rabid1st | NEW FIC: MINOTAUR 5, K/L, R, to Scar Promo S2.5

MINOTAUR
By Rabid1st
BSG – K/L with some K/A and L/D at the start
Spoilers: To Scar Promo S2.5
Rating: R
Beta Babes: Winter_Queen82, Lilith, Devilbunny, Jei
Summary: Kara loves Lee. She also loves Sam Anders. Her men are on a fiery collision course. Talk about a dilemma.
Warning: Character Death
Warning 2: OMG! NO!! Please tell me you did NOT!!
Disclaimer: This is no place for a silly disclaimer. Ron, David, SciFi, Twentieth Century Fox I humbly ask your permission to lay waste to your fat and unhappy BSG characters. I will make no money in the process.

PREVIOUS PARTS

PART ONE

http://rabid1st.livejournal.com/74418.html#cutid1

PART TWO

http://rabid1st.livejournal.com/76225.html#cutid1

PART THREE

http://rabid1st.livejournal.com/77081.html#cutid1

PART FOUR

http://rabid1st.livejournal.com/77609.html#cutid1

PART FIVE

Love was a straightjacket. A madman’s overcoat. The need to please. The pain. Love was punishment. Suffering. A trap. A mire. You fell into it, stumbled in blindly, and then you couldn’t get out again. It had happened to her mother and father, Zak, Helo and the Chief, Ellen and Saul Tigh and the Old Man. The list went on and on…

Damn Lee. Damn his need to control everything…to control her. She wasn’t his and she never would be. He didn’t even want her. Damn him.

Kara let her ire build. Let it pound her feet into the metal floor as she marched away from the man she loved more than even seemed possible. She kept her head up and her spine stiff until she’d rounded the bend in the corridor. Once she was out of his sight, she relaxed a little. Ahead, she saw Sam and his two-man Marine guard, briskly opening distance on her. She slowed her pace. She didn’t want to catch up to them. Sam would start asking questions. He would want to talk about Lee and Kara couldn’t talk about Lee without slipping. Already, the yearning for him was building in her chest. The need to go back to him, apologize and say she would do better next time was sweeping over her with the virulence of a plague.

She hated being his. Hated feeling her knees quiver, the way they always did when she walked away from him. Hated most of all, knowing no matter how far she walked, no matter where she went, the Fates would lead him to her. You couldn’t escape your Fate you could only postpone it. Lee would find her and coax her into his snare again. Unless she threw up enough walls to discourage him.

Years of practice had honed her skills. She’d always covered her weakness for Lee, made him think he meant little to her. She used bravado, sharp-tongued comments and shoving. But sometimes her chest ached from the strain of keeping Lee Adama at arm’s length. Some days, all she wanted to do was stop being Starbuck. She could snuggle into his arms, bury her nose in the curve of his neck and breathe in the seaside sweetness of him.

The humid, slightly salty scent still lingered on her skin. It always did when he jerked her around. She would get a whiff of it and want to taste him. She couldn’t escape him. He was inside her now. He was on her fingers, too, from when she’d gripped his arm. She raised them to her lips. Gods, he was like the last perfectly ripe peach in the universe, irresistible. Her tongue longed to savor him again. What madness had persuaded her to take that first bite, knowing she would never take another?

Kara knew Lee was suffering, too. But sensing his desire didn’t help her feel any better. If anything it increased her hunger pangs. She could have him. She knew it in her bones. Despite everything that had happened: Sam, Dee and all the bitter words, Kara knew could have Lee this instant if she would only turn around and go back to him. She could stride by, yanking on his arm and he would follow her into any of the supply closets lining this corridor. She could press her body along his, whisper some passionate words and the icy barricade he’d built around his heart would melt.

Only a quick flash of her father’s face stopped her from doing just that. Whenever she seriously considered making a life with Lee, razor-edged memories knifed into her gut. She got bombarded by flashbacks of her childhood, of Zak’s death. A therapist had once called this hyper-reacting PTSD, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder. Her arms wrapped across her chest as she hunched a little, trying to avoid the remembered pain.

She told herself the reminder wasn’t necessary. She didn’t need to be prodded away from Lee like some errant steer. The echo of agony was enough to keep her moving toward Sam Anders. She loved Sam. Despite what Lee or her parents might say, love could feel good. The love she’d eventually developed with Zak had been nurturing. But the happy glow she had with Zak bore no resemblance at all to what she endured with Lee.

Love wasn’t even the right word for the Lee-feeling. Ardor was a better word. Her parents had developed a similar bond with one another. They called it love. They told her about it every day of her young life. But love like theirs was a slow poison. Divine destiny wasn’t beautiful. It was a waking nightmare. And the Fates only saved people in the scriptures. In real life, fated passion paved the way to Tartarus more certainly than good intentions and Kara had no intention of following in her parents’ footsteps.

Fighting off the still vibrant emotions from her past, she stumbled into the wall, bracing her hand against the cool metal as her conflicted feelings churned up memories of her childhood. She returned to a scene from her early life, when she was five or seven. Creeping out of hiding after her mother stormed out, she'd climbed up onto the bed next to her father and leaned close to gravely study the bloom of flesh around his burgeoning black eye. He’d opened his arms for her. As she snuggled closer, he’d grinned, wincing just a little when his cut lip tugged painfully. He’d looked happy, as if nothing was wrong, as he’d tousled her hair.

She knew he was hurting, not just where he’d been hit but in his heart like her. But they couldn’t talk about the bad things. No whining. It was an unwritten rule in their house. They could joke and laugh. They could tease one another. But they couldn’t mention their pain or the scary things they thought about doing to escape it. They couldn’t ask for help either. Heartache was a member of the family.

Kara had taken enough blows from her mother’s hand to know she hit her father twice as hard. They hit each other sometimes. The crack of flesh and bone and the coppery smell of newly spilled blood always intermingled with the cloying scent of ambrosia on her mother’s breath or the alien stink of perfume on her father’s skin. Later there would be the briny tang of sex and sweat to drive away the other odors in their shabby, government subsidized apartment.

But nothing stayed sweet for long. The cycle of events was relentless, like the tides.

