BY YOUR COMMAND - Static ARCHIVE

"Apollo," he said finally, "I don't know why it happened, but it - it didn't mean anything."

"That's irrelevant. It's what you did to me that matters, Starbuck. You cheated on me, and you lied. But obviously you don't think you did anything wrong."

"I know it was wrong." Starbuck closed his eyes. There were no words that could make this okay. He knew that, but he had to try. "It's just me, I guess. I get into these situations I can't get out of."

"Am I supposed to feel sorry for you?"

"No."

"Well, you've managed to get yourself out of this situation."

But I don't want to be, Starbuck thought. "I'm sorry," he said, his voice trembling slightly. "I'm so sorry, Apollo. I'll do anything to make things right."

Apollo shook his head. "I always knew you'd end up hurting me," he said quietly.

"Apollo, please -"

"What did I say when we started this?" Apollo interrupted angrily.

"I, uh, I don't know."

"I said we're risking more than we might want to lose, and that we both had to be careful. Both of us, Starbuck! Or did you just think I'd brush this off like so many other things you've done to me!"

"What else have I done to you?"

"Oh, come on - you really want a list? It would take all day!"

"Well, I think we should talk about this later."

Apollo shook his head. "There's nothing to talk about. It's done. We're done, and I mean completely."

He was very angry, and Starbuck knew he should just leave, but he couldn't stop himself from asking: "Are we friends, at least?"

Apollo's expression was incredulous. "You really don't get it, do you? There's no friendship to return to! You've betrayed that!" Tears in those green eyes now. "You talked me into this. You convinced me that you loved me."

"I do love you."

Apollo shook his head. "No, you don't. Now get out."

***

In shock, Starbuck made his way to his own quarters. He sank into a chair, the harsh reality of what just happened beginning to sink in. Apollo didn't forgive people easily. It really was over. Completely.

Three nights ago, after a rauchious evening on the Rising Star, Starbuck had spent the night with a pretty young servant of one of the Council members. His memory of that night was hazy, but enough for him to know there'd been a certain amount of sex involved. It really hadn't meant anything to him. Still, when he caught an early shuttle back to the Galactica, arriving just in time for his duty shift, he told Apollo he woke up in a corner of the casino, luckily just in time. Apollo had been less than pleased with that story, as it offended his Captain's sensibilities. He proceeded to tell Starbuck in no uncertain terms that this behaviour by senior officers would not be tolerated, and a notation was going on his file.

No more was said about it until today, when Apollo had somehow learned the truth. It really didn't matter how he found out. He just did.

It was always all or nothing for Apollo. If he decided he didn't like someone, there was nothing that person could do to change his mind. Only very rarely did Apollo reformulate his opinions. That's not to say he made snap decisions; he took his time, gathered lots of info first, which, Starbuck knew, was bad news for him. In terms of relationships, Apollo had to have fidelity, he'd told Starbuck he could not handle a partner that wandered. "There's nowhere I want to go," Starbuck had replied. "It's always been you, Apollo, right from the start."

Now, those pain-filled green eyes hovered in Starbuck's mind. And Apollo's words: 'I always knew you'd end up hurting me…'

It had taken Starbuck a long time to convince him. Hell, it had taken Starbuck a long time to realize that his feelings for Apollo ran much deeper than friendship. Their constant bickering and petty annoyances with each other had only masked intense attraction. Fighting always got the blood pumping. Starbuck would storm out of the duty office and find himself with a throbbing hard-on.

Their first kiss had happened in a cargo bay. Not a very romantic setting, but Apollo was hunting through containers for battery packs, all alone. Starbuck showed up on the pretext of helping, then trapped Apollo in a corner and kissed him soundly. Weeks of endless, fruitless talking had led Starbuck to take such drastic action. He knew if he could just get his hands on Apollo, all resistance would fall away.

And he was right. Apollo melted into the kiss, prolonging it, his arms pulling Starbuck closer. He tasted delicious. He felt divine, his body molding perfectly to Starbuck's. It was absolutely right, what was happening between them. Starbuck had never been so sure of anything.

So, what happened?

Starbuck wished he knew. He wished he could understand why he did what he did. He always had to wreck the good things in his life. Some weird self-destructive defence mechanism. There was no blaming it on the alcohol. It was him.

Starbuck hunched down, feeling a sudden tightening in his chest and lump in his throat. Good lord, was he going to cry? He'd never cried over any love affair before.

Well, there was always a first time. He put his face in his hands and wept.

***

His duty shift changed. No more working with Apollo. Now, they would never see each other. In a fit of spite, Apollo paired Starbuck with Bojay, of all people, knowing full well how much they despised each other.

"So, what'd you do to piss off the Captain so bad?" Bojay asked.

"The usual, I guess," Starbuck replied.

"Yeah, well, thanks for puttin' me in it too, Bucko."

"How 'bout we just don't talk to each other?"

"Fine with me."

So, eight centaurs of ringing silence, both in the duty office and on patrol. That was worse for Starbuck. Gave him too much time to think.

Memories of he and Apollo came to him unbidden and without warning. It was like his mind wanted to punish him by constantly reminding him of what he'd thrown away. He'd catch glimpses of Apollo now and then, and obviously the Captain was keeping a tight lid on his pain, as no one complained about being carpeted or yelled at. To the others, Apollo just continued on like before, like nothing had happened.

A week later, they did come face to face in a corridor as Starbuck headed for the launch bay for another torturous patrol with Bojay. They were both startled, but Apollo didn't pause, had every intention of just walking on by, so Starbuck grabbed his arm, stopping him.

"Let me go."

"I want to talk to you."

"Let me go, Leiutenant."

"Apollo, we can't ignore each other for the next 20 yahrens."

"Do you really want my attention focussed on you? I don't think you'd like it. Now, let go of my arm, and that's an order."

Reluctantly, Starbuck released him. Apollo hadn't looked at him the whole time, had kept his gaze on a point at the end of the corridor.

"Please, Apollo," Starbuck said. "Please, can we talk?"

Apollo shook his head. "That's how I got into this mess, listening to your lies."

The bitterness astonished Starbuck, rendering him momentarily speechless. "I made a mistake," he replied. "And I'll wait as long as I have to for you to forgive me."

This made Apollo turn on him, trapping Starbuck in a cold, hard gaze.

"What makes you think you deserve to be forgiven?" Apollo demanded.

"Everyone deserves it," Starbuck shot back, getting a little angry now. "You haven't lived such a perfect life yourself, you know. Maybe you need to be reminded, Captain!"

"I'm not listening anymore," Apollo said, striding away.

"Oh no - you never want to hear about any of your own sins, do you?" Starbuck went after him, working himself up into a real fury. "You don't want to think about mistakes you've made, people you've hurt -"

"Don't, Starbuck."

"At least my actions have never gotten anybody killed!"

Apollo stumbled, actually stumbled like he'd been hit. Starbuck's anger vanished, replaced by a sick feeling in his gut.

"Oh my god, I'm sorry, Apollo, I didn't mean that."

"Don't talk to me."

"I'm an idiot. You know I'm an idiot -"

"I SAID DON'T!!"

Apollo's shout reverberated down the corridor.

Starbuck stopped and watched him walk away, then sagged against the wall, silently berated himself. He was appalled at what he'd said, throwing Apollo's guilt back at him so thoughtlessly. Maybe it was true. Maybe he didn't love Apollo. Maybe he didn't know how.

***

"Hey, why're you lookin' so sorry for yourself?" Boomer asked, sliding into a seat by Starbuck in the OC.

"I don't want to talk about it."

Boomer leaned down a bit to get a look at Starbuck's face. Frowning, he straightened back up again. It was serious, whatever had happened, and it had something to do with Apollo. That much Boomer had figured out.

"You want me to leave?" he asked.

Starbuck glanced at him, then shook his head. "No."

"You want to play cards?"

"No."

Sometimes you could get Starbuck to talk if you asked him a very direct question. That's how Boomer had found out about his affair with Apollo. He'd come up to Starbuck one day and just asked him. But that didn't mean Boomer went around gossiping about it. There no one more descreet than Boomer.

"What happened between you and Apollo?"

Starbuck sighed, and for an instant Boomer thought he looked like he was going to cry.

"I, uh, I fucked everything up," Starbuck answered. "He hates me, and with good reason."

"I'm sure he'll forgive you in a little while. He always has before."

"Not this time."

"You want to tell me about it?"

"Quite frankly, Boomer, I'm too ashamed of myself to talk about it."

This was very serious. Starbuck was terribly upset, stared down into his drink, blinking. Boomer squeezed his shoulder, then patted him between the shoulder blades.

"Okay, buddy," he said. "How about I buy you another drink?"

***

Words, once spoken, couldn't be taken back. Especially terrible, cutting words designed to hurt. It was always a risk when two people got close. You'd learn so much about each other that hurtful words came too easily. Starbuck couldn't have said anything worse or more damaging to Apollo. He couldn't have destroyed their relationship more thoroughly if he'd tried.

Now, he avoided Apollo, deciding it was his only recourse. He didn't want to remind him of their last conversation, but he was completely unprepared to meet Boxey one day. Starbuck came around a corner, and there the kid was.

"Uh, hi kid."

Boxey looked up at him, no hate in his brown eyes, just confusion. "How come you don't come over anymore?" he asked, getting right to the point.

"Oh, well, I work a different shift now. There's never time."

"Why do you work a different shift? Don't you work with my dad?"

"Not anymore," Starbuck replied.

