuits and two fruit-filled energy bars. All of it washed down with water from one of his two spare canteens.
He was nervous. She knew the signs. He kept compressing his lips down on unspoken thoughts and his hair had the cock’s comb disarray it got from him dragging his fingers through it. She’d always found that look endearing. When he finished eating, Lee took out his nutritional booster shot. Kara watched with some amusement as he toyed with the syringe, twirling it between his fingers. He considered it through narrowed lids as if it contained poison rather than vitamins.
Kara couldn’t help smiling. She knew what most of the crew did not. The C.A.G. hated needles. He would do almost anything to avoid a shot, including purchasing the much more expensive gel-cap prophylactics rather than taking his medicine by needle. Lee had to work himself up to his annual battery of defensive injections. It said a lot that he’d tanked so readily when her life was in jeopardy. He wasn’t about to take a shot every month so he could have sex with anyone. Not when there was an equally safe and noninvasive way to protect against STD’s and unwanted pregnancy.
She lifted her mask to say, “Boost, you’ll need it.”
“You might need it more.”
“I have one and I’m feeling better,” she said. After a moment, she lifted the mask again to say, “Tigh’s plan is idiotic. Recon, my ass. Don’t get off the bike. Don’t even slow down. Just barrel through…guns blazing.”
“That’s my plan. I’ll drop the bomb off and keep going.”
“Boom, sir." He gave her a look but she was already correcting to, "...uh, Lee. Only thing you’ll have to worry about is the charge detonating before you let go of it.”
“That and a squadron of Centurions using me for target practice.”
“Bob and weave.”
Dropping into their easy sibling rivalry pattern, he pulled a ‘there’s a brilliant suggestion’ face and sneered, “Thanks for the tip. Will you keep that frakking mask on?”
“I’m trying to conserve. Are you always this much fun after you’ve been laid?”
He cocked his head as he shrugged. “Maybe,” he admitted. “It’s hard to say. I was trained in a veil house. So, generally, I don’t get complaints.”
“Veil house,” she snorted, darting a glance at him.
By the look on her face she doubted his claim. And considering the quick service he’d been giving her Lee could see why she would. After crinkling her nose and sadly shaking her head she went back on the respirator. She gave him a limp salute as she lay down, mumbling something about some people thinking she was naive. Lee snatched his coat off her with a playful show of offended dignity and trudged back to the sled.
Tossing the coat across the bow he rummaged for a rucksack. After checking the timer on the bomb again, he tucked the explosives into the sack. He pocketed the binoculars and inserted a spare knife into his boot. The strips of ammo he draped bandoleer fashion over both shoulders. After buckling on his gun belt and holstering his sidearm, he popped the pen cap on the Boost and without hesitation plunged the needle into his leg. Nausea hit and he winced. Face averted, and puckering in distaste, he shot the oily vitamin-rich dose into his thigh muscle. Kara chuckled.
“It’s not funny,” he said through gritted teeth.
“It is,” she countered, smirking. Turning off the respirator, she shoved the mask over her head and combed fingers through her sweat-damp hair. “You look like an action hero from one of the Picon broadcast feeds…except for the needle-face.”
“Kara,” Lee sighed. He gave a hopeless shake of his head before pointedly glaring and broadly gesturing at the respirator.
“Lee,” she sighed back in perfect imitation of him. Setting the mask carefully on the top of the machine, she rolled over and pushed to her knees. She had to pause and work her way to standing. “I need to use the head, if you don’t mind. And you need to go. I promise I will take my vitamins and hop right back in bed, okay?”
He drew on his coat and then crossed to her side, hovering a little when she tottered. Plainly struggling and just as plainly eschewing his help Kara held up a warning hand, arm rigid to distance him. Sober faced she glanced up to meet his eye.
“Don’t get killed. Just get in. Get out. Get the job done.”
“Get back here,” he concluded. Smiling tightly he dipped his head to the side half-heartedly committing to this plan. “Don’t worry.”
“I’m not worried,” Kara said. “They’ll never know what hit ‘em.”
Stooping to retrieve her blanket, she adjusted it around her like a bulky ceremonial robe. Covered for the cold, she shuffled by Lee. She brushed his helping hand aside and kept walking until she could lean on the sled. Plucking a mass of soggy tissues from a pocket in her drying clothes, she grimaced over the sopping mess. But then shrugged fatalistically and headed to the cave mouth.