Lacing her fingers into her fathers, Kara whispered her secret plans for them. She did this every time they were left alone in the aftermath of a fight. “We can run away. I’ve got some money," she would say, digging in her pocket for a few sticky coins and grubby bills. "We can go to live by the ocean. Or to Delphi.”

Her father would listen for a while but eventually he would sigh and say, “I can’t, Kara. I wish I could but…I can’t leave her.”

“Why?”

“You know why, sweetie. I love her…she’s everything to me. I just…love her.”

“You love her more than me,” Kara would say, plaintively, making her father turn his head away in shame. Her heart would harden then because she knew deep in her soul she would never win this argument. They kept having it over and over again. Her whole young life was like a tug of war.

“I love you both,” her father would say.

“It’s not love. Love makes the world a better place, a happy place.” With her brow furrowed and her mouth pursed, she would sounded frighteningly like her mother. Seeing the stricken lines in her father’s profile, she always softened her tone. She didn’t like hurting him. She didn’t want to be that kind of person. Tracing a fingertip along his cheek, she would whisper, “Maybe you could find someone else. Someone who only makes you happy.”

“I’m sorry, honey,” he would murmur, taking her hand in his so he could kiss her small palm. “I really am. I know she hurts you, too. And all of it, all of it is my fault. I know you don’t understand…” He would sigh and turn his face toward her to stare grimly into her eyes. “Love doesn’t make you happy. Love like this…you can’t shake it. Maybe if I’d known…at the start…maybe then… The first time I saw your mother…she looked at me and the world stopped spinning.”

Kara always nodded solemnly but the fear in her heart made her tremble.

That wasn’t love. It couldn’t be. Love didn’t stop the world. That was just scary.

Her father never stopped trying to explain. Sometimes Kara thought he was trying to explain it all to himself. He would press the fingertips of one hand to his chest, forming a cage of fingers above his heart and say something poetic. “I hear music when I’m with her, even when she’s angry at me, even when we fight.”

It was true. He played beautifully in the midst of pain. His fingers danced on the piano keys. The sweet strains of his music seduced her mother even if they failed to seduce anyone else. She would beg his forgiveness and promise him anything and for a while he would forgive her. Kara would almost forget to be afraid when her father was home and playing.

His original compositions were complex love letters, filled with all the longing and devotion he could never seem to convey to his family in words or even actions. He had talent. But he never seemed to find fame or even moderate success. He was a wastrel, a screw-up with no sense of ambition. No recording companies called. His booking agents quit when he failed to pay them. Nobody enjoyed his attitude. He was cocky and gifted and forced to work in dive bars for patrons who jeered anything new. The people who paid him to play knew their clientele came to dance and wanted to hear the familiar wireless chart-toppers.

Eventually, he would grow sick of performing ‘like some temple monkey’ and start blaming his family for his troubles. Then, he would run off with one of the drunken whores who came regularly to whatever bar employed him. He didn’t care who took him or where they went. He would simply disappear for a time, letting Kara take her mother’s wrath. Then, one day he would show up, again, ready to take his beating. He always came back. He couldn’t stay away.

Kara inherited personality flaws from both her parents. She’d hated their weaknesses, hated the broken bones and broken glass and broken promises. Secretly, even as she cowered from her mother’s tantrums or cried herself to sleep missing her father, she thought of her parents as pathetic screw-ups. She did her best to avoid following any of their examples but she often spoke with her fists, or the slam of a door as she departed. And she certainly had trouble expressing what was in her heart.

It was a source of pride for her that she did everything she could to avoid hurting anyone else. Growing into maturity, she determined to skirt the trap of love altogether. Sex to her was like hard liquor or a cheap drug. It gave her a quick high but was too addictive to have with the same person for long. She drank to forget the men she picked up for the night. They were chosen to disappoint: pilots full of their own arrogance, dumb jocks and shallow, aspiring politicians.

Zak Adama wasn’t any of those things. He was the storybook stock figure, a nice guy. So easygoing he slipped under her guard. They were dating before she’d even thought of him as more than one of Karl Agathon's drinking buddies. He reminded her of Karl in a way but Zak was somehow sexier. A much-loved younger son, he’d never had to look far for attention or affection and so he never worried about being loved. Having no pressing needs, he never developed intensity. Everything but flying came easily for him.

He made Kara’s life easier, too. He let her breathe. Just being with him sparked the nurturer in her. She took care of him liked she’d wanted to take care of her father. She was happy and she wanted Zak to be happy, too. Even her teasing seemed to please him. She danced in and out of his arms and when they made love he held her loosely, pretending not to care if she stayed or left. At first, she’d panicked when she’d recognized her preference for his company. She’d expected to find pain under the light floating sensation he stirred in her.

But her fear flickered only in the shadows; in the flashbacks she endured whenever Zak spoke of love. She consoled herself with the truth: Zak didn’t need her. He could go on without her if he had to, like she could go on without him. They enjoyed one another. But he always let her go at the tiniest hint of resistance. He brushed his fingertips over her lips and tumbled her wildly into bed but he never demanded anything from her. He assumed she would give him her love freely. And she did. She learned to ignore her fear. Zak’s easy affection was a tonic for Kara. It was everything she’d always imagined love would be. On the day he proposed, she could see her happily ever after shining in his eyes.

And then she met his brother…and the world stopped spinning.

Lee. His name was Lee. Shelter from the storm. It was ironic really. Laughable.

He had eyes as inviting and blue as the sea on a summer’s day but they could turn cold and unfathomable in a flash. His mouth captured and held her attention, though he barely spoke at their initial meeting. He’d stared, almost rudely, as if mesmerized and not entirely pleased by her. She’d tried her best to ignore him and instead had managed to wound him with her first careless remark.

His eyes had struck back like a hurricane. When the tempest of his furiously hungry gaze swept over her it carried away everything she believed about love and her own destiny. There was someone fated to claim her. He didn’t have to say a word to cut her, to make her sorry she’d offended him. They had an organic bond. She felt whatever he did, as if they were one. He found her wanting. He found her unacceptable. He found her hypnotically irresistible. Without doing a thing, without lifting a finger, he jammed a spanner into the works of her happy-ever-after, delaying the announcement of her engagement for almost two years.