Apollo obviously hadn't told Boxey anything. The boy frowned.

"But you were teaching me how to play Pyramid," he said.

"Your dad can teach you."

"But I want you to teach me."

Starbuck sighed. "You should talk to your dad about it," he said, then thought better. "No," he amended hurriedly. "Don't talk to your dad. Look, kid, we'll continue our lessons sometime, okay? I promise. But I'm going to be really busy for the next while."

"Did you have a fight with my dad?"

"Well… we're…yes, we had a fight."

"Is he mad at you?"

Starbuck didn't know how to avoid answering these questions. And now he was afraid Boxey would confront Apollo, and Apollo would think Starbuck was using the boy somehow -

"Is he mad at you?" Boxey repeated.

Starbuck nodded. "Very."

"I won't tell him I was talking to you."

"No, it's all right, Boxey. Don't lie to him. It's between your dad and me, and we will work it out."

"I hope so."

"How is he, anyway? Is he okay?"

Boxey shrugged. "He's tired all the time."

"Well, you better get moving. He's probably wondering where you are."

"No. He's asleep. I snuck out. I'm going to find Garrett."

Asleep? Starbuck thought. Apollo would have just finished his shift, and normally wouldn't be going to bed for several centars yet.

"Well, make sure you leave him a message about where you are."

"I did. Bye."

Boxey took off down the corridor. Starbuck watched after him, wondering if there was something he should do…

No, he'd done enough already.

***

In bed, Starbuck couldn't help but remember all the times they'd made love here, Apollo's weight pressing him down, sweat running off them making their skin slippery. The sex had been beyond incredible, and Starbuck knew why. It was because he was with someone he truly loved, and that had never happened before. When they were together, both his body and soul were being sated. The spiritual connection heightened their lovemaking, and afterwards, Starbuck would cuddle against Apollo in a state of post-love narcosis, the universe consisting of only the two of them.

On duty, it was difficult not to touch each other, but somehow they managed, restricting their intimate contact to looks and small smiles. It only made them hotter when they did get together. Clothes would be shed virtually before the door was fully closed.

Afterwards, too, they'd have long conversations, some of them serious, some of them definitely not, like when Apollo would do a bang-on impression of his father that would give Starbuck a wicked case of the giggles the next time he saw the Commander. And even after all the time they'd spent as good friends, Starbuck learned things he didn't know. Like, Apollo took off for a half a yahren when he was 14. Starbuck was astounded. He couldn't imagine Apollo as an angry teenage run-away who managed to look after himself for months before his family tracked him down. "Why'd you run?" he'd asked.

Apollo had shrugged. "I don't know, the same reason any kid does. Feel like you'd be better off on your own."

"Where'd you go?"

"Half way around the planet before they caught me. I was in Jeru."

"How'd you survive?"

Hesitation. "I did what any other street kid did. Stole. Sold things."

He didn't say it, but Starbuck knew the 'things' he sold likely included himself.

"Were you glad when they found you?"

"Not at first," Apollo'd replied. "But later on, I was. I was sick when they found me, although I didn't know it. I would have died without treatment."

"And then, somehow, you became the person you are now."

"Yeah. Military school will do that, but maybe I always was this person and the street kid was only a persona. Genetics have to count for something."

"They sure do," Starbuck had replied, wanting to lighten the mood. "For one thing, I'm glad you look more like your mother than your father."

"I don't quite know how to take that…"

"Come here, beautiful, and let me show you…"

Starbuck rolled over, wanting to shut off his mind, but it seemed to be operating independantly, forcing him to relive conversations and sexual encounters. And his body was punishing him too, giving him an aching erection. He touched himself, bringing release, but it only heightened his loneliness. He rolled onto his side and curled up into a ball, like he used to on those long scary nights in the orphanage when he had no one to hold onto.

***

On his next shift, he was shocked to find Apollo sitting in the duty office. Starbuck looked at his timepiece, thinking somehow he'd screwed up the day.

"You're here at the right time," Apollo said. "Bojay's in sick bay, and I owe him a shift, so here I am."

Nervous, but excited, too, Starbuck sat down. They would have to talk to each other, but carefully, stick to neutral topics -

"I see you're a little behind in your reports," Apollo said testily. "You haven't filed anything in the last two days. Was there something else occupying your attention?"

Oh, so that's how it was going to be. Apollo nitpicking at him.

"Yeah, as a matter of fact, I was a little preoccupied," Starbuck replied, decided to take the offensive. "I was thinking about you, sir."

No reponse, save an irritated sigh. Sensing an opportunity, Starbuck got up and closed the door.

"Apollo," he said, when he'd turned around again, "I'm sorry about what I said. I've thought about nothing else since that awful moment. I was angry, but that's no excuse. It was heartless, and I deeply regret it."

"I know you do," Apollo replied evenly.

"And the words weren't even true. I just wanted to get back at you."

Silence. Then: "Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why would you want to get back at me? What did I do?"

Was that bothering him more than the actual words? The fact that Starbuck had so aggressively tried to wound him?

A bit stunned by this realization, Starbuck sank back into his chair. "You didn't do anything, Apollo. It's me. I don't know why I wreck things that make me happy, but I do. I'm surprised you were my friend for so long."

Another silence, then Starbuck asked: "Did you mean it when you said, 'I always knew you'd end up hurting me'?"

Apollo nodded. "Yeah."

"Oh. Well. I guess we were always doomed, then, weren't we?"

"Looks that way, yes."

***

Mercifully, Apollo was called to the Bridge shortly after that, and Starbuck passed the rest of the shift on his own. He wandered the troop decks, checked out the launch and landing bays, not talking to anyone, just immersed in his own thoughts. A great sadness gripped him. Talking with Apollo had resolved things, but in the opposite way to what he wanted. Now it really felt like their relationship, and friendship, was over. Starbuck had lost him. His own selfish, petty needs had done him in again.

"Hey!" Boomer called to him. Starbuck stopped, and waiting for him to catch up. "So… how're things going with Apollo today?"

Starbuck gazed at him suspiciously.

"Uh… How do you know Apollo's working?" he asked.

"Oh, I just might have done something to Bojay's dinner…"

"You poisoned his food? Are you nuts?"

"Not so loud, Bucko. It won't kill him, and don't tell me you haven't thought about doing it once or twice yourself. I figured maybe you and Apollo needed to spend a little time confined together, that's all."

"Well, forgive me if I'm not grateful."

"Oh," Boomer replied, disappointed. "You didn't talk?"

"We talked, Boom-boom, and came to the conclusion that we're better off without each other. At least I won't be wasting any more time hoping for a reconciliation, and maybe I owe you some thanks for that."

"Don't get pissed off at me," Boomer snapped. "Whatever happened between you two isn't my fault."

This stopped Starbuck short. "No," he agreed, the sadness returning. "You're right. It's mine."

"I wish there was something I could do."

"Nobody can get me out of trouble this time," Starbuck said. "I'll have to live with the consequences."

***

He missed the friendship even more than the sex. You don't realize how much you talk to someone until they're not around to listen, he thought. Everyone knew about the rift between them now, but they didn't know the cause. Jolly, Giles and Sheba all asked Starbuck what was going on. They knew better than to ask Apollo. And they weren't being nosy - not totally, anyway. They were concerned. A part of Starbuck wanted to tell them, but he knew it would only drive Apollo further away. The Captain could not stand being talked about. So Starbuck just kept repeating that it was between him and Apollo, and that's where it would stay.

A part of Starbuck also wanted to go after Apollo again. He carefully noted how Apollo treated him when they met, watching for any kind of sign, but Apollo just looked at him with bland indifference, calling him 'Leiutenant', making sure he said 'please' and 'thank you'. This was how Apollo treated new Officers he didn't know while assessing their capabilities. Neither warm nor cold, merely courteously. Starbuck the stranger. It was going to be a long, long trip.

Screw 'im! Starbuck would think sometimes, deciding to take up his old, decadent lifestyle. Would serve him right if I took up with that pretty servant…

But Starbuck didn't know the servant's name, and wasn't even sure he'd recognize him.

And it wasn't what he wanted, anyway. He'd changed. Despite what he did, he had changed during his time with Apollo. He'd suffered one, unfortunate, devastating lapse into his old ways, and he was determined not to let it happen again. How to convince Apollo of this, however, was entirely another matter.

Besides, nothing could be done until Apollo had forgiven him, and Starbuck knew that hadn't happened yet.

There was other common ground, however, that he could exploit. The Triad season was coming up. Their team was still entered, but they hadn't practiced. This gave birth to a new rumour that their split was some kind of ruse designed to mess with the wagering on the games. It was an interesting idea, Starbuck had to admit, and potentially beneficial… no, he couldn't think about gambling right now! His vices had a way of sneaking up on him and hijacking his best intentions.

He was due for a sleep period, but he knew Apollo would likely be having some dinner in the mess before his shift, so Starbuck headed there. Inside, he spotted Apollo at a table, alone, reading and eating. Starbuck marched right over and stood in front of him. The room got a little quiet when Apollo looked up.

"Yes?"

"Can I sit down, sir?"

Apollo knew they were being watched. His expression darkened. "All right."

"I want to talk about Triad," Starbuck said, leaning his elbows on the table.

"What about it?"

"Are we a team, or what?"

Apollo was genuinely surprised. "I hadn't really thought about it."

"Because we haven't had one practice, and we do have a reputation to protect."

