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Lee At the End of the World
by Spooky
Lee at the End of the World
"Are they the lucky ones? That's what you're thinking, isn't it?"
An hour after saying goodnight to his father, Lee Adama was still wandering Galactica's narrow, midwatch-quiet corridors, his old man's passionate sermon still echoing dimly in his ears.
Were the dead the lucky ones? Had those been his thoughts during the memorial service? Gods, how could anybody have any sort of thoughts now? He felt numb, it was all too big to really comprehend. Maybe in a week, or a month, or a year, maybe when they all started to try and live again, maybe then he might wonder who was lucky and who wasn't.
Reaching out a hand, he trailed a finger along Galactica's old, cold bones. He'd never served with his father, and after Zak's death he hadn't even wanted to set eyes on the old man, and yet, in a quirk of fate, or maybe providence, here he was. As the old lady lumbered gracefully into retirement, he had found himself temporarily reassigned aboard his father's ship. The fleet had thought it would be a fitting tribute to the Commander to have his son serve with him during Galactica's final days at space.
The irony of the reassignment had burned him bitterly, but he couldn't refuse. Gods know he'd tried to find some way out of it, but in the end, he'd packed his kit, fingered the new Galactica patch on his flight suit, and resolutely climbed into his Viper.
And if he had found a way out of it, what then? He'd be dead, no doubt. Gone down with the rest of the fleet. Falling in either the first shocking wave of attacks, or in the bare few hours afterward as the fleet tried to regroup for a doomed counter strike. Was he a lucky one?
A phone buzzed just up the corridor and he watched a specialist crawl out of the wall to answer it. He smiled sadly and patted Galactica. Of all the ships in the fleet, this old bird, with her ancient tech and her creaky bulkheads, was the one who survived. Go figure.
A second specialist joined the first, still on the phone, and after some suggestive hand gestures and a grumbled oath, they broke into laughter. And the living kept on living.
He pushed away from the corridor wall and continued on his walk, offering a polite nod to the specialists as he passed.
"It's the end of the world, Lee. I thought I ought to confess my sins."
Kara's words had touched something cold in him. For two long years, he'd blamed his father for his brother's death. The old man pushed Zak too hard, for too long, made him into something he wasn't, and it killed him. Lee almost wanted to hold on to that resentment, it was familiar and easy, but now he knew Zak's blood was on Kara's hands, and he supposed if he thought about it just hard enough, he could probably find stains on his own, as well.
It was the end of the world, the end of everything, and maybe Kara had the right of it; it was time to let go of sins. If he could forgive her -- and it seemed he did -- then surely he could forgive his father.
He rubbed a hand over his eyes, and let the hum of the ship surround him as he walked. The heavy clank of tools as more techs went about repairs, marines talking quietly at a hatch, a low thrum of voices and computers rolling down the hall from the CIC. He'd served on Battlestars before, but he'd never been on Galactica, in his walk he was trying to get a measure of her. She was from another age, one he hardly understood. Not unlike his father, Lee told himself with a quiet, dry laugh.
During his first few hours on Galactica, before the world ended, he hadn't spent any time getting to know her, instead he'd been counting down the seconds until he could leave again, and he'd thought then, if he had to stay a minute longer than his assignment, he'd chew his way through the bulkheads. Now she was all that was left. Gods, that was just so hard to wrap his head around.
Everything was gone. There was no next assignment, there was no other home. Almost every single person he'd ever known was dead. Mom was dead. His friend Gary died owing him fifty. His old squad, who he'd promised a night at the bar on him, if he survived his time with his old man, were all dead. Fifty-thousand humans left, each one at least as lost and broken as he was.
"Maybe it would have been better for us to have died quickly, back on the colonies with our families. Instead of dying out here slowly in the emptiness of dark space. Where shall we go? What shall we do?"
He eventually found himself outside the hatch to his new bunk. He almost pushed away and walked the ship one more time, he wasn't quite ready to commit to this reality, but the hatch opened then and he was forced to step aside to let a lieutenant out. He didn't catch her name. She smiled at him, though, called him Captain and gave him that look of respect he'd automatically resented when he first arrived. How could these people think so highly of his father, he'd wondered, and he hadn't wanted any part of his old man's reputation.