From then on, for Kara, time was measured as before and after Lee. Despite the heat he churned up from her core, she made it her mission to resist him, clinging to Zak with all her might. There was no question of her succumbing to Lee’s siren song while Zak was alive. She was determined to be happy, to have a stress-free, drama-free life. Lee Adama wasn’t going to ruin everything. Kara had no intention of becoming her mother or, even worse, her father.

Lee was wrong for her. It was that simple. They were wrong for each other. Love like theirs destroyed people. She’d seen it happen, lived through it. She wouldn’t wish her childhood on anyone; certainly not someone she admired…cared for…loved. To give in to Lee would be to give up on happiness, to be buffeted by powerful passions for the rest of her life. She would live in a sea of jealousy, anger, lust…love, yes, but also hate like a relentless tide, pushing and pulling. No. She wouldn’t be taken by storm. And to his credit Lee seemed equally skittish around her.

Yet, somehow while actively resisting their attraction, they’d become friends. She hadn’t expected to enjoy his company. But in many ways she was more in tune with Lee than she was with Zak. They looked out after one another, instinctively. He always had her back. They complimented each other, one’s strengths off-setting the other’s failings. But they were never comfortable, never sure of the ground under their feet.

And then there was no ground.

When the worlds ended the Fates brought Lee home to her. And Kara came closer than she ever had to satisfying her craving for him. The day he returned from the dead, she’d been hollow and then she was suddenly full again. Life became synonymous with Lee. She nearly gave in every day after, too. Every morning when she woke only a few feet away from him, she nearly gave in. It didn’t get easier with time. He drove her mad, filled her with a thousand conflicting desires. But life got harder all around them and they found they could support one another.

Sometimes when he smiled down at her, Kara let go of her fear for a moment. Her pulse fluttered and the air turned thick and sweet. She would flirt with him then, coaxing him closer. But if he stood too close or held her gaze too long, a pining built in her breast, becoming so fierce it felt like dogs harrying her. And then there were other times, less pleasant times, when his palpable contempt made her feel naked and ashamed. She couldn’t live in a maelstrom like that, always flashing back to her past, never feeling safe.

Like her father before her, Kara ran away from her inconsistent emotions. First, into another man’s arms and then all the way back to Caprica. She knew she’d return to Lee in time. But she needed a respite, a bit of breathing room. Lee didn’t understand, any more than her mother had, how a hard body could anchor you against the churning rip current. Sex, especially meaningless sex, was a potent drug. It could supplant other desires.

Kara found what she needed on Caprica. Sam Anders was little more than a good lay but he gave her a mindless peace. She’d enjoyed her time with him. His playful nature had reminded her of Zak. His determination had reminded her of Lee. She’d breathed free and easy with him. And if she filled in the gaps between them with fantasy, what did it matter? Sam wasn’t her problem. Lee was her problem. She could no more escape Lee Adama’s pull or avoid his pushing than her father could escape her mother. So she left Sam behind and came home again.

She came home to the mercurial Lee, who kissed her and condemned her in the space of three minutes. He was at first unforgiving and then childishly wheedling, wanting her to play. He told her he loved her, but only in her dreams.

She knew he was lying. He loved her like she loved him. He had since the first moment they’d met. And she’d tried…she’d really tried to make him feel safe enough to tell the truth. But she knew the truth hurt him like it hurt her. He didn’t want to love her. He couldn’t trust her. And she couldn’t seem to give enough. She held back, defensively protecting her heart. She didn’t see his pain until it was almost too late. Wrestling with her dysfunction, she hadn’t realized what kind of toll the push and pull was taking on Lee until the day they’d lost the Blackbird.

“That’s just it, Kara. I didn’t want to come back.”

He’d wanted to die.

Lee wanted to die.

Kara stared at him, not really comprehending, at first. Then she saw it in his eyes and thought, ‘No!’ Denial was a high-pitched infantile wail in her mind. The small child inside her pounded its fists and kicked its feet but Kara could only stare in horror. She couldn’t speak. She couldn’t draw enough air into her lungs to scream at him.

The rack disappeared, fading into fog around them. She was a little girl again, maybe eight, looking up toward her family’s apartment window. There was music blaring, loud even in the street three stories below. It was a new composition, repeating endlessly on the player. As she climbed the stairs she heard the neighbors pounding on the walls. They opened their doors to yell at her, ‘turn off that frakking noise.’ She ran up the last few steps but struggled with the latch, her broken fingers unbendable. Finally, she used her elbow to push the lever and got inside.

Her father slumped on the couch, listening to his own melody. Broken glass crunched under Kara’s feet. She couldn’t hear it over the piano but she felt it and glanced down to see the pills scattered on the floor. So many colors and shapes. So many empty vials. She wondered where all the medicine had come from. Some of it, she knew, was for her pain.

Her papa seemed happier than she’d ever seen him. Smiling sleepily, he held out his arms to her and she went to him, climbing up on to his lap. He touched her cheek, brushing her hair away from her face. The music was beautiful but so loud it hurt her ears. She covered them with her bandaged hands, wishing her fingers weren’t broken so she could turn off the player. Her father gathered her to his chest, hugging her tight.

They didn’t try to talk. It would have been silly and they didn’t have to. She knew he was leaving again. He blamed himself for her mother’s temper and he couldn’t bear to stay. It would be years before Kara let herself understand how far away he’d gone that day, so far that he would never be coming back.

Lee wasn’t going to follow her father. She wouldn’t let him make the irrevocable choice.

She left first. Already reeling, Lee took her desertion hard. He floundered emotionally, seeking comfort from strangers and refusing to believe she’d hardened her heart to him. He started paying for sex. She started drinking more, frakking people indiscriminately, and telling everyone about her lost love, especially Lee because Lee needed to know there was another way out.

He could hate her. He could recoil.

The worst part of her plan was paradoxically the best part. In a moment of drunken inspiration, she’d propositioned Lee, hoping to make him feel like just another easy lay. He’d taken her meaning. He felt the sting of it but he had no shame when it came to accepting her terms. And being with him was anything but easy. Lee blew her plans off course. For a few minutes they forgot about everything but each other.

Then, Kara struck. She brought Sam Anders’ ghost into it, creating a psychological three-way. She lowered her defenses and let Lee inside so he could see the ugly truth about them both. They would destroy each other. She made him face his own inadequacies and see there was nothing he could do for her.