Apollo looked at him for a few moments, thinking. Starbuck held his breath, hoping for this connection between them at least. He was counting on Apollo's ego and competitive nature to keep the team intact.

"You don't think it would be a little awkward?" he said, and Starbuck's hopes deflated slightly.

"Is there someone else you'd rather play with? Because I've had offers, you know."

"Feel free to take one."

Apollo picked up the datapad, resuming his reading.

"For fuck's sake!" Starbuck snapped, snatching the datapad away. "Will you listen to me for a micron?"

Apollo stared at him. The entire room stared at him.

"Are you finished?" Apollo asked, a dangerous edge to his tone.

"No! I don't want to break up the team, okay? There, I've said it. I don't like to lose, Apollo, and neither do you, so I'm not playing with anybody else. All right?"

Slowly, Apollo nodded. "All right."

Starbuck frowned. What did that mean?

"So - if I book the court for practice, you'll be there?" Starbuck asked, watching him closely.

"Yes."

"And I can, uh, leave you message about the time?"

"Okay."

Starbuck was a little unnerved by his apparent victory, and thought he'd better beat a hasty retreat before something happened to spoil it. He stood.

"Well, I'll try for tomorrow. Is that all right?"

"Tomorrow's fine."

"Okay, I'll see you tomorrow, then."

"Yeah."

Apollo smiled at him. Just a faint, amused smile, but Starbuck thought his heart would stop. It was all he could do not to throw himself on him. Instead, he felt his face getting hot, and he hurried away.

***

They didn't make love right away. Nothing occurred in the cargo bay where they first kissed, as neither one of them wanted that uninspired place to be made even more memorable. But finding a few spare centars to be together was difficult. Starbuck remembered them going over their schedules It was absurd and laughable. "You know, we could have done it by now," Starbuck had said at the end when they'd finally nailed down a date and time.

The night it did actually happen was about a week after their first kiss, not at all at the pre-appointed time. Starbuck was about to head out for a round of Pyramid. Apollo was supposed to be in a command meeting, but suddenly Starbuck's doorchime sounded, and there the Captain was, looking coy and sexy.

"My meeting was cancelled so I have about 4 free centars," he said, giving Starbuck a smoky glance. Any thoughts of playing Pyramid vanished. Instantly, they were in each other's arms, kissing deeply. Starbuck pushed Apollo's flight jacket off, kissing along his jaw to his neck.

"How far are we gonna go?" Starbuck whispered, wanting to make sure everything was all right.

Apollo's reply surprised the life out of him.

"I want you to fuck me, Starbuck," he said, and he slid his hands down over Starbuck's ass, touching him between his legs.

Starbuck had never heard Apollo be so crude, and it really turned him on. Nearly out of control, he stripped Apollo naked and pushed him onto the bed. Then Starbuck stripped down, joining his lover under the covers, revelling in the feel of skin against skin. Starbuck ran his tongue over Apollo's beautiful body, the one he'd coveted for so long. Suffocating, wet kisses left them breathless, as they played and explored until they couldn't take anymore.

"Now, Starbuck," Apollo groaned. "Please…"

Starbuck almost lost it just pushing inside. Face to face, he watched Apollo's eyes roll back in his head, felt his breath shuddering in and out of his lungs. Starbuck paused, concentrated, managed to hang on. He put his hand on Apollo's cock, but Apollo pushed it away, shaking his head.

"You look after your part," he said, smiling dreamily.

Starbuck began thrusting, his orgasm building quickly. Apollo stroked himself, muttering "Oh god oh god…" He came just before Starbuck, shooting onto his stomach. Starbuck came in the next instant, the force of his orgasm making him dizzy. He collapsed on top of Apollo, sweat and semen mixing together, and he kissed his lover one last time before rolling over beside him on the bed.

They dosed for a while. Starbuck actually fell asleep, was awakened by a strange but pleasant sensation on his chest. It was Apollo, licking one of his nipples. His erection pressed against Starbuck's thighs. Obviously, the Captain was raring to go again.

Apollo pushed Starbuck onto his back. Starbuck had assumed that Apollo would be a shy lover, but here he was completely taking charge. Not that Starbuck was complaining…

Apollo sucked him. With lips, teeth and tongue, he exerted exquisite pressure on Starbuck's cock, sending tremors of excitement through the Lieutenant. Starbuck watched that dark head moving up and down on him, and it seemed so unreal. He'd fantasized about this for months, fantasized that Apollo would come into his quarters while he was asleep and wake him up just like this. He groaned and came in Apollo's mouth. Apollo licked him clean, then kissed him.

"You taste good," Apollo whispered. "My turn, now. On your stomach."

In a daze, Starbuck complied. He shuddered as slick fingers entered him, stretching and caressing him. He felt his cock hardening again as Apollo stroked his prostrate. Then, something much larger than fingers pushed inside. Starbuck gritted his teeth against the searing sensation, waiting for it to subside. Apollo's weight pinned him to the mattress, he felt a quick kiss between his shoulder blades, then Apollo began thrusting. Starbuck got harder. He put his hand under him, wanting to come again. Apollo pounded in and out, Starbuck matching the rhythm with his hand, the pressure steadily increasing. He did come a third time. It was small, but made him cry out at the same time as Apollo, who held himself deep inside, shaking from his orgasm.

They didn't talk afterwards, just lay there looking at each other. Interfering with Starbuck's blissful state was a touch of fear, however. He was in over his head. The depth of his feelings for Apollo made him anxious. If Apollo felt the same thing, his calm green eyes didn't show it. He smiled, touched Starbuck's face.

"What took us so long?" Apollo asked quietly.

***

Starbuck had thought about that first time a lot, especially since the break up. Was his fear a harbinger? Did he let it control him so that he made sure he ruined things? He knew it was useless to think about it, but couldn't keep that night from his mind. Even now, as he waited for Apollo in the rec center, it plagued him.

His thoughts were mercifully interupted by shouts from the others, greeting their Captain, and Apollo's hearty replies.

He's in a good mood, then, Starbuck thought, taking that as another positive sign.

Apollo appeared, lugging a bag of Triad gear, and frowned a little upon seeing Starbuck waiting outside the locker room for him.

"Is there a problem?" he asked.

"No," Starbuck replied.

Apollo brushed by him and into the locker room. He paused to read the Triad schedule, wanting to see who their first opponents were.

"A couple of nobodies," Starbuck said. "Trent and Gains are first up. I figure we can coast until the third match, when we might get some real competition."

"Uh-huh."

They changed silently, Starbuck making sure not to look in Apollo's direction, lest the Captain misinterpret the action. The atmosphere was undeniably cold, Apollo completely ignoring him. Usually, they'd talk about the schedule, talk about past matches, tease each other about boneheaded moves and mistakes made during previous games. Now, there was only a sense of obligation. They were going through the motions because they had to.

Or, at least, Apollo was.

"Are you doing this just so you can torture me?" Starbuck asked suddenly.

"What?"

"Well, you've said exactly… five words to me. Four, actually, because I don't think 'uh-huh' is a word. Do you plan on talking to me, or should we start using sign language?"

"I don't want you to get the wrong impression," Apollo said quietly.

"What do you mean?"

"I'm only here to play Triad, not for conversation. I'm your teamate, not your friend."

That hurt Starbuck. It surprised him how much it hurt.

"Oh," he said, quickly covering up his feelings. "Well, now that we have that straight, shall we go to the court, sir?"

The practice was terrible, half-hearted on both their parts. Nothing was said afterwards, either. Apollo quickly showered and dressed, and Starbuck did nothing to delay him. This was a bad idea, he was realizing. Trent and Gains were in line to score an upset

***

Game day. Starbuck wandered into the locker room late, really not giving a shit, so Apollo's vitriolic reaction to his tardiness caught him completely by surprise.

"Where've you been?" Apollo demanded. "The match starts in five centons!"

"Surprised you noticed I was missing. Sir."

"Knock it off."

"What, sir?"

"The 'sir' thing. It's getting on my nerves."

"Well, then, I don't know what to do. I follow protocol, I get shit for it, I don't, I get more shit."

Apollo looked like he had more to say, but controlled himself. "Just get changed," he snapped, walking away.

How to describe the match… Starbuck thought about it afterwards in the OC, nursing his injuries with a steady supply of alcohol. They won, but it was messy. Both of them – Apollo especially – had decided to use the game to essentially beat on each other, working out some of their frustrations physically. Starbuck should have known it was coming. Right from the beginning scrum, Apollo glared at him instead of their opponents.

It was nothing obvious. They didn't start brawling in the middle of the court, just some subtle misplays. Apollo would look like he'd misread the action, getting right in Starbuck's way and sending him sprawling. A couple of times, once most definitely on purpose, Apollo had elbowed him hard in the ribs. And every time Starbuck ended up on the floor, Apollo would look down at him with a smug expression on his face.

"What the fuck are you doing?" Starbuck snapped at him once.

Apollo just gave him that same faint amused smile like in the mess. This time, however, it only infuriated Starbuck.

So, he began retaliating, just as subtly, and a few times he saw Trent and Gains looking at each other, more than a little puzzled by their game strategy. It was invigorating and exhausting at the same time. No one should have to watch for their partner attacking them.

Still, they were so in tune with each other, that they knew intuitively when to lay off and play properly, scoring enough to ensure a victory.

Boomer joined him at his table. He said nothing, just stared at Starbuck, until Starbuck slammed his drink down.

"What?"

"You want to tell me what the hell was going on out there?" Boomer replied.

"A Triad match."