Just before the gathering dark swallowed her, she looked over her shoulder at Lee and said, “I just hate waiting.”
Lee lifted his chin in acknowledgement. There would be no good-bye kiss, no tearful farewell. They were soldiers and he was keeping her waiting. He should go. Slinging the strap of the rifle over his shoulder, he grabbed the rucksack handle with his free hand. The bomb bashed against his hip as he stooped to pick up the half-empty canteen. He left the other for Kara when he turned his steps toward the Swan.
************************************************************
Kara kept an eye on Lee as he made his way down the slope to the bay. She put down an urge to go after him. Dark, empty hours of waiting loomed ahead of her like an enemy, making her feel small and alone. Hating those feelings, she took herself to task. Lee had to go. She had to stay. If their positions had been reversed she wouldn’t have wanted him to make leaving any harder than it already was. There was nothing to be gained by clinging, only time to be lost.
She finished her call of nature and shuffled to the cave mouth but she didn’t duck back inside. Lee packed his bomb into the 420’s boot. After storing his rifle, he went to check the ice. Leaning against the rocky wall at the edge of light and warmth, Kara stood silent vigil until he guided the Swan out of the bay. The red and gold running lights of his bike were visible for a long time but finally vanished into the distance. As they winked out, Kara shivered. Her socks were soaked through with icy meltwater and her feet ached near the bone. She stomped around a little to make sure her feet still worked.
Returning to the cave, she peeled off the wet socks and checked her toes for frostbite. They were bright red and numb but seemed fine. Patting her clothes she found her underwear was dry enough to put on. Her tanks were dry too but she didn’t want to remove Lee’s sweater. The salt stiffened cotton of her briefs chaffed, making her glad her bra was beyond salvaging. Looking at the tatters she became acutely aware of the stinging pang between her legs. Maybe she should start referring to it as ‘burning the pipe.’
Damn, he’d wanted her. The bruising ache low in her belly had her musing on how good it had been. She hadn’t had it that hard, that intense, since…
Since the last time she’d had Lee.
He wasn’t easy to forget. Though, she’d certainly done her best to block out their first time. Her memories of that week were murky in any case. Her senses had been blunted by pain and grief and the cheerfully pink pills the base doctor had given her to help her sleep. But she vividly recalled the twinge deep inside and the slight buckle of her knees as she’d walked to the bathroom after Lee finished with her. Despite the drugs in her system, he'd stayed with her for hours after she’d driven him from the apartment.
Now, she had him again, had the sense memory of him sweet and strong. She hugged him to her as she leaned against the sled and let the pulse of the respirator lull her to sleep.
*************************************************************
A pressure alarm chimed. The cockpit seal blew and her lungs seized. She tried to take a breath, to hold the turn but she was spinning, burning and out of control. She screamed Zak’s name. Gasping for air, she started up in bed. The alarm rang again and her waking mind recognized it as her doorbell. She glanced at the bedside clock. It was well past noon.
Ignoring the chiming bell’s summons, she pulled the covers over her head. There was no one she wanted to talk to. She heard the door open and Lee calling softly, “Kara? Anyone home?”
She didn’t respond hoping he would leave. But, of course, he didn’t give up easily. He entered the sleeping alcove. Stood near the doorway for a time and then crossed to sit on the edge of the bed. His weight on the mattress pulled her toward him. She opened her eyes but didn’t speak to or look at him. He touched her, fingers cupping around the ball of her shoulder.
“Dad asked me to check on you,” he said. “He’ll be by later. Are you okay?”
Was she okay? No. She would never be okay again. She’d killed Zak. She’d put him in the ground as surely as if she’d held a gun to his head and fired. He would never hold her again. Never call her ‘his sweet girl.’
Tears spilled silently down her cheeks adding their dampness to her already soaked pillow. She didn’t have the strength or breath to sob. Lee leaned into her, cooing some meaningless platitudes. When she didn’t stop crying, he stretched out on the bed beside her and took her into his arms. He combed his fingers through her hair. Using long soothing stroked, he shushed her with her name, quietly repeating it. She would have pushed away but the warmth of his body, his build and the grey wool uniform, all of it reminded her of Zak.