She wanted him to run…to Dualla…to his expensive whores…to anyone else. She didn’t care where he went just as long as he stayed away from her. Sam’s arrival, his return from the dead, was a gift from the Gods. A way, Kara was sure, for her to cheat Fate. He’d come with the Cylon Peace Contingent, showing up just after Dee’s announcement of her pregnancy. Facing the end alone, Kara had nearly weakened, nearly begged Lee to forgive her. But with Sam at her side there was no chance to mourn Lee.

They took up where they’d left off. Sam’s sensuality pleased her. He made her feel light and giddy, just like he had on Caprica. He was easy to love and Kara threw herself into the task. She wanted Lee to see her smiling, to follow her example. She wanted him to be happy, too. Happy in a way he could never be with her. Once Lee was happy he would be safe. Then, he wouldn’t follow her father to that far away place.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A loud exclamation snapped Kara out of her flashback fog. She shuddered as she blinked away the past, startled to discover she’d been walking in her daze. Splitting her consciousness to avoid reality was a dangerous habit. One she’d picked up in childhood and never quite broken. But it had been years since she’d had two episodes this close together. She thought briefly about talking to Lee’s headshrinker. But admitting to the weakness triggered escalating anxiety and she shied away from the idea. Not that it mattered. Psychiatry hadn’t helped much in the past. Talking things out never made Kara feel better about them. She preferred action to words. She liked to keep moving.

The noise that had brought her to the here-and-now, turned out to be Sam Anders voicing protest. Kara found herself a few yards from the port hanger bay. Just ahead of her, where the hallway branched, Lieutenant Randine was pointing his gun at Sam who was locked in a struggle with the other Marine. All three men were scuffling in a circle. Randine drew back from the fray to cock his weapon. Sam was objecting to the rough treatment with a strident bray of profanity.

Kara processed the scene in a heartbeat and broke into a run. Following her lifelong habit of reacting first and settling up with the consequences later, she rushed Randine like some fearless angel. Hearing the pounding of her boots, the Lieutenant whipped his head around, a strategic error that shifted his gun off target. Sam elbowed his partner in the gut and grabbed at the muzzle of Randine’s weapon, shoving it up and away. Randine knew Kara. He liked her. They’d played cards together. She was a close friend of the Commander. He couldn’t believe she was attacking him. And his training failed in the split second of disbelief.

Kara used her considerable momentum to introduce Randine’s skull to the steel wall behind him. Grabbing the nape of his neck and his elbow, she pivoted with him, swinging his weight in an arc. His forehead cracked sickeningly into the unforgiving metal. He went down without raising a hand in his own defense. As his knees buckled, Sam succeeded in yanking his gun away. Flipping the weapon, he used the butt as a bludgeon to take out Randine’s partner before the younger Marine could regroup and shoot Kara.

“Gods,” Kara said, panting hard as she stared down at her fallen comrades. “Frak.”

Lee was going to kick her ass. Never mind flying, Lee was going to bust her all the way back to crewman status. She started adding up the offenses in her mind: conduct unbecoming, striking a fellow officer, aiding and abetting a prisoner to escape, misappropriation of a military vessel and the list went on.

“What are we doing?” Anders prompted. When she didn’t answer him, he laid a hand on her bare arm. “Kara?”

She didn’t know what they were doing. What she was doing. Life had gotten surreal and she was only reacting to it. She met Sam’s eye briefly and then her head swiveled back and forth as she scanned the corridor for witnesses. There was nobody in view but that didn’t mean they hadn’t been seen. Kara could only hope an alarm wasn’t being sounded. She pushed by Sam and stepped over Randine on her way to a small door a few feet away. The door opened on a janitorial closet.

“Help me get them in here,” she said, dipping her head to indicate the miniscule room.

Sam glanced up from his check of Randine’s weapon to casually say, “There’s no lock. They’ll wake up and be after us in a few seconds…unless,” he let the sentence hang unfinished as he leveled his appropriated gun at the fallen Marines.

“Sam?” Kara hissed her brow furrowing. She closed the distance between them in three hurried strides and snatched the gun from his hands. “They’re Colonial Marines,” she reminded him, tossing the weapon into the closet after briefly checking its safety. “Our side. And even if they weren’t…Randine’s got a wife. And the kid…” She kicked the younger Marine’s boot. “…has only been on the job for two weeks.”

“Right. Okay. Sorry,” Sam soothed. “I’m just a little flustered. This is my first jailbreak.”

Sheepishly grinning at her, he bent to retrieve the other gun from the floor but he didn’t hand it over or chuck it after Randine’s. Instead, he slipped an arm out of one sleeve of his jacket and slid the gun strap over his shoulder. Once the jacket was back in place the gun was partially hidden.

Kara stared at him feeling oddly numb. Things were coming at her too fast. A gulf expanded between her awareness and her emotions. She seemed to be standing outside events, looking on as she calmly spoke to a strangely altered Sam about murder. Had he really planned on killing unconscious men? Why did he want a gun? She focused on a truth she was sure of as she stooped to grab Randine under his armpits.

“We can’t shoot our way out of here, Sam,” Kara said. “It’s a frakking Battlestar.”

“No shooting. I’ve got it,” Anders nodded. He patted the bulge of the weapon. “But I think I’d like a little insurance.”

“All that will insure is one of us being killed,” she snapped. “We were lucky this time. Once the ship mobilizes we won’t take anyone by surprise. You don’t have enough ammo to deal with what’s coming our way.”

“So why aren’t we moving?”

“Just keep the gun out of sight. The last thing we need is for you to start drawing attention. Then we’ll really have Lee down on us.”

Sam nodded his understanding as he took Randine’s ankles. Kara forced her mind to focus and together they levered their victims into the tiny closet. A few seconds later she was closing the door. As she did, one of the unfortunate Marines groaned.

“Frak! They’re coming around,” Kara snarled. “We have to go.” She spun on her heel and broke into a sprint. Nearly bowling Sam over as she went. She managed to seize a fistful of his jacket front. “Come on,” she urged, towing him along for a few paces before releasing him to follow at his own best speed.