"Maybe to the blind, uninformed viewer."

Starbuck sighed, giving up. "Was it that obvious?"

"Gods, Starbuck, I was expecting Security to drag you both out in handcuffs. You know Apollo's up talking the the Commander right now?"

"Really?"

"Yeah. I hear he was a little disturbed by it."

"Oh, great." Pause. "Well, he started it."

Boomer shook his head. "Maybe you guys ought to drop out this season."

"Not a chance."

"You don't really think this'll force some kind of reconcilliation, do you?"

"I got nothin' to lose, Boom-boom."

"Except all your teeth. I think he was aiming at your head a couple times. Listen to me, Bucko. You should just leave Apollo alone for a while." Starbuck emptied his glass, pushed it across the table at Boomer.

"Get me another drink," he said. "I can still feel all my wounds."

***

Apollo came into the OC a little later, expression like a thundercloud waiting to burst. Starbuck swallowed nervously as the Captain marched towards him. Boomer, the coward, swiftly abandoned ship, disappearing into the safety of the crowd at the bar, leaving Starbuck to fend for himself.

Apollo sat down and folded his arms across his chest.

"I have been told," he said, "that we must behave ourselves on the Triad Court or not play this season."

"Was he really pissed off?"

"Yeah, about the decorum of it, not about any injuries we might inflict on each other." Apollo sighed, shook his head. "He hasn't watched a Triad match in 2 yahrens and then he chooses to watch this one. The fates are cruel."

"Amen to that." Starbuck paused, watching Apollo out of the corner of his eye. "So, what do you think?"

"I don't know. To tell you the truth, Starbuck, I'm not sorry about anything that happened out there, and that's not good. I'm still pretty angry, so maybe we need more distance between each other."

"You want to drop out?"

Apollo hesitated, glanced at Starbuck, then away. "Yeah."

"You're determined to punish me, aren't you?"

"It's not punishment. I didn't want this. I was happy."

Pain in those green eyes. Starbuck had to look away. He studied his hands, thinking.

"All right," he said, his throat tightening. "You want distance, you'll get it."

"I'm sorry about the loss of the season. I should have said 'no' before."

"Please don't apologize. Fuck…" Starbuck trailed off, not swearing at Apollo, but at himself and at this awful situation he'd created.

"I'm gonna go now," Apollo said.

"Bye," Starbuck replied, not looking up.

***

Their withdrawl from the Triad season caused another minor scandal, and Starbuck had to field more questions about it and what was going on between him and Apollo. His replies got more and more surly until they all left him alone. He especially resented the fact that everybody assumed it was his fault, whatever had happened. It was the way they phrased the questions. Starbuck was learning far too much about how the others perceived him, and he didn't like it.

He concentrated on his duties, spent his free time playing cards and drinking in the OC, just like he used to. His life, in most respects, returned to normal, only now he functioned in what felt like a depressive haze. It was not fun, not any of it. It only emphasized what he was missing. He'd never felt so alone.

The red alert – the first one in months – was almost a relief.

Out of nowhere, the Cylons had suddenly appeared. Seven hundred fighters were bearing down on the Fleet. Obviously, they'd been trailing out of sensor range, building up their forces. The fight was going to be a bad one, and Starbuck glanced around at the other pilots in the launch bay, knowing he was looking at some of their faces for the last time. He even caught sight of Apollo, headset on, taking final instructions from the Bridge.

Later, Starbuck would obsess on that moment, thinking he should have done something, should have gone over to Apollo and spoken to him, but he didn't. He just climbed into his Viper and headed out to the battle, like any good soldier.

No one knew what actually happened to Apollo. No one saw him get hit, no one saw him go down, which wasn't surprising given the mayhem the Galactica pilots found themselves in. Eighty-nine of 250 Vipers were destroyed outright, another 65 took heavy damage, their injured pilots in the lifecentre. The Cylons were everywhere, their resources seemingly limitless, throwing wave after wave of fighters at the Fleet, and the Galactica ranks dissolved into chaos. It was virtually every man for himself, and when it was over, the enemy driven off once again, the surviving pilots climbed out of their ships in states of deep shock.

Then, the losses. No Fleet ships, thank the gods, but too many pilots.

Starbuck had looked for Apollo, hadn't seen him, but wasn't particularly worried as the Captain could already be on the Bridge, or still out rounding up stragglers. When his name appeared on the casualty list, Starbuck skipped over it, like his mind refused to read and accept what was so plainly written. Others saw it, though.

"Oh my god, not Apollo," he heard Sheba murmur behind him.

"He's just missing," Starbuck heard himself reply, desperately wanting to believe that.

But the search teams turned up nothing save some scattered debris from Apollo's last known position. It was matched to Apollo's ship, and they all knew.

***

"Can I walk you home?" Boomer asked softly as the senior officers left an intensely painful debriefing with Colonel Tigh.

Starbuck nodded.

"Some of us are going down to the OC for a quick drink to the dead, but I didn't think you'd want to come," Boomer said.

"No."

"I'm sorry, Bucko."

"Me, too."

Tears flooded Starbuck's eyes. Boomer gently took his arm and guided him to the turbolift. Arm around Starbuck's shoulders, they silently rode up four decks, thankfully meeting no one. Starbuck's hand shook as he punched in the code to open his quarters, and once inside he immediately turned to Boomer, needing to be comforted. He cried so hard he could barely breathe. Boomer held him tight, shedding some tears of his own.

***

It had been their worst day since the Great Destruction, sharp new grief piled on top of the old. Each time they suffered this way, hope was harder to find again. The human will, the human heart, could only take so much. They were all nearing the breaking point.

Starbuck existed in a dead place. Beyond the intial weeping, he'd had no time to mourn properly; the Fleet remained on high alert as the remaining pilots struggled to carry on. It was a welcome distraction, and Starbuck managed to banish most of his grief from his mind, but one thought haunted him and would not leave him no matter what was going on:

Apollo died angry and hurt, and it was all Starbuck's fault.

Starbuck could see him standing in the launch bay, remembered thinking to himself that maybe he should say something, should make some kind of concilliatory effort…

How could I just turn away? he asked himself. How could I?

The troops were exhausted and demoralized. Very dark jokes about their fate were making the rounds of the squadrons. They were all convinced that that Cylon assualt was merely the first, there was another one coming. That one was to assess their capabilities and weaken them. Just out of sensor range, death stalked the last of humanity.

Adama stayed on the Bridge, barking orders at them through the comm system. Everyone could hear the strain in the Commander's voice. Even at the time of the Great Destruction he hadn't sounded so pained, so … weak. That was just as frightening, the thought that Adama might collapse. Everyone knew how close he and Apollo were. Depite the respectful professional distance the two men kept between each other, no one doubted that Adama loved his son.

No one doubted that Starbuck had loved him, either, even though something had driven them apart. They knew he was hurting worse than the rest of them, could read the mix of sadness, guilt and remorse plainly on his face.

The Fleet fled across the stars, watching for the enemy, checking every anomalous reading picked up by the sensors. Five centars, eight, twelve, fifteen – and no attack, no sign of pursuit. Was it possible they'd managed to slip away again?

***

Starbuck lay on his bed trying to sleep. He'd been on continuous patrol for the last 10 centars, was jittery in the cockpit, expecting to see a wave of fighters showing up on his scanner at any moment. He'd decided while out there, should a second attack come, he'd fight well until he saw the Cylons starting to run, let he'd let one of them hit him, put himself right in the middle of their target lock. It was a death fantasy that afflicted many combat pilots, born from fatigue and depression. Usually it didn't last past the next good night's sleep…

But Starbuck knew he wouldn't be sleeping.

When he closed his eyes, he saw Apollo. He curled up on his side, tears running down his face, dampening his pillow. Gods, he never cried this much when he was a kid – but then, he didn't have anything to cry over. He didn't have anybody.

His door chime sounded. He ignored it, figuring it was probably Boomer come to check on him. He'd go away if Starbuck didn't answer.

It sounded again.

"Go away, Boom-boom," Starbuck whispered.

Knocking now. Insistant knocking, and a voice.

"Starbuck? Starbuck, it's Cassie. I have to talk to you!"

Cassie? What the hell did she want?

"Please, Starbuck. Let me in!"

Starbuck sat up, wiping his face with his bed covering.

"Starbuck!!"

"Okay, okay, I hear you. Come in."

He touched a lamp by his bed, and soft light filled the room. Cassie came right over, knelt before him on the floor and grabbed his hands. She seemed to be a bit out of breath, like she'd run the whole way here.

"Ensign Reager," she said. "You know him?"

Starbuck nodded. "Yeah."

"He's in sick bay, was badly wounded during the battle. He's been unconcious since he came in, but he just woke up, and the first thing he said was: 'Did they find the Captain?'"

"W-What?"

"Reager's weak, Starbuck, and he had a bad head injury, so he was a little confused, but he told me that he and Apollo got caught in sector" – she paused, searched her pockets and pulled out a medical notepad – "sector delta-54.93. I wrote it down. They both got hit, and Apollo couldn't control his ship, was last seen heading towards a small planet. He saw Apollo go into the atmosphere."

"What planet?"

"I don't know. Is there one in that sector?"

Starbuck shook his head. "I don't know." He was frozen for a moment, stunned by Cassie's news. "I've got to see the Commander. Apollo's alive."

"I hope so."

Starbuck got to his feet and pulled Cassie up, crushing her in a huge hug. Despite their rocky past and bitter break-up, they still cared for each other. Starbuck had never felt so close to her as at that very moment.