She wanted to pretend, one last time, that she and Zak were going to be married and happy. She turned toward Lee, rotating in his arms to bring him closer. Her foot slid up his calf, her knee along his inner thigh. Her arms snaked around his neck. He stiffened, uncomfortable with the intimate press of her body. But it was a moment or two before he could unlock his arms from around her. His fingers finally left her back and gripped her wrists as if he meant to pry her loose. She tilted her head just a little. The slight shift brought his lips too close to resist. She skimmed her mouth along them.
The world stopped spinning. It seemed to lurch off its axis. Kara’s sleepy eyelids fluttered open. She stared into the blue flame of Lee’s equally startled gaze. There was no time to process her mistake. But she knew for sure he wasn’t Zak before he kissed her back. Holding her face, he invaded her, wrapped his tongue around hers. He shifted his hips so his weight pressed her into the yielding softness of the mattress. She felt the hard ridge of his erection already pleasuring her through layers of clothing. Her mind focused on him alone. She needed Lee.
Her fingers tore the buttons on his jacket open, exposing the hard muscle underneath to her exploration. His hands swept her hair back. She wrenched at his clothes as he kissed his way down her body, his passion building until it broke over them like a wave. Kara knew she should try to stem the tide but Lee was doing what her doctors and their pills couldn’t. He was making her feel alive again.
When he found the sweet spot on her throat she arched up, keening. He took advantage of her shift in position and pushed her nightshirt out of his way. She wrenched it over her head giving him more of her to touch. His fingers entered her, simply sliding aside the crotch of her panties for access. She heard the tell-tale pop before she felt the mint-fresh tingle of his gel-cap. He had fumbled in his pocket for the strip of protection, imagining wrongly that she’d stopped juicing for Zak.
Zak had never used the gel. Hardly anyone did once they outgrew one-night stands. The popping sound and the cool splash of liquid was the only warning Kara had before the first blinding thrust. He didn’t even remove her underwear, just worked around them. But the gel cap created its wet magic, making her slippery and easing the way for him.
Having Lee inside her created a bright sunburst of pleasure in her grey world. She clawed into his shoulders. Literally could not get close enough to him. Abandoning her grief and every civilized constraint, she’d met him thrust for thrust in an aggressive union. They held nothing back and didn’t last more than a few minutes. Both of them bounced hard and then, almost as one, remembered where they were.
*************************************************************
Lee’s trip across the ice ranked in his mind along side the Olympic Carrier’s destruction as one of the lowest points of his life. For the first two hundred miles it was all he could do not to turn around and head for the Raptor. There was a pulling sensation in his chest as if his heart was anchored back in the cave and his lifeline stretched taut. His muscles burned and his jaw ached from his constant state of clench-fisted indecisiveness. But he pushed on, pushed the Swan and himself to the limit. By the time he spotted the distant lights of the Cylon base he was almost happy to be facing imminent death.
There was nothing like enemy weapon’s fire to take your mind off your worries.
Ten miles from the target, he drew the Swan up and let the engine idle. A quick infrared scope of the Cylon base showed too much activity. There were, at least, eight Centurions on patrol. Lee wondered if they were like rats and had twice the visible number in reserve. He plotted a path through the maze of buildings. The riding would be tricky, even without gunfire. He unsnapped the guard on his holster and thumbed off his gun’s safety. Opening the Swan’s boot, he gently lifted the bomb out and checked the timer. The clock had ticked down to twelve minutes. As long as nothing went wrong, he’d have enough time to get in and get clear.
Of course, everything went wrong.
Lee turned off the Swan’s running lights and opened the throttle. He planned to come on them swift and silent like an owl in the night. But as he glided down the slope toward the Cylon base, the ice started to shatter under him with a loud cracking sound. Red eyebeams turned toward him but no shots sizzled his way. Almost too late he saw the open water. The warmth of machinery and lights had created a moat of sorts for the facility. It wasn’t a wide swath of water but that hardly mattered because it was too late for Lee to turn around. Spotting a slight rise in the ice, Lee angled for it and gunned the engine. The Swan found air.
Going airborne surprised the Cylons almost as much as it surprised Lee. Gunfire flared around him but he stayed low over the Swan as it flew, trying to make the bike as aerodynamic as possible. He splashed down. He’d fallen short. But the cutter blade caught solid ground and yanked him forward. Lee’s forehead banged into the curved swell of the 420’s chassis. A gash opened over his right eye. He almost blacked out and had to grab at the bike to keep his seat. The bomb slipped from his fingers as the Swan swerved, barely under his control.