A lot depended on how fast they moved. Kara had never needed a com this close to the hanger and she’d remembered why. She’d always used the callboxes on the catwalks or in the maintainance area. The bay and flight deck were on a different communications system, one that didn’t interfere with ship-to-ship traffic control. She needed to get to one of those modified com units.

“Where are we going?” Sam called.

“To the hanger, to get that door sealed,” Kara explained, though her tone lacked conviction. She wasn't sure she still had the right to order a lockdown. “I can use the public call box to notify CIC…have every non-essential door on this level locked…as long as Lee hasn’t cancelled my authority.”

“And if he has?”

“Then we’re completely screwed,” she grunted, twisting around a corner too fast and banging her shoulder. “Because I won’t be able to get us off the ship either.”

She ricocheted into a deckhand and then darted between two slower moving crewmen. Sam raced with her through the twisting maze at breakneck speed, barging into people and making hasty excuses. Luckily, the Pegasus crew was used to seeing Kara in a mad dash for the hanger. Several people simply pressed against the wall when they heard her coming. The convoluted corridor ended abruptly at a narrow catwalk above a huge room. Anders plowed into Kara as she skidded to a stop. Her arm shot out across his chest to break his forward momentum.

“You have a way off this ship?” Sam panted. Hands on his hips, he bent double as he tried to catch his breath. “I knew…I loved you…for a reason.”

“I have a Raptor on standby,” Kara confirmed.

Scanning for and locating a call box, she ran to it and snatched up the receiver.

"CIC, Lt. Landerhall speaking.”

“This is Captain Kara Thrace. We have an emergency on the flight deck. I need you to seal all extraneous doors on this level on my authority.” She rattled off a series of numbers and letters.

“Yes, sir.” There was an agonizing but very brief pause. “All doors sealed. Would you like me to notify Commander Adama of your emergency?”

A dozen icy shards struck close to Kara’s heart. She winced, squeezing her eyes closed against the thought of Lee learning what she was doing. “No,” she said quickly and then added, “I’ve already spoken to him.”

“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir. Will there be anything else?”

“No, just keep those doors sealed, even if you are asked to open them.”

“Asked, sir? Who would…?”

“By someone with lesser authority, I mean,” Kara snarled and quickly hung up before she said something even stupider.

She stared at the com unit. Her hand seemed glued to the receiver, unable to release it. She had an insane urge to call Lee and try to explain her actions. As if one more reasoned plea might change his mind. Another recollection washed over her. She remembered Zak laughingly urging her to ask Lee for his day pass so they could escape the base together. ‘He won’t say, no,’ Zak had chuckled. ‘He’d do anything for you.’

Anything but stay. Anything but live. She dropped her forehead onto the back of the hand and leaned heavily into it, draping from the com unit like an old overcoat from a hook. What in the name of Nemesis was she doing? How had things gotten so far out of her control?

“Honey, we need to go,” Anders said in an urgent whisper. He pressed his shoulder into hers as he stared toward the Raptors. “Which ship do we take?”

Kara inhaled sharply and glanced up. She forced her mind to focus. “Number 618,” she said wearily. She pointed. “It should be the one on the end. You go. I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

“A few minutes?”

“We have to get flight clearance. I need my helmet and flight suit for that. And I have to report to the control room,” Kara nodded her head toward a metal stairway on the far side of the bay. It was a twin to the one she was about to climb down.

“Right,” Anders breathed, looking worried. He chewed his lip for a second and then leaned over the railing to call after her, “What do I do if you don’t show in a few minutes?”

“Pray?” Kara suggested as she hit the ground floor and headed for the Pilot’s Ready Room.

Anders raised both brows at this advice but he shrugged off his worry and followed her down the ladder. He scanned the hanger looking for some other escape route. Nothing else seemed as promising as Kara's Raptor. Anders resigned himself to a wait. He'd hoped nobody would see him but as he entered the shadow of Raptor 618 a crewman spotted him and nodded. Sam smiled brightly, winking at the young woman. Then, he placed a shushing finger to his lips. As he mounted the Raptor’s wing he beckoned the young woman after him. She blushed and glanced guiltily around but quickly made up her mind to follow him. She knew who he was and he'd always looked like a good time to her. Inside the ship, Sam waited, smiling.

When the crewman was within easy reach, he struck, snapping her neck with deft precision. She slumped against him and he held her like a lover for a moment, feeling the ache of her loss in his chest. He blinked away tears and focused on his plans. The girl was as irrelevant as he was. Only the plan mattered now. Shifting his burden, he eased her to the floor. His fingers found the edge of a grating in the deck, underneath it was a storage compartment. He lifted the grate and rolled his victim into the tiny coffin, bending her knees and neck so she would fit. Kneeling on the resealed grating, Sam clawed at the sole of his right shoe. Slowly a strip of rubber lifted, revealing a flashing red chip. He teased the chip free and slipped it into his jacket pocket. Then, he settled down to wait for Kara.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“She loves him, you jackass,” Lee muttered to himself as he thudded down the final flight of steps on his way to Auxilliary Control. “How many times has she risked her career or her neck to save you? And you thought she’d just meekly let you lock up Sam Anders, maybe charge him with espionage?” His tone turned mocking. “Oh, yeah, Lee, announce that…tell her you are charging her lover with a capital crime…smooth…”

Ahead of him Lee saw the technicians working on the jammed door of Auxilliary Control. Multicolored wires cascaded from the open security panel. Lee checked his forward speed as he drew even with the workers.

“Gentlemen,” he greeted them, not at all upset when nobody took time to salute, “how can I help you?”

“Sir, yes, sir. We could use your tags and id code. Whoever did this job had high ranking authority”

Lee thought of Kara but didn’t name her. He wasn’t her friend anymore but he was still loyal. Whipping his dog-tags off his neck, Lee handed them to the tallest tech. The nerdy crewmen on his knees beside the door controls wordlessly typed the code Lee recited into a portable keypad. The door jerked but only opened a crack. Two burlier techs pushed crowbars into the slit and then glanced at the nerd-tech. The nerd-tech nodded at the one still holding Lee’s tags. Tag-tech slid them were along the disemboweled but still operational identity scanner. The two burly-techs put some muscle into their crowbars and the door popped open.