"Thank you," he said thickly.

"I'll pray that you find him," she replied, then added: "I always knew it was him, you know."

Starbuck pulled back and looked at her, startled.

"You would always do anything for him," she continued, "more than you'd do for anyone else."

"Cass—"

"It's not an accusation, Starbuck, or a comment on you and me. It was where your heart led you. Now, get going."

He kissed her, then hurried out the door.

***

Adama listened carefully, his gaze focussed on the shiny dark surface of the Briefing Room table. His hands were folded neatly before him, and his expression was ashen. He'd visibly aged in only one day.

"So, you have to let me go back, sir. Please," Starbuck finished.

Adama let out a long, tired sigh. One more choice he had to make, one more decision… He wouldn't look at Starbuck. The Lieutenant's face would undoubtably sway him in the wrong direction, towards sentiment. Starbuck and Apollo had been close friends for a very long time, although something had happened recently to drive them apart. Yes, Adama remembered the disgraceful Triad match, remembered having harsh words with Apollo about it. Perhaps he should have just asked what was wrong…

"Sir!" Starbuck said, rousing Adama from his thoughts.

"It's not safe, Lieutenant. We have every reason to believe there is a Cylon task force behind us."

"Give me one armoured troop carrier, and I can get around 'em. Sir."

"I admire your bravado, and certainly understand your need to believe this story –"

"Commander, we can both go to sick bay and talk to Reager right now," Starbuck interrupted, "if you don't trust Cassie's word."

"It isn't a matter of trust. It's a matter of the safety of everyone in this Fleet. As things stand, we do not have enough pilots for defence, and I certainly cannot spare a good one, such as yourself."

Silence. Adama took a chance and glanced up. Starbuck was thinking furiously, trying to come up with something to say. Then, abruptly, his expression crumpled and he put his hand over his eyes. Adama had to look away, but when Starbuck spoke, his voice was steady.

"I love your son, sir," the Lieutenant said. "As much as you do. Apollo and I were… closer than you probably knew. But I screwed that up and he was very angry with me." There was a long pause. "I don't even know why I'm telling you this," Starbuck continued. "It's not going to change your mind. You never let emotion play a role."

"Because I can't," Adama replied.

"Well, how about this, then? You and I both know that if there's one man in the Fleet who's not expendable, it's Apollo. We need him, and if there's a chance he's alive back there, we should damn well try to find him!"

Adama didn't respond, just frowned down at the table top.

"You've got badly demoralized troops below you, Commander. Bringing Apollo back is the best way to cure that. We're leaderless down there, defeat is a given with the state we're all in. And, quite frankly, if another attack comes, me being here or not won't make any difference. I'm only one pilot. Don't put too much stake in my supposed abilities."

Still no reply.

"Apollo makes all his decisions based on emotion," Starbuck said. "So far, that tactic has served him well."

Adama was wavering, but he couldn't quite bring himself to give in. Two sons and a wife lost, sacrificed to this endless conflict. He'd always been rigid when it came to decisions that affected his family, and where had it gotten them? The people he loved most kept dying. So, perhaps the Lieutenant was right, perhaps a change in tactics was needed.

"All right, Lieutenant," he said. "Show me the star charts for sector delta-54.93."

***

"Are you prepared to find nothing?" Boomer asked from the door of the troop carrier. "Or worse, find something you don't want to find?"

Starbuck was hurrying through his systems check. Every micron that passed, Apollo was farther away.

"Did you hear me?"

"Yes, I heard you! I'm busy!"

Boomer sat down in the other pilot's chair, began checking his side of the board.

"What're you doing?" Starbuck asked.

"Just helping you. You want to get out of here in the next 5 centons, don't you?"

They worked silently until the flight check was completed. Then Boomer looked at Starbuck and laid a hand on his shoulder.

"Be careful, okay?" he said. "I don't want to lose two of my best friends today."

"I will. And I'll bring back the one that's missing."

Boomer looked doubtful, but nodded. "I'd like nothing better," he said.

"Just make sure the Fleet's still here when I return."

"I'll tell everybody where you've gone. That'll fire 'em up if nothing else will. Be seeing you, Bucko."

"Yeah, you will."

***

Starbuck was running on a mix of adrenaline and pharmaceuticals. There was no time to sleep, but too much time to think. He didn't know what he'd do if he couldn't find Apollo, or found only his remains. The journey back to the Fleet would be terrible and long, the worst flight of his life…

If there was a Fleet to return to. Maybe he'd find burning hulks –

"Stop that," he said to himself.

He was feeling paranoid, a side effect of the stims coursing through his body, no doubt. And the longer he was awake, the worse it would get. But could he risk trying to sleep as he slipped back into enemy territory? He looked at the control panel, the sensors set at maximum, scanning for absolutely anything that moved or gave off a signal. The alarms were certainly loud enough to wake him, and he'd have several centons, depending on the speed of the other object, to react.

"I need to be clear-headed," he muttered. "And, I need to stop talking to myself."

He concentrated on Apollo's face, closing his eyes and pulling up a clear image: green eyes and wide smile, high cheek bones, glossy dark hair. But that just upset him, so he had to stop.

Starbuck leaned back in his chair and stared dully out at the starfield. Gradually, his eyes drifted closed, and he dosed.

***

Sunlight on his face. Starbuck opened his eyes, squinting against the brightness. Long grasses waved over his head. He was lying on his back in a field. The sky above was a cloudless blue.

He knew where he was. He got to his feet, and a short distance away he could see the children's home he grew up in, and, surrounding it, the crops he and the others had tended. Gods, he'd hated farm work. It was why he'd jumped at the chance to join the military, even though everyone had told him he'd just end up dead. But he'd always viewed this as indentured slavery: up at dawn, in bed at dusk, and in between, nothing but manual labour. Sure, there was machinery, but this children's home was for the more troubled orphans, and hard work was seen as their salvation. In the evening, there was minimal schooling. Starbuck couldn't read until he was nearly 10 yahrens old. And even now, writing and reading reports made him anxious, as he remembered his struggle to learn, and how the others had mercilessly teased him about it.

Starbuck walked towards the main building, where all the children lived in 4 large rooms filled with rows of beds. He climbed the few stairs to the front door, and, seeing it was slightly open, stepped inside. This was the kitchen: three long tables, cooking & storage area at the back. Behind this room was a large communal washroom, like on the troop decks of the Galactica. To his right, a wide staircase went up to the second floor.

The place was abandoned. Dirt, grime and dust covered every surface. Some of the windows were broken, Starbuck noticed. Outside, towards the farm buildings, he could see bits of equipment, twisted and blackened, like they'd been burned. Crops grew in the fields, but wildly, untended, like everyone had left part way through the growing season.

Starbuck walked across the room, his footsteps making no sound, as if he was a ghost. A noise from the washroom attracted him, and he went through the kitchen into the tiled room. Stalls with turbo flushes were on his right, sinks to his left, straight ahead, the showers. He saw the boy, then. A fair-haired boy, about 10 yahrens old, sitting on the floor with his knees drawn up, way at the end of the row of showers. Starbuck walked towards him, and the boy looked up. Sharp blue eyes, thick blond hair – Starbuck realized with a shock that he was looking at himself. They stared at each other.

"Why'd you come back?" the boy asked. "Everybody's gone."

"Except you," Starbuck replied.

"I don't want to be here, but you won't let me leave."

Silence for a moment, then the boy said: "It's lonely here."

Starbuck nodded. "Same with where I am now."

"Probably your fault. Maya says everything that happens to me here is my fault, too."

Maya, head matron of this place. Big woman with a tired face, loving enough in her heavy-handed way.

"This place is gonna burn," the boy said. "The Cylons are coming, and we're all gonna die."

"Not all of us."

"Yeah, all of us. It's over. And I'm glad."

In the distance, there was a sound – like an alarm of some sort. It rang over the silent hills, an alien noise in this place.

"Here they come," the boy said.

***

Starbuck awoke with a start. The control panel was lighting up like a fireworks display. He shut off the alarm and checked the scanner, his heart thumping. Two big ships, moving along the same vector as the Fleet. Even before the computer identified them, he knew they were Cylon Baseships. He checked the distance between them and the Fleet. At their present rate of speed, they'd reach the Fleet in 5 centars. They weren't in a great hurry. If Starbuck turned around right now, he could beat them back, he could warn the Fleet.

But then any chance to find Apollo would be lost.

What's my mission, he asked himself. What's my priority?

He knew what Apollo would say. Apollo would say 'the Fleet', and turn this ship around without hesitation. He'd done it before, after all.

And he'd paid for it for yahrens afterwards, wondering if there was something else he could have done.

But this situation wasn't quite the same. They were expecting the enemy, were looking for them. The only thing Starbuck could do would be to tell them how many Baseships. It was undoubtably important information, perhaps, some would argue, vital. Command had already guessed there were at least two, and were planning for that. So maybe Starbuck could keep going.

He wanted to keep going. It was supremely selfish, and he wouldn't be surprised to find himself in one of the seven hells upon his death because of it, but he made his decision, and said a silent prayer for the Fleet. He transferred more power to the engines, and sped towards sector delta-54.93.

***

The starcharts had shown two planets, and with careful questioning of Reager, Starbuck and Adama had deduced which one Apollo might be on. Starbuck had time to check only one, and even then, it would be quick. The Commander was expecting him back. They needed a miracle – two actually, Starbuck amended, thinking about the Baseships tailing the Fleet.