Maybe he was being a superior asshole, he allowed. Not that he'd ever admit that to Kara.
The pilot paused, noticing he hadn't gone in or shut the hatch, and gave him a questioning look. Shrugging his shoulders and shaking his head, Lee took a step into what would be his home for, conceivably, the rest of his life. As he stepped through the hatch a smell hit him that he hadn't smelled in two long years. Funny how he never realized how much he missed it until that moment.
He secured the hatch and scanned the room. All of the bunks were empty save one. He wondered at it briefly and felt a stab of grief and shame when he remembered just how many pilots Galactica had lost that day. It was the end of the world, after all.
Pushing that grief away, he walked over to the only occupied bunk. Kara had her eyes closed, but her thick cigar was still clenched in her teeth, the fat end glowing and white smoke curling. He kicked the side of her bunk and dropped to a crouch, resting his elbow at her side.
"Hey, Starbuck," he greeted with a grin.
"Hey, Apollo," she mumbled around the cigar, eyes still shut.
"That thing smells like the inside of an old boot, you know?"
She raised an eyebrow and opened one eye, watching him cooly. "I'm not sharing."
"Same old selfish Kara," he teased with a put-upon sigh.
"Damn straight," she said confidently, an amused quirk on her lips.
Turning onto her side, she propped herself up on her elbow, watching him intently. He hadn't seen that gaze in a long time. It was the uncanny one she used when she was out to pry something from him he didn't want to give up. He looked down at the deck.
"Where ya been, Lee?"
Standing slowly, he took a couple of steps away from her bunk, and ran his fingers across the top of the table. Glancing over his shoulder at her, he shrugged. "Talking to, uh, Dad about Viper resources, the CAP, things like that."
"Ah, CAG stuff." She nodded slowly, still staring, but the amused quirk, turned into a crooked smile.
He circled the table, pulled out a chair and sat facing her, one finger absently rubbing at a scuff on the hard tabletop. "Did I thank you for what you did for me out there today?"
She swung out of her bunk with a grunt and dropped into the chair across from him. "I honestly don't remember."
"Well, just in case, thank you," he said with a smile.
She nodded at him with a cocky smirk. "Happy to help."
"You're still insane, of course."
"Never said I wasn't."
"I owe you one," he told her sincerely.
She snorted and shook her head. "You don't owe me anything, Lee. Way I figure it, I thought you were dead at one point today, and then there you were. Then you thought you were dead, and here you are." With a smile, she spread her hands and cocked her head. "See? We're even."
"So, that was payback for me saving my own life?" He frowned and met her dark gaze. "That's an odd way to look at it."
She shrugged and slouched back in her chair, puffing on her cigar.
Considering that for a moment longer, he slowly unbuttoned his jacket and stared at the table. Leave it to Starbuck to make a strange day slightly stranger.
Standing up, he turned and opened his new locker, hanging his jacket neatly. He took quick stock of his last, meagre possessions. He'd left most of his things in storage, even the small handful of keepsakes he'd normally keep with him from assignment to assignment. He hadn't intended to be here long, of course.
"I, uh, I got your letter," he said suddenly, not liking the silence. "Thank you."
"Sorry I couldn't be there. Training crap out past Picon. I couldn't get the leave. I tried."
"No, I know. It's okay. The letter meant a lot. I was going to reply, but, well, time got away from me, and then I found out they were sending me here, so I figured I'd just do it in person." He slowly shut his locker and turned to sit again.
"How's it feel to be Captain?"
"Uh, well, it did feel pretty good. Now?" He gave a weary shrug.
"Yeah. You're what? Third ranking officer in what's left of fleet?" She opened her eyes wide in mock horror. "Scary."
He glared at her. "That would make you fourth."
She winced and waved him off. "Don't remind me."
"And a heartbeat away from CAG," he pressed with a mischievous grin.
"Right, okay, shut up."
"You brought it up."