Tag-tech waved Lee through but the gesture was totally unnecessary. Lee was already moving. He angled his shoulders to clear the partially open doorway as he dashed into a miniature version of CIC. His eyes scanned the area. He circled the center console looking for something, anything out of place. It didn’t take long to spot the flashing red chip. A console panel had been pried up near it and a spray of colorful wires flowed over the edge of the sloping desktop. Lee followed them with his eyes. Dropping to one knee, he froze, staring in stunned terror. In plain sight, flashing white numbers counting down to zero was Dr. Baltar’s stolen nuclear device.

“Out,” Lee ordered, surging to his feet. “Everyone out.”

“No, sir,” the nerd-tech said as he ducked his head to take in the sight that had startled his commander. “You should leave. But we have to stay.”

“I’m not leaving until we trace that signal,” Lee snapped, pointing at the red chip. He nodded at the tag-tech. “Get on that.” Then, he jabbed his thumb into his mobile com and raised CIC. “This is Adama. We have an armed nuclear device in AuxCo. Start evacuating C and D decks. Pull everyone back behind the two megaton blast radius. As soon as you have everyone clear, lower the shielding between here and the upper levels. We have,” he glanced at the nerd-tech and asked, “Time?”

“Twelve minutes, sir.”

“Twelve minutes on the timer. I repeat: we have an armed nuclear device and I am ordering an evacuation.” He disconnected and then immediately rang Lt. Randine. “Lieutenant,” he began as soon as the line picked up, “This is Commander Adama. Have you located your prisoner?”

“No, sir. Captain Thrace wasn’t on the flight deck. We did a modified sweep, using the few men I have. They might have been hiding somewhere, sir. I’m on my way to flight control right now to stop any ships from taking off.”

“We have an escalating situation here. You may be forced to evacuate. Keep your men close but if you can get me Sam Anders, alive, it could swing the crisis for us.”

“We’ll do our best, sir.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Kara stayed one step ahead of Randine’s search party. She got suited and arrived at her Raptor just as he left it. Sam was hiding in one of the storage areas. He scrambled out as she settled into the pilot’s seat. Kara sealed the doors. Warning Sam to stay down, she waited for the search party to pass her again before flicking the necessary switches to start her launch sequence. She struggled with her flight harness. The buckle was bent and refusing to close. She wrenched it back and forth a few times and pounded it with the side of her fist. Finally, it caught. Kara breathed a sigh of relief. The last thing she needed was an equipment malfunction.

She was running her final protocol to drop ship when the alarms started sounding. Her Raptor hung in mid-air over a bottomless shaft. Any second now they would be cut free of the Pegasus life support system and freefall into space. She saw Randine speaking to his men and then into his comlink. He started climbing the ladder to the Control Room but glanced up as the alarm sounded and spotted her ship about to launch. She saw him shouting and pointing. But it was too late to stop her. The countdown was automatic. All she needed to do was release the pinions. Then, she would need to fire her engines as her Raptor entered the landing bay or risk bouncing off the wall on the far side of it.

Red lights flashed in the hanger. The swirling crimson and pink gave Anders’ strained features a hellish patina. Kara glanced at him as she hastily hit the call button on her chair arm.

“Control,” she said into her helmet speaker. “Control? Can you read me? What the frak is going on? Are we cleared to drop?”

“All decks just went to Condition One, sir. We have an evacuation order. Please hold on your drop.”

“Evacuation?” Kara managed to say before the countdown completed.

The Raptor’s onboard computer signaled her to release pinions for her drop. Kara’s hand seemed to move without her direction. She watched numbly as it grabbed the release mechanism. The Raptor shuddered as Kara yanked the lever down for her drop. They fell toward the opening into space.

Grabbing the stick, Kara eased it down so they could pull out of the dive when her ship hit open space. For a second or two she wrestled with the, to her, incredibly cumbersome controls. Her vessel rolled before she got pitch and yaw under her command. Once the Raptor was flying stable, Kara hit the throttle. The ship seemed to crawl forward, taking forever to clear Pegasus. She was used to a much more responsive machine.

When she was finally free of her mothership and moving toward Galactica, she hit the com button again. “Control? Why are you evacuating?”

There was no answer and that worried her. She pressed the direct CIC line. “Actual? Can you read me?”

“This is Actual. Captain Thrace is that you? You are relieved of all duties and hereby placed under arrest, sir.”

“Yeah, thanks for the update. Why are you evacuating?”

“I’m sorry, sir but you are not authorized to…”

“Patch me through to Lee.”

“I’m sorry, sir but Commander Adama is in the middle of a serious…”

“Frakker,” Kara snapped before smacking the side of her hand down on the com link and severing it. “We’ll get more info from Galactica.” She pointed over her shoulder at the communications station in the rear of the ship. “You know how to use a repositioning field, right? Go try to raise them.”

“I need to send a signal to some friends of mine, first,” Sam said, standing up and moving toward the rear seats. Kara turned her head and saw him leaning over the communications station, realigning the satellite array.

“Friends? What? You’re calling the Peace Cylons, now?”

“Resistance leaders,” Sam corrected.

He slipped a headset on and fiddled with the dials and buttons used to reset a Pegasus Raptor’s the internal coms to another ship’s frequency. Galactica was on a preset frequency. It wouldn’t require so much work to flip over to Galactica Actual. Curious, Kara flicked her helmet com open again to listen.

“Minotaur,” a voice said.

“Activation in thirty seconds,” Sam said. “We are coming home. Pegasus Raptor 618. Can you clear us to land?”

“You are cleared. Do you have your guidance chip?”

“I have it. Stand-by.” Sam pushed the headset off the back of his head and stood, coming forward again. He pointed at a data port on the Raptor’s instrument panel. “Is that the autopilot?”

“You’re involved with the Fleet resistance?” Kara frowned, shifting so she could stare at him directly through her visor. “Those people are criminals, Sam.”

“I suppose we’re criminals, too, now,” Sam said without any force. He wiggled his extended pointer finger, repeating his query, “Is that the autopilot?”

“Yes,” Kara said, distracted by his odd behavior. “Look, Fleet resistance took hostages…civilians. They wanted to kill Sharon and her baby. Why would you be involved with…?”