As he approached the planet, he scanned for an emergency beacon signal from Apollo's ship, but found nothing. That didn't mean a signal wasn't being sent, however. This planet was a place of violent storms, with intense electrical activity in the atmosphere. Starbuck would have to get close to the surface for the scanner to be effective, a dangerous proposition given the hurricane force winds.

And what would that mean for a Viper? They weren't meant to fly in a planet's atmosphere, especially a stormy one.

But if Apollo had ended up on the other planet, he would be dead. There was no breathable atmosphere, and the Viper's life support would have run out of air long ago. In fact, if Reager had indicated the other one, Starbuck wouldn't be here. Even he would have been forced to admit that Apollo couldn't have survived.

He scanned the planet for a stable area where he could ease the ship into the atmosphere. At the south pole, the winds were manageable, and he brought the carrier down, watching fingers of fire play over the front viewport. From the upper atmosphere, the planet looked deceptively calm. Far below was a uniform grey sea, placid and stretching to the horizon. Ships instruments knew better, however. Warning lights flashed, and the computer chattered away, warning Starbuck of changing conditions and dangerous electrical charges all around him.

The computer protested when he took the ship lower, but he ignored it. He programmed in a search pattern, bypassing the most violent areas, hoping Apollo's signal would register before too long.

For a very tense three centars he scanned the planet, the carrier being buffeted, having to fly blind because of dense cloud cover or rain, relying solely on his instruments. The storms shifted, it was a constant battle not to get caught in one, but somehow, his 'Starbuck Luck' held, and the carrier was not suddenly sent hurtling to the ground, like he half-expected.

"Come on, Apollo, where are you?" he muttered.

At varying intervals, he saw dense jungle below him, the planet able to support life despite the weather. Perhaps it wasn't like this all the time, but a season of storms, like they used to have in certain areas on Caprica. Starbuck checked his chronometer. He didn't have much more time. And maybe the battle was already underway. Maybe the others were already cursing his absence, wondering why he wasn't sentenced to death like the rest of them.

Starbuck stared at the scanner, as if willing a signal to appear.

Give me a reason to keep going, he said silently. Show me I've made the right choice.

As if in answer, a light appeared on the scanner screen, then vanished. Starbuck sat forward, wondering if he'd imagined it, and when it didn't reappear, he sat back again and rubbed his tired eyes. The computer warned him about the path of another storm, changing course automatically. Starbuck didn't know what else to do. He couldn't just land. He had no idea where Apollo might have come down.

"Goddammit, Apollo, don't you fucking do this to me…"

Nothing.

"I came all the way back here, risking my life and everybody else's, just for you, so you can bloody well tell me where you are!"

Still nothing. Starbuck looked at the time, he was down to his last five centons, then he could either head back, or crash the carrier into the jungle and say to hell with all of it. I don't care. He thought about the boy in the dream.

"It is my fault, Apollo. It's all my fault, and I'm sorry."

He closed his eyes and counted to ten, knowing full well that, in the end, he'd turn the ship around and head for home. Suicide wasn't his style.

"…eight, nine… ten."

Defeat. He set the controls to exit the atmosphere –

There it was again, a blip on the scanner, and an accompanying audio warning from the computer. It wasn't his imagination.

"Computer, analyze!"

"Colonial Viper emergency beacon signal," the machine replied.

An EBS!!! "Take me to it!"

***

Landing made Starbuck feel seasick. Updrafts and downdrafts, he had to ride them carefully, fighting the wind to land on a clear patch of ground. Finally down, he shut off the engines. The howling of the wind was deafening, and rain lashed the carrier, the downpour so heavy, he couldn't see out the viewport. According to the scanner, Apollo's ship was less than 30 metrics away, but he'd never find it in this maelstrom. He'd have to force himself to wait for the weather to let up a bit. It was hard to be patient. He paced up and down the carrier. Once, he did crack the door open, getting soaked as water poured in. On his communicator, he got only static.

Finally, the storm died down enough that he thought he could risk going outside. Survival pack on his back, he stepped out onto the wet ground. The air smelled of rich, dark soil, reminding him instantly of the fields around the children's home after good day's rain.

Starbuck set off across the clearing, feeling water seep into his boots. The going was not as difficult as he'd anticipated. The jungle looked dense from the air, but on the ground, the great trees were far apart, their canopies grown together overhead. It was dark. Starbuck jumped at every sound, shining his torch into the shadows. Ahead, something shiny reflected back at him, and he knew it was Apollo's ship. He hurried forward, faltering only when he saw its condition.

It had shattered on impact. What Starbuck found was a great hole in the canopy above, and scattered wreckage all around him. The emergency beacon was built to withstand this sort of impact, which was why he'd picked up a signal. His torch had found a large engine section, the only bit remotely intact. The rest was in pieces not much bigger than his hand.

It was raining harder again. Starbuck walked through the crash site, looking for evidence of the pilot's survival or death. He wanted something to take back with him.

The wreckage left a trail, and he followed the path of torn earth. It was like a section of the ship had continued on, having separated from the engines. Of course! He nearly smacked himself on the forehead. The cockpit was designed to separate, to get the pilot as far away from the engines and fuel as possible. Starbuck ran towards a new reflection in the deep shadows, and his heart skipped when he found the cockpit. It was scorched and crumpled, had landed up against a massive tree, the canopy was shattered, but, he thought to himself, looking inside, a pilot might have survived it. And then he saw Apollo's helmet on the ground, like he'd dropped it there when he climbed out.

"APOLLO!!" Starbuck yelled, shining his light into the shadows.

The wind was picking up. Above him, the trees swayed, branches rubbing together so that the forest seemed to moan.

He'd have to find shelter, Starbuck thought. Or else he's just lying in the mud somewhere.

He put on his headset again and activated it. He started searching the trees on the same side as the helmet, constantly calling Apollo through the headset. He was soaking wet and cold. His head hurt from fatigue, the pack across his back felt like it was full of stones.

"Apollo, please, if you can hear me, you've got to answer."

Trees, trees, and more trees. Starbuck couldn't see anything that might serve as shelter.

"Apollo, you've got to help me. I can't find you by myself."

Did he even know Apollo had his comm? Starbuck stopped. He hadn't seen the emergency pack in the cockpit. If Apollo had that with him, he had his comm.

"Apollo, I know you're probably injured, but you have to answer me!"

Starbuck heard a faint click through the headset. He strained, trying to filter out the noise of the wind and the trees, and through the static he thought he heard breathing. Laboured breathing.

"Apollo, is that you?"

"H-H-Here," came the reply, a bare whisper.

"Which side of your ship are you on? Facing forward, are you to the left or to the right?"

There was only static for a reply.

"Apollo – left or right? Which one?"

"R-Right…"

Wrong side. He was on the wrong side. Starbuck ran back and past the cockpit, the wind and rain driving against him. A little ways into the trees, he saw a rocky outcropping ahead him. There were openings, like caves, and he shone his light into each one. No Apollo. And no response through the comm now. Fighting down panic, he checked the openings again. One of them, he saw, went farther back than he'd first realized, and he ducked down, scrambling inside. The cave curved a bit, and he looked around the bend, his torch finding a man spralled on his side, headset in front of his face.

"Apollo!"

Starbuck hurried over and felt for a pulse. It was weak, but Apollo was alive. The front of his uniform was stained darkly. Blood. Carefully Starbuck pulled back his flight jacket, and immediately saw the cause. A piece of the cockpit had pierced Apollo just under the rib cage. His lips were split and swollen, his eyes both blackened. One leg was burned, the flesh an ugly red. It was bad, but Starbuck forced himself to remain calm, getting out the medikit and doing what he could, well aware that Apollo wouldn't last much longer without extensive treatment. Starbuck had to get him back to the Fleet.

Starbuck bent down and kissed him on the forehead.

"Hang on, Apollo, I'm taking you home," he whispered.

Out of his pack, he retrieved what looked like a bunch of thin metal tubes attached to grey canvass. It was a litter that Cassie'd had the foresight to give him, in case Apollo couldn't walk. Starbuck snapped it together, then spent a moment fretting about moving Apollo, that possibly it would worsen his injuries. Quickly, he snapped out of it, however. Apollo would die if he wasn't moved. There was no choice. Carefully, Starbuck shifted him aboard, and picked up one end. It was going to be quite a dash through the storm, but he felt a new surge of energy, and had no doubt he'd make it.

***

The journey back was harrowing, Starbuck torn between watching for the Cylons, and being terrified that Apollo was going to die on him. For long stretches, he sat by Apollo, holding his hand, listening to his ragged, shallow breathing. Apollo was on the floor of the carrier, still on the litter. Starbuck didn't see the point in trying to lift him up onto anything. Cassie had given him more medical supplies, but he was leery about using them. He had used, however, hypospray of coagulant, certain that Apollo was bleeding internally.

Beyond that, Starbuck had cleaned him up a little, gently wiping his face, getting the blood out of his hair. And he talked, wanting to fill the tense silence, hoping that somehow Apollo would hear him.

The dream was still very much with him, so he told Apollo the story of his life, things he'd never spoken of before, like his memories of the attack that killed his family. He was a toddler, but the memory of his house on fire and someone calling his name -- *Gabriel! Gabriel! * -- was still clear. Yes, Starbuck knew his real name, but had let go of it, like he had so many other things. He'd grown into his new persona and was used to it now. With Apollo, though, he felt like he was more of a real person. It was difficult to explain, but he felt like he'd…well… found himself, or found who he might have been, had circimstances been different. With Apollo, he was more Gabriel than Starbuck, except, of course for that idiotic lapse in judgement that had cost him so much.