Consigning his soul to the Gods, Lee braced for fireworks. But, amazingly, the charges didn’t ignite as the bomb bounced along in his wake. Lee looked over his shoulder at the little bundle of explosives lying on the ice. Having barely processed the fact that he was still alive, he turned forward and realized he was hurling toward certain death. He yanked the Swan into an arching turn seconds before it plowed into the concrete base of a communications tower.
The 420 responded instantly, growling through gearshifts, and Lee felt a surge of pride in the machine. He could learn to love this bike. Maybe more than his last one. The 380 was a racer’s dream, slim and maneuverable, with fine lines and a light frame. But the 420’s heavier body and powerful engine suited Lee’s post-apocalyptic personality. The 420 had a gun rack.
Hoping a spirited offensive would draw the Cylons away from his bomb Lee pulled the rifle free and started firing randomly. The blood trickling into his right eye threw off his aim but the plan, such as it was, worked perfectly. The Centurions converged on him as he’d hoped they would, leaving his dropped package where it lay. As soon as he had everyone’s attention, Lee stored his weapon, wiped the blood from his eye and kicked the Swan into motion again. He pointed the bike toward the center of the facility, zipping through a narrow valley between buildings.
Two Centurions appeared in the distance, blocking Lee’s escape route. When he saw their hands retract revealing nasty looking gun barrels Lee straightened in the saddle. He reached for his side arm, releasing the Swan’s controls and making himself the perfect target. Using his thigh muscles to balance the bike, he took aim and shot. Once. Twice. One of the Cylons fell. The other returned fire. Lee ducked and the Swan swerved, coming dangerously close to the wall on his left. Steering with one hand, Lee continuing to fire with the other. He opened up the throttle, speeding toward the remaining Cylon. They collided with a harsh grating din. The 420 bucked, cutter blade slicing into metal, and then the Swan shimmied free.
Lee nearly lost his gun but he held on and tried to focus on the next group of Cylons. The street he’d blasted into was full of them. Some of them were moving toward him on built in skis, doing his 420 one better. Lee blinked the red haze from his eye. Gritting his teeth he jammed his sidearm into its holster and slammed the Swan through a neck cracking 180 degree turn. Snow fanned out behind him as he took off down the first side trail he spotted. The ski-fitted Centurions followed him.
The path Lee had chosen weaved through, under and around a system of pipes. It took all of his concentration to stay on the bike. Lights flared all over the base. Engines cranked to life. There was the distant sound of a ship firing thrusters. A bullet whizzed by Lee’s ear. He braked hard, spraying ice and in a smooth motion, drew his rifle. One of the ski-equipped Cylons roared past him and he nailed it in the head with a single shot. Locking the emergency brake and opening the throttle, he let the bike spin in a dynamic circle as he laid down explosive rounds.
High-pressure pipes burst, hissing steam. Sirens blared. The remaining Centurions veered away but not before Lee got two more of them. They cleared his firing radius and regrouped. He ran out of ammo. They turned in perfect synchronicity, coming back at him guns blazing. Lee used the Swan for cover as he docked his empty rifle. Then, he freed the brake and took off again. There was a ship in the air. He could feel the pulse of its afterburners vibrating against his eardrums. He couldn’t deal with a ship.
A version of Sharon crossed his path. Lee loaded another clip into his sidearm and shot her down without a second thought. But he swerved to avoid hitting her. He had to get clear of the base. Time was running out and there were too many Cylons between him and the open sea. The only other choice he had was the inner island. There was a river. He and Kara had considered approaching that way. If he could find it in time, he might avoid the main blast of his bomb. He aimed the Swan north, darting down any path going in the right direction.
He almost missed the black tube the Cylons were using to cover the river. Tubing didn’t bode well but Lee was out of options. He zipped into the unknown dark switching on his headlight just in time to avoid a metal plate across his path. He tipped the Swan to its side, skimming along the ground, slicing up his coat and cracking a rib or two as he slid under the lower edge of the plating.
Once he came to rest, he took as deep a breath as he could manage, drew his weapon and fired at the enemy as they came around the plate after him. They went down, one, two and three. Lee’s ribs grated in protest as he stood. But they really roared as he righted the Swan. Ignoring the pain, he checked the bike for performance affecting damage. He found none. Straddling it with some effort, he got his balance and stomped on the pedal to accelerate.