A wash of chilled understanding cramped her throat when she saw Sam take a red data chip from his jacket pocket and insert it into the autopilot port. The chip flashed ominously. An instant later, the Raptor’s stick jerked free of Kara’s hand. The ship pitched left in a banking turn. Kara grabbed for the controls, yanking on them with all her might, but they wouldn’t budge.

“What the hell did you do?” she barked, turning a hostile glare on Sam.

When he didn’t answer her, Kara smacked a hand down on her flight harness release and lunged for the chip. The bent buckled jammed and she was stopped short. She strained forward, trying to reach the chip and pry it free. Her heavily gloved fingers slid over buttons and switches and then fell from the console. She was more irritated than scared. Sam was no threat to her. He was meddling because he didn’t understand about civilian involvement in wars.

Even when he caught her wrists, holding her fast, Kara didn’t process Anders’ actions as dangerous. She struggled with him but only half-heartedly. It surprised her to learn he was suddenly very strong. His eyes seemed to have a mad glint and, trapped by her flight harness, she could do little against his superior muscle in the weightless environment. Her space suit, helmet and harness handicapped her movements. Free of any of those encumbrances and braced against his seat, Sam had the advantage on her.

“We can’t go to Galactica, Kara,” he said, patiently. “I’m sorry but it won’t be safe for you there. I need to find a place for you and our baby.”

Safe? He’s trying to keep me safe? Of course, this is Sam.

Kara chuckled, relaxing as she realized this was about her and the baby. Sam was picking up on her panicky thoughts. He was overreacting to their crazy jailbreak and Lee’s spiteful behavior. Kara felt a pang of guilt. Sam was an innocent bystander she'd dragged into her emotional war. He had sensed her fear and concocted some kind of plan to make sure she was safe. Whatever he was doing it couldn’t be as ominous as it seemed. All she had to do was reassure him.

“Yes, I’m in trouble,” she admitted. “But the Old Man is fair. Once I explain everything to him, he’ll understand why I had to get you off the Pegasus.” She mentally crossed her fingers, hoping she was right.

“This isn’t about our jailbreak. I’m grateful to you, though. I never expected to make it off that ship alive.”

“You never…” Kara frowned putting things together. The Pegasus was being evacuated. Sam knew it would be. He hadn’t expected to escape. “Bloody Ares, Lee was right,” she breathed. “Sabotage.”

The thought inspired action. Throwing her weight to one side, she wrenched a hand out of Sam’s grip and darted it toward her harness release but the buckle refused to budge. And before she’d done much more than grunt and tug at it the stubborn flange, Sam put the muzzle of his gun to her faceplate.

“I know you’re brave, Kara. I know you want to do something to help but you can’t and you do have a baby to worry about.” He paused, giving her time to remember the baby. “I love you both. In a way, I'm doing all of this for our baby. I hope you’ll listen to me. But if you won’t…” He let the threat finish in her head and then went on, “I’ve been lying to you, yes. I’ve been lying to everyone. And yes, your friend, Lee was right about me.”

“You frakking son of a bitch,” Kara squeaked. Her brow creased as she surged toward him. His gun clacked loudly against the bullet proof glass of her helmet. But being shot was the least of her worries. “You’re a cylon agent?”

Sam laughed at the idea even as he stood and forced her back into her seat. “I’m not. I’m a patriot, just like you. I’m helping mankind. My people. Your people. We can’t make a deal with the Cylons, Kara, no matter what they offer. Your friend is right about that.”

Kara stopped struggling. He wasn’t making any sense. “Lee was right? About what? You argued with him. You’re part of the peace delegation.”

“Peace,” Anders spat. “It’s the Farms all over again.”

“But…but…you came here with them.”

“What choice did I have? They captured me, tortured me for weeks and then one day…they came in with a new plan. We would all be friends. They said they would bring me to you, if I cooperated. Caprica was dying, Kara. The Resistance was over. People jumped at the idea of peace. But peace at such a cost is unthinkable. It would be the end of humanity. I went along with it, hoping, praying I could strike back.”

“Strike back? You’re striking back?” She tried to make all of the pieces fit in to the puzzle but couldn’t see where this one would go. “Why is the Pegasus at Condition One?”

Sam checked his watch and then nodded at the window. “It’s time. Your friend, Lee, he’s going to die a hero. He’s his father’s son. Neither of them wants peace. All it will take is the slightest whiff of Cylon treachery and everything will fall apart like a house of cards.”

“But it’s not the Cylons…”

“You’re a smart woman,” he said, staring into her eyes and speaking with complete sincerity. “I’m so sorry about your friend. Please believe me when I say I tried to convince my people to go with his father’s ship.”

“I don’t…” Kara started to say but already the world was shifting.

She could see the difference in it. She understood. But it didn’t matter. It was too late. She’d made the wrong choice and there was nothing she could do to change things. The Fates had decreed she would destroy Lee Adama and all her plotting and scheming hadn’t changed anything. You couldn’t cheat the Fates.

“Munitions,” Kara whispered. Lee was in munitions. Sam had left something behind…a trigger. The pyramid ball.

From the corner of her eye she noticed Sam, looking at his watch, again.

She had to do something. She couldn’t just let this happen.

A scream ripped the soft tissue in the back of her throat. “LEE!”

She screamed again and again, willing him to hear her as she flailed her fists at Sam, shoving his gun hand up and cracking his head to the side. His weapon flew across the deck, discharging a bullet that ricocheted around the cabin. He cringed away from her and ducked to avoid the tiny missile but Kara kept fighting. She braced her feet and pushed against the flight console, trying to squirm out of her harness. She wrenched one shoulder free. Ignoring the pain, she turned onto her side and clawed at the back of her seat. If only she could reach the communications station, realign the array. If only the Gods would grant her enough time.

A bright white flare blew out the near side of Pegasus, opening three decks to space.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Bill Adama was staring out the window of a shuttle when the sky flared white and then red. His arm came up instinctively to protect his vision as stinging tears blinded him. He turned his head to the side, blinking rapidly to clear away the film of moisture and the purple afterglow. Next to him he heard, Laura saying, “Oh, my Gods, Bill.”

Her tone was so chilled Adama forced his eyes open to see her. She was looking over his shoulder toward a section of the heavens where Bill knew the Pegasus was flying. Dreading what he might find, he turned, following her line of sight. The first glance was enough to make his bladder clench and his shoulders droop. He panted through the first wash of pain.