"Of course I'm just guessing," Starbuck said. "Maybe my family was totally fucked up and I would've turned out worse. But, I think I still would've wanted to be with you. I still would've loved you."

No response. Apollo's pulse was getting weaker and more irregular, and Starbuck once more went through the case of supplies Cassie had given him. He didn't know what to do. He was tired and afraid, throbbing pain at his temples. He'd had no sleep for over two days and his hands shook now from fatigue. But then he saw the small disk he'd ignored before. He knew what it was: it was for stabilizing irregular heartbeats, and, in the case of arrest, it could keep the heart going through administering small electrical charges. Starbuck turned to Apollo, ready to use it, then stopped.

Wait, he thought, there's something else I have to do with this…

Something about breathing… He closed his eyes, concentrating, then suddenly heard Cassie's voice: "It might disrupt autonomic functions, therefore the patient has to be ventilated too…"

"Oh my god," he muttered, "I'll be able to keep him alive. Apollo, you're gonna make it!"

***

The scanners saw the battle when the carrier was still far away. Starbuck came to a full stop and just watched for a few centons, trying to figure out what was going on. All he could see was Vipers and Raiders, no Fleet, no Baseships. There were several possible reasons for this: the Baseships could be hiding, waiting for an opportunity; the Vipers could have driven them off, and engaged the Raiders on their way back; or, the Fleet was running, abandoning her warriors, two Baseships in close pursuit, picking off the slower ships.

Starbuck glanced back at Apollo, who still lay quietly. He knew that the blue disk and ventilator had pretty much taken over and were keeping Apollo alive. He looked terrible, seemed to grow more unrecognizable by the moment as the bruising deepened. His abdomen was swollen too, as blood filled him up inside. Starbuck had no choice. He had to find the Galactica.

The carrier had its own laser cannons, and the hull could withstand several direct hits. He wasn't worried about maneouvring through the battle. It was finding the Fleet that was the problem. It was getting one of the pilots to tell him where the Fleet was, without the Cylons picking up on it. He moved towards the battle, and was soon hailed by Boomer.

"Bucko – that you?"

"Yeah, Boom-boom. What's happening?"

"You got the Captain?"

"I do. But I gotta get him to sick bay."

Silence. Starbuck could see the fighting now out the front viewport.

"Stand by, Bucko," Boomer said finally. "Stay back. I'm comin' your way."

"What's going on?"

"Trouble, old buddy. Big trouble. Boomer out."

Again Starbuck stopped and waited, hypnotized by the flashes of laser fire against black space. This must be what it's like from the Bridge, he thought. This must be what you see.

A ship came towards him, and the scanner identified it as Colonial. Starbuck saw the hull was singed along the left side when Boomer turned his Viper.

"Scanner off, follow me, visual only. Communications silence, starting now," Boomer said.

They moved away from the fighting, Starbuck watching the flare of Boomer's engines ahead of him. So, the Fleet was hiding somewhere. That'd be the reason for no scanners – the Cylons could pick up those signals. But then, they wouldn't know they were being followed, either, unless…

Unless they were heading into dead space, into a black area where all radiant noise and energy was absorbed. The Cylons would be able to follow them that far, but unless they knew the exact position of the Fleet, they wouldn't find it without a visual on the two lead ships. And, if the Cylons could see them, they'd see the Cylons.

Starbuck couldn't even risk turning around to check on Apollo, he had to keep his eyes locked on Boomer's engines. He strained to hear the sound of the ventilator, prayed it wouldn't be too much longer…

"We're almost home, Apollo," he said. "Just a few more centons."

Finally, tiny points of light in the distance. The Fleet!! Starbuck felt tears of relief well up in his eyes, but he blinked them back.

"You find your way now?" Boomer asked, restoring communications. His voice was distorted and staticy from the natural interference all around them.

"Yeah, thanks old buddy."

"See ya later."

With that, Boomer turned around and headed back towards the battle.

"I hope so," Starbuck said, but to himself. He had a very bad feeling about all of this.

***

He fell asleep in the decontamination chamber. He remembered lying down on the bench, next thing he knew, he was abruptly awakened by the finishing buzzer and the door clanging open. Starbuck was momentarily disoriented, thinking, strangely, that he was back on Caprica in the orphanage – but then he remembered: Apollo. And Salik and his team, dressed in bio-suits, loading Apollo into a lifepod and wheeling him away.

Starbuck got to his feet, and had to brace himself against the wall as a wave of dizziness washed over him. With no food and no sleep in the past two days, it was hardly surprising. He stumbled out of the chamber and into the corridor. His vision was blurry, but he could see someone walking towards him. He stopped and rubbed his eyes.

"Hey, you okay?"

He knew the voice. It was Cassie.

"How's Apollo?" he demanded.

"I don't know. They're still working on him."

"I better get up there."

"No," she firmly. "You're going to your quarters. You've been ordered there by both the Commander and Dr. Salik."

"Cassie –"

"Starbuck, you can barely stand. And there's nothing you can do up there. It's up to the doctors and Apollo now."

He was too tired to fight her, so he nodded, let her take his arm. Once she'd left his quarters, he could sneak out.

"What's going on with the battle?" he asked her as they stepped into a turbolift.

"All I know is there's two Cylon Baseships somewhere in this dead space with us."

"But, the fighting…"

She sighed. "From what I can figure out, the Commander decided to set up an ambush for our pursuers, kind of doing to the Cylons what they did to us at the Great Destruction. He launched the squadrons, left tankers for refueling, and brought the Fleet in here."

Starbuck shook his head. He knew he was tired, but the plan didn't make much sense. If the Cylons detected this dead space, and there were no other hiding spots, of course they'd figure the Fleet was in here.

They were at his quarters, and Cassie followed him inside, steering him to his bed. He didn't want to lie down, but his body had other ideas. He felt a hypospray against his neck.

"Just some nutritional agents," Cassie said.

"Oh…"

Starbuck's eyes closed, and he was quickly asleep.

***

"Lieutenant. Lieutenant!"

Somebody was shaking him.

"Lieutenant Starbuck, wake up, and that's an order!"

Starbuck's eyelids dragged up. In the dim light, he saw Colonel Tigh standing over him.

"We need you," the Colonel said. "Get changed and come to the Briefing Room. You have 10 centons."

Before Starbuck could reply, Tigh was gone. He didn't even know how long he'd been asleep, but his brain was still so sluggish, it couldn't have been very long.

He looked down at himself, wondering why he needed to change when he already had on a uniform. But then he realized he was filthy, and then he remembered why. He tried paging the Life Centre, but no one answered. His call was not a priority, obviously.

Starbuck did as he was told. He quickly changed, and headed for the Briefing Room. The ship was eerily quiet as he made his way upstairs. All the troops must be out fighting, for there was a distinct lack of personel. Even the Bridge had only half the regular crew. Starbuck paused to glance around, noting the number of empty stations. Strange, very, very strange.

In the Briefing Room, Adama and Tigh were waiting for him. He desperately wanted to ask about Apollo, but the Commander's stern expression warned him not to. In fact, it scared him, the serious concentration that could be masking intense grief.

"Lieutenant," Adama said, "the time has come to finish things between ourselves and the Cylons. We need you to go out on a very important mission."

"Yes, sir," Starbuck replied.

"No doubt you've been wondering about my tactics. Everything that you have witnessed has been deliberately done. You could say I'm taking a page from the Commander Cain strategy guide."

Starbuck frowned. Cain? He went after two Baseships with the Pegasus –

"Oh my god," he said, staring at the Commander.

"Your mission, Starbuck, is to lure the Baseships to the Galactica, here in dead space. That means you have to get very close for them to see you."

Starbuck felt his throat going dry, but he nodded. "And what happens when I bring them here, sir?"

"One great, glorious battle," Adama said, a firey gleam in his eyes. "The last one, I hope. Did you notice the lack of personel aboard ship?"

"Yes."

"They have been moved to other Fleet ships, and, in turn, those moved to a safe distance, an escape route locked in for them should things go awry." The Commander paused, then continued: "All the wounded in the Life Centre have also been evacuated."

It took Starbuck a moment to clue in. "Apollo?" he said.

"Yes, he's on one of the other ships." Adama smiled faintly. "Should we be defeated here, at least the people will have a leader in him."

***

Apollo survived!!

That's all Starbuck thought as he headed for the launch bay. The mission never crossed his mind, was pushed away, too strange and scary to deal with at the moment. In fact, he felt like he'd entered an alter-verse. He'd gone to sleep and awakened in a realm of doubles who made foolhardy plans, sent warriors out on impossible missions… It was the silent, empty corridors that did it, lights set low, power being conserved for the fight to come. His footsteps echoed eerily, shadows reached out to touch him, he was all alone here, and was quite possibly going to his death…

…but all he could think about was Apollo.

He'd done it. He'd saved him.

In the launch bay, a tech waited for him. Starbuck nodded at the man and climbed into his ship.

"Good luck, Lieutenant," the tech said as he moved to close the canopy.

Starbuck grinned back at him. "I'll give you 60 to 1 odds on the Cylons, my friend. A one-day-only special, 'cause I'm feeling generous."

"Very tempting, but somehow I think I'd be out a lot of money," the tech replied, grinning.