The rest of the tubing was full of treacherous machinery. Lee guided the 420 around obstacles, chaffing at the slow rate of escape. He knew he had only seconds to spare by the time he broke into fresh air. The icy path of the river twisted into a cleft ahead. Lee followed it through a series of serpentine turns. Rock walls and hazards loomed unexpectedly. The course reminded Lee of the one for the Olympiad qualifying round. The main difference being he had qualified in broad daylight after walking the track. Darkness and the unknown made a hair-raising distinction. As he navigated the second turn, the bomb blew.
Vibrations cracked the river’s ice but there was more ice underneath. Lee rattled over the uneven surface for another hour and then turned the Swan into a small beach and cut the engine. He’d seen the ship overhead but it hadn’t seen him or hadn’t cared that it did. He seemed to have shaken any pursuit. But he was miles inland and it would take hours to find a way back to the sea. It would be morning before he could think about rescuing Kara.
He popped a couple stims and, wishing he had a mirror, took a little time to suture the cut over his eye with liquid skin. He washed away some of the blood with a capful of his precious water. Then, he thought about the course of the river. He and Kara had studied it carefully before deciding on a frontal assault. It should branch in a few more miles. He could take the tributary back to the sea, circle very wide and then aim for the Raptor.
Would the Cylons still be searching for him? Or would they be more interested in fixing what he’d destroyed or mounting an attack on the fleet? Lee wondered if anyone else had gotten their bombs planted. Unless at least one other team succeeded this would all be for nothing.
**********************************************************
Kara woke just after dawn. The fire had burned low and the heater’s batteries were waning. There was something cold and heavy on her face, trying to suffocate her. She shoved it aside. Her breathing didn’t ease. As she tried to sit, her surroundings tipped drunkenly. Skittering things seemed to move in the cave’s dense shadows. But when she stared there was nothing to be seen. Aware of her thirst first, she patted for the canteen and took a long swig. Her stomach heaved. The gag sent water up her nose and burbling out her mouth. She coughed and then kept coughing for a few minutes. The shadows shifted again.
Fearful, Kara sat the canteen aside. She visually located her weapon and scrambled for it on her hands and knees, expecting the unseen enemy to attack at any moment. After a watchful minute, when nothing happened, she climbed to her feet and returned cautiously to the sled. Her back felt exposed and she had to keep looking over her shoulder as she searched for more firebricks. There were three of the fuel logs left. She tossed two onto her dying flame and watched them blaze up, banishing the shadows. There was nothing in the cave with her but her overactive imagination. Fever was making her delusional.
Cradling her weapon, she slid to the floor. Her hands were shaking and the hairs on her arms stood on end. Knowing she must be feverish and dehydrated, she placed her gun by her side and tried taking water again, this time sipping slowly. The cool draught soothed her dry mouth and throat. She got as much as she could down before nausea hit. She wished she had something to read or a pack of cards, anything to keep her mind off the slowly passing time and the suspiciously shifting shadows.
She changed the batteries in the heater, saving the spent ones to reuse if things got desperate. Her pants were dry. Her sweater probably never would be but she turned it around and moved the heater closer just to be doing something constructive. Before putting on her pants, she took her Boost dose, hoping the antioxidants would do her immune system a favor. She didn’t think she could eat. She didn’t even have the energy to open a ration pack to find out. Basic needs dealt with she slumped back into her spot by the sled, drew the blanket around her and fell asleep.
She woke to a bright light and the sound of angel’s wings. Hot air buffeted her face. It took her a moment to realize the sled was on fire. Her poorly secured sweater had fallen on top of the heater, igniting a blaze. Panicking, she rolled away from the inferno. But she was too weak to do more than crawl to the farthest corner of the cave as the sled burned. Luckily, the cave mouth acted as a chimney. Most of the dense smoke billowed out it.
Enough lingered to send Kara into oxygen-depleted unconsciousness.