She pointed her cigar at him, then tapped the table for emphasis. "I've got two goals I'm living for from here on out. One, I'm gonna spend the rest of my life saving your life, and two, I'm gonna die before you."
"What a life," he laughed.
"It's a new world, I'm just trying to find my place."
Crossing his arms, he leaned forward on the table. "What do you think about all this, Kara?"
"The end of the world?" He nodded and she seemed to consider while taking a long draw at her cigar. "I really don't know. Gods know I got off luckier than most of the other survivors. I'm not sure if I should feel grateful or guilty. Mostly I'm leaning towards grateful."
"How are you luckier?" Lee asked, puzzled.
Kara's sober, thoughtful look melted into an amused smile and she laughed. "You're a dumbass, Lee."
"What?"
She pursed her lips and told him seriously, "I didn't lose my family. Such as it is."
Lee chewed on his lip and stared at the glowing end of her cigar, resting between two long fingers on the table. "I didn't think about that," he allowed.
"That's why you're a dumbass."
She sounded distant and almost hurt. He followed the end of her cigar up as she raised it to take another puff.
"Kara, I--"
"Do you believe your dad? About Earth?" She interrupted quickly, changing the subject. He let her.
Dropping his head down, resting his cheek on his forearms, Lee shrugged. "I don't know," he muttered. "How likely is it that after thousands of years anybody still remembers where Earth is? If it's even more than legend?"
"You think he lied?"
"I don't know. I don't know if he'd do that. Hell, I don't even know him," he admitted.
"I think he was trying to give everybody something," Kara said with a resolute sort of calm. "Whether it's real or myth, doesn't matter, does it? How likely are we to get there?"
"That's optimistic of you," Lee replied sourly.
"That's realistic of me. Fifty-thousand people, Lee. A handful of ships? The Cylons are going to come after us, you know that."
"So, what? You're giving up?"
She snorted scoffingly. "No. But I can recognize our odds. They blow."
He raised his head and propped his chin on his hand. "They do."
"The Commander sees the odds, too. Better everybody feels like they've got someplace to go to, though."
"You think it's just a myth," Lee stated flatly.
"I think the myth is that the senior commanders of the fleet know Earth's location," she said with a matter-of-fact smirk. "As for Earth? I don't know. The Lords of Kobol tell us it's real. I've got no reason to doubt them."
"You know, a week ago I probably would have been pissed off and figured that was just like the old man to lie to everybody. Give them all false hope. Maybe you're right, though. It's better than no hope, isn't it? And what's it like to have to give that to everybody and not have it for himself?" He asked quietly, wondering more to himself than seeking an answer from Kara.
"Your dad's a good guy, Lee. I won't excuse the kind of father he was to you and Zak, but people change. You lost a brother, he lost a son."
"And you?"
She smiled. "Things happen for a reason. We don't have to like it, but I've got to believe they happen for a reason."
"Including this? That's going to require a lot of faith." He shook his head and leaned back in his chair.
"What the frak else do we have left?" Kara asked dryly.
They sat in silence for several long seconds. Lee tried wearily to pick through his jumbled thoughts, feeling swamped by everything from his old man, those lost, the future, or lack of. Gods only know what was going through Kara's mind, he wouldn't dare try and guess.
"So ..." he started again.
"So."
"End of the world."
"Yep."
"Figures I'd be stuck here with you."
She gave him a bright grin and he yelped when her foot connected with his shin. "Next time I aim higher."
He laughed and was about to reply when the klaxons went off.
"Action stations! Action stations! Set condition one throughout the ship. Inbound DRADIS contact. All hands stand-by for battle maneuvers. Repeat. Action stations! Action stations!"
The pair scrambled to their feet, each reaching for a locker.
"Guess they aren't going to give us a break today," Kara growled.
"Nope. Maybe they just don't want you to get bored."
"Gee, that's considerate."
Lee tugged on his flight suit and turned around. "Hey, Starbuck."
"What?" Kara muttered, glancing up from adjusting her suit's straps.
"Thanks."
She cocked her head quizzically, but apparently decided against asking. "Let's go hunting, flyboy."
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