The canopy sealed with a small hiss. In Starbuck's ears was Rigel's soft voice. His euphoria dissappated. This was serious. This would be the end, one way or another.

***

The only way to get the attention of two blind Baseships would be a full scale attack run, both barrels blazing. Their targeting scanners wouldn't be working, so Starbuck knew they couldn't lock onto him, but random fire from their batteries could be worse, as then he wouldn't know where they might be shooting next. The Commander believed that the Cylons would assume Starbuck was heading for home from the battle, and would extrapolate his vector and follow it right to the Galactica. Perhaps they would. Or perhaps they'd see it for the trap it was.

The Commander did know where the Cylons were. Upon entering dead space, the Galactica sent out a stream of radioactive dadron particles and the Baseships passed right through them without noticing. These particles clung to their hulls, and with a modification or two to the scanner, were detectable. They'd discovered this phenomenon quite by accident the last time they were in a spot of dead space. For some reason, this relatively useless radioactive particle was not affected by its surroundings.

Starbuck saw the Baseships ahead of him. Cold sweat broke out over his body, and he had to tell himself over and over that they couldn't see him. Not yet, anyway. He took a deep, steadying breath and fired up his laser canons. This would be the most important mission of his life.

"I remember the Colonies," he whispered. "The fight shall never be over."

***

Apollo could only open one eye. His right side ached alarmingly, and there was something very warm against his left. He looked down, saw light brown hair, and below it, a small body, curling up beside him. Boxey. He was home, then. They had found him, and brought him home.

Didn't look much like sick bay, though. Apollo carefully turned his head and scanned his surroundings. He was in a big room, with dark walls, and a dark ceiling, and, if he was not mistaken, a bar at the far end. There were other beds with wounded soldiers, tables and chairs hurriedly stacked out of the way. His brain must be scrambled. This looked like one of the nightclubs on the Rising Star. Couldn't be, could it?

"Dad?"

Boxey was looking up at him now.

"Hi," he replied, his voice a bare whisper.

"Dad!"

Boxey was about to throw himself on Apollo, but stopped just in time, settling for a very gentle hug instead.

"Do you hurt?" the boy asked. "I can get Cassie."

"Not too bad."

Athena appeared behind Boxey, a wide smile breaking across her face.

"Well, well," she said, bending down to kiss Apollo. "Hello there, big brother."

"Where am I?" Apollo asked.

"Home."

"Where?"

She didn't want to tell him. Boxey turned to her and they exchanged a serious look.

"What's going on?" Apollo asked.

Athena sighed. "You're on the Rising Star, Apollo, in the Stargazer Lounge. The Galactica's been evacuated except for a small crew of essential personel."

It took Apollo several moments to absorb this information. "Why?"

"Two Baseships are coming for us. The Commander is going to end the Cylon pursuit once and for all."

Apollo just stared back at his sister, unable to reply. It was nearly too much for him in his present state. How long had he been unconscious? For this drastic turn of events, it must have been weeks.

"H-He wouldn't let me stay with him," she continued, her voice shaking a little. "I think I know how Sheba felt."

"No, he can't," Apollo said, getting visibly upset.

"I know," Athena said, stroking his hair. "But there's nothing we can do, Apollo. It's already started. We can only wait."

"It'll be okay, Dad," Boxey said. "We'll win, we always do."

Apollo saw fear in his son's face, despite the boy's brave words, and he forced himself to be calm. Consciousness was ebbing again, anyway. It had tired him tremendously being awake for these few centons. His surroundings faded, and he closed his eyes, quickly falling asleep.

***

The second time he awoke, the universe made a little more sense to him, although he couldn't quite remember what Athena had said, so she had to tell him all over again. And he had the same reaction again, but was alert enough to ask a lot more questions about their situation. When she'd told him the whole plan, as much as she knew about it, anyway, Apollo lay in silence for a few centons, absolutely furious with his father.

"What the HELL does he think he's doing?" Apollo demanded, unable to hold it in anymore. "Who does he think he is, Cain?"

Then he winced, his body reacted adversely to the tension.

"Relax," Athena said firmly. "And you're not the only one in this room, you know."

"I can't fucking believe this," Apollo muttered.

"Ah, I see the patient's awake and very angry," Cassie said, appearing at the bedside. "I suppose that's good indication of recovery."

Then she smiled, and kissed him on the forhead. "Hi Apollo," she said. "I can't tell you how glad I am to see you."

"Well, it was good to be home. Now I'm not so sure," Apollo replied.

"Oh, so you'd rather be dead in the dirt where crashed?" Cassie retorted.

Apollo relented. "No."

"Good, 'cause Starbuck went through an awful lot of trouble to get you, and I won't listen to any kind of ingratitude."

She fiddled with her hand-held medical scanner, then began examining Apollo. He was in recoil from this second shock: Starbuck? Starbuck found him? Apollo hadn't given any thought as to how he got back to the Fleet. He assumed that – who was it? Reager – had reported his last know position, and after the battle a rescue team had found him. But the way Cassie spoke, that wasn't quite what happened.

"What's the date?" Apollo asked.

Athena told him. Now he was more than a little confused. It was nearly 4 days later than he thought. He'd lost a heap of time somewhere.

"I think you better tell him the whole story, Athena," Cassie said. "If his brainwaves jump around any more, he's gonna have a stroke."

"What?"

"Kidding, Captain. But you've just realized you lost about 3 days, haven't you?"

"Yeah."

"Well, I'll tell you my part in all this, and Athena can tell you the rest."

***

"Where's Starbuck now?" Apollo asked when Athena had finished.

"With Dad," she replied quietly.

Apollo said nothing, the sudden realization that he could lose both his father and Starbuck today rendering him speechless.

Starbuck… Apollo had treated him like shit, and still Starbuck had risked his life to mount a rescue. Guilt didn't begin to describe what he was feeling. It was more like a black pit had opened up inside him, and anything good he'd ever known had fallen into its bottomless depths.

"I think you've had enough, Apollo," Cassie said gently. "You need a lot more rest."

She bent towards him, hypospray in his hand.

"Don't put me out," Apollo said.

"You have to sleep."

"I'll lie here and close my eyes."

Cassie hesitated, but nodded. "Okay, but no talking."

"Okay."

She stroked his hair, then went to attend to the other patients. Athena took Apollo's hand and squeezed it.

"Close your eyes," she said. "I'm going to pray for a while."

Apollo nodded and shut his eyes, listening to his sister's whispered incantations, begging for mercy for them all.

***

He hated being so helpless. Unable to move, consigned to wait, and think, and worry. Behind his closed eyes, he played out the battle in a hundred different imagined senarios, trying to find one he thought would mean victory for the Galactica, and the safe return of two people he loved more than anyone in this universe.

Yes, even Starbuck. Despite the pain he'd caused, Apollo couldn't imagine being without him. The emptiness in his life would be unbearable. Just give me one chance to tell him I'm sorry, he silently implored the gods. Give me a chance to forgive him.

Apollo tried to remember anything about the crash and the lost days immediately following it, but there was only a curious blank space where those memories should be. He would have given anything to be able to recall Starbuck's face or voice, but being injured and unconscious, there was no hope of that. Instead, his most recent memory was of telling Starbuck that he wanted to break up the Triad team, and, before that, the awful Triad match where Apollo's anger and frustration had gotten out of control.

"Any word?" he called, hearing Cassie go by.

"Not yet," she answered.

It was taking too long. He'd been unable to imagine a victorious senario. Two Basestars against one unsupported Battlestar, it was just too much firepower. Apollo had to stop thinking about it, he was scaring himself.

"Dad?" a small voice whispered near his head.

He hadn't heard Boxey approach. The boy could be so quiet sometimes.

"Yeah?"

"You asleep?"

"No."

Apollo opened his eyes, looked at his son.

"I want to get something for Starbuck," Boxey said. "What should I get?"

"Why do you want to get something for him?"

"Well, Athena says it's nice to get a gift for somebody who's done something good for you. And Starbuck brought you back, so I want to get him something."

Apollo felt his throat tighten. "I don't think he'd expect anything, Boxey."

"I know, but I want to. I have money."

"Well then, he'd like nothing better than a new deck of cards."

Boxey's face lit up. "Yeah. Thanks, Dad!"

He turned to go, then stopped.

"Dad?"

"Yes."

"Can he come over and teach me to play Pyramid with them?"

Apollo nodded. "Yes."

He was rewarded with a big grin. "I'll be back!" Boxey said.

"Okay."

Apollo watched his son go, tears welling up in his swollen eyes. He pulled the bedcover up over his face and breathed deeply to choke down his pain. Maybe he should ask Cassie to be tranquilized and just sleep until it was over, dealing with the outcome when he awoke again.

No, that was too easy. Suffering was good for the soul, after all.

***

Athena, her pale blue eyes looking a bit wild from anger and fear, marched across the make-shift sick bay. She bent close to Apollo and whispered:

"Sire Anton came to see me. Certain Councillors think we should be leaving."

She didn't need to say who. Apollo knew.

"He doesn't want to go," she continued, "and wanted to know if you were well enough to speak to the Council."

"Me?"

"You're in command, Apollo, as long as Tigh and Father aren't here. At least, you would be if you were on your feet. General Ops is being handled by Lieutenant Gaines at the moment. The Council certainly won't listen to him."

Apollo thought for a moment. "How long has it been since last contact with the Galactica?"

"Nearly 12 centars."

"We should send out a recon, see if they can find anything."

"There's no one to do recon, Apollo. The