END THIS PART
There ya' go! A little something for those of you who can't read my spoiler fic, CAPTAIN'S PRIVILEGE...because like me you're not spoiled. ;-D
All the parts you might have missed to this fic...are at the following links:
BURN THE PIPE:
http://www.livejournal.com/users/rabid1st/65528.html#cutid1
SHOOT YOUR SHADE:
http://www.livejournal.com/users/rabid1st/66968.html#cutid1
PART ONE:
http://www.livejournal.com/users/rabid1st/69278.html#cutid1
PART TWO:
http://www.livejournal.com/users/rabid1st/69431.html#cutid2
PART THREE:
http://www.livejournal.com/users/rabid1st/70767.html#cutid3
Rae
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Date: 2005-12-06 05:47 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2005-12-06 07:07 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2005-12-06 07:23 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2005-12-06 02:44 pm (UTC)LOL *GLEE*
you rock.
okay...is "GLEE"
Date: 2005-12-06 02:55 pm (UTC):snicker:
Glad you liked the chapter. Lee kind of rocks in it. One of my beta babes said she saw him in the air with his duster open and flappin' behind him...all Action Hero Style.
I was like...oh, cool!
Thank you for the pithy feedback.
Rae
Re: okay...is "GLEE"
Date: 2005-12-06 03:05 pm (UTC)you write ExtrodinariLEE wELL. /grins
oh and im all for the Lwan as well...HOT HOT HOT image that.
Lyms
Glad you enjoyed it, Helena
Date: 2005-12-07 12:14 am (UTC)Okay, seriously...I am a fan of the action sequence. To me the love scene is just an action scene with softer corners. Basically, I like to write sassy fic that has lots of things going on...like an episode of your favorite tv show. Hope you enjoy the ending.
Thank you for always taking the time to feedback...you are one of my favorite readers. I should get some "favorite reader" badges made up...
Nah, we don't need no stinkin' badges!
Rae
You want all of it to be canon?
Date: 2005-12-07 12:20 am (UTC):Rabid waves her magic make-it-canon wand:
And it is done. ;-D
I do have hopes that we will have on show flashback. It would make sense since we know Kara, Lee and Zak hung out together. We could meet Lee's girlfriend. <<--I assume he had some kind of Mother Approved fashionista on his arm back then.
Kara...as I pointed out to my beta babe the other day...is his "agapeta"...so more the one he was going to have an affair with rather than take home to meet the parents. Now, there's an interesting scene: Kara meets the girlfriend. ;-D Not in this fic cycle though...because I just can't squeeze her in.
Anyway...thanks for stirring up the debate over my fic. It makes planning all my evil deeds worthwhile. BWAHAHAHA!
Rae
More on the way...
Date: 2005-12-07 12:31 am (UTC)Rae
thanking you for giving me some BIG WIDE GRIN feedback :D
Re: You want all of it to be canon?
Date: 2005-12-07 04:35 am (UTC)Excellent. Now if Eick and Moore could get the memo that'd be great.
Although to be completely honest the reason why I enjoy this series so much is because they aren't just thrown together. You explore their history to find their feature. I don't think that Lee and Kara could truly be canon on the show without facing some unspoken things that Jamie and Katee are so good at playing up. Anyway, the point of this is to say cheers and hope to see more soon.
(no subject)
Date: 2005-12-07 05:04 am (UTC)You don't say much, State...
Date: 2005-12-07 05:11 am (UTC)Thank you for the lovely feedback.
Rae
(no subject)
Date: 2005-12-07 10:58 am (UTC)Don't worry, DB, the end is nigh
Date: 2005-12-07 11:18 am (UTC):Rabid shakes head again:
;-D
Glad you liked the changes. Thanks for catching the things you caught and validating a few other things for me. I am working on sparing your heart any more sharp turns. But there will be, at least, one more blow for Lee...because really Kara is suffering a lot...what are a few cracked ribs and a head wound when you compare it to inhalation pneumonia, hypothermia, smoke inhalation...etc.?
But...hopefully...no more cliffhangers. ;-D
Rae
(no subject)
Date: 2005-12-09 02:54 am (UTC)Ah...you made it to the current end...
Date: 2005-12-09 01:12 pm (UTC);-D
I am glad you are enjoying the fic so much. Thank you for the very supportive and continuing feedback. It makes me very happy. ;-D
Rae
who sees no reason not to invent stuff for BSG...they can use my Swan idea anytime they want to put Lee in lots of skin-tight leather.
Re: Ah...you made it to the current end...
Date: 2005-12-09 05:53 pm (UTC)