Lee’s ship was on fire. Whole decks were gone. There was nothing left of munitions or the forward cargo holds. CIC was still operational but the first explosion seemed to have triggered a chain reaction. All over the injured Battlestar, surreal geysers were spouting fire into the blackness of space.

The com unit beeped. Laura went to it.

“President Roslin.”

“Sir, yes, sir,” Anastasia Dualla’s trembling voice spoke on the line. “We’ve had reports of a large scale explosion and confirmation that Pegasus is evacuating personnel.”

“Yes, thank you, Petty Officer. Please keep us informed.” Laura shot a glance at the grey and immobile Bill and lowered her voice to a whisper. “Have you heard from Lee?”

“No,” Dee’s voice cracked as she added, “I just got back. I just left him.”

Laura felt her muscles tensing. She resented Dee for going from Billy’s funeral straight to Lee Adama’s bed without the tiniest mourning period between them. She hadn’t spoken to either of them in a private capacity since. But she didn’t want to see either of them hurt like this. If Lee was dead…

No, she wasn’t going to think about the eventuality. She could see Bill was thinking it for both of them.

“I’m sure he’s okay,” she told Dee. “He will be busy getting his people to safety. But he’s not going to go down with his ship. He’s too smart for that.”

“Yes, sir,” Dee said, tremulously. “Thank you, sir.”

Laura hung up the phone and returned to Bill’s side to take his arm. “He is too smart for that,” she said, hugging his arm close to her chest. “Right?”

“I’ve always told him,” Bill whispered, in a hoarse vibrato. “Only a fool goes down with his ship. A true Commander is plotting vengeance to his last breath. Planning victory long after his ship is gone. If you lose your ship and survive, you can still win the war. And if you win the war…they’ll give you another ship.”

“So, you see? He’s fine,” Laura said, patting him again. She took a shuddering breath and had barely released it when a Cylon Basestar jumped into the sky. Bill Adama jerked free of her hold, eyes blazing as he focused on the enemy craft.

The Basestar made no obvious aggressive moves but another explosion rocked the Pegasus. This one was much larger than the first. It split the mighty ship in two. Bill crossed to the com. Snatching it up, he punched the code for Galactica Actual.

“This is Adama,” he barked “Order the fleet to condition one. And fire all forward batteries. Take that motherfrakker out.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sam Anders was yelling, gesturing, as he tried to explain himself. Kara saw his hands waving and his lips moving but she couldn’t hear him over the music. The requiem in her head was deafening, a furious hammering of notes. Kara recognized the piece, “Autumn Effigy,” her father’s original composition.

She tried to wrench her helmet off as she slid back down into her seat. She wanted to cover her ears and close her eyes. She wanted to cower in a corner until the world made sense again. But she was tangled up in a snare of straps and she couldn’t make her broken fingers work. She’d come home to find the music blasting and her father waiting to say goodbye.

When he was gone, when his eyes stared lifelessly, the music covered the sound of Kara’s pleading wail. Her parents always believed that if you couldn’t hear the screaming, somehow it didn’t hurt as bad. Kara was screaming a name she didn’t even recognize.

Beyond her apartment windows a starry night full of strange constellations reeled drunkenly. The unstable view was dominated by a raging fire. Her father's resonating piano playing seemed a perfect accompaniment for the burning Battlestar. A second explosion, even greater than the first, twisted and broke the massive warship into a dozen blackened pieces. Vipers and other small craft spiraled away from the bigger vessel like so many startled birds. They climbed and circled above fountains of ignited oxygen, buzzards playing in a rising breeze. None of the carrion birds carried hope.

There was no hope. Lee was dead.

The silvery arc of escaping lifepods mocked her as they flashed brilliantly above the field of orange and yellow poppies. She couldn't escape what was happening. Bright flowers bloomed before her wide, staring eyes. Row after row of pain-killing blossoms filled her field of vision. Lee Adama’s funeral pyre was a work of art, wondrous to behold.

‘Lee?’ Kara thought.

She tried to hold onto his name but it slipped away from her into the smoke and haze. The name became part of the cloud forming around the huge, dying ship. No atmosphere encouraged the smoke and no breeze could stir it. It would linger. But she couldn’t. She had to go.

There was only one thing left to do. She had to stop the music. The neighbors were angry. Her mother would be angry, too. Her father had gone away again. But Kara wasn’t worried. He always came back. All she had to do was rewind the recording and clean up the mess before her mother came home.

Ignoring the horrible view beyond her windows, Kara gathered her courage against the pain she knew she would feel when she used her hands. She breathed deep to steady her nerves and then reached out toward the player. She could see the rewind button.

“Caution: Air Lock Release,” it declared in bright red letters.

But she was just learning Colonial Standard in school so the letters meant nothing to her. All she knew was what button to push, the one that would stop the music. She slapped her palm down hard on the release, wincing as her fingers throbbed. The music stopped abruptly. Somewhere, someone screamed. Her seat jerked as a hand clawed at it in desperation. There was a whoosh and a swirl of movement at the far edge of her peripheral vision but it was only the vultures fleeing.

Kara sighed. All was silent and still, a peace settled over her, a peace so perfect it broke her heart.

She could rest now.

The Raptor was taking her somewhere safe. Responding to the red chip in the auto pilot, it flew along a predetermined route. A great silver star loomed above her but the tiny Raptor flew under it, unmolested. Kara looked up as fiery blooms appeared on the arms of the star. She felt nothing, no fear, no pain. She was numb, sleepy. Inside her helmet a voice was counting down…45…44…43…. She couldn’t understand the numbers but she followed them backward into the dark well of her subconscious. The world seemed new to her.

When the body of a huge ship wheeled into her field of vision, a landing bay gaping in its hull, she didn’t flinch. She had no frame of reference for worry and no connection to her physical body. Even when the larger ship swallowed her little vessel whole, she felt no fear. Her mind was as empty as a newborn’s.

She closed her eyes and let the numbers count her down into dreamless slumber.

END THIS PART (PART 6 is coming soon)

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viper-knight.livejournal.com

*blinks*

...

*swallows hard*

certainly a work of art... incredible piece.

even though you've just about put me into shock, thanks for sharing!

^-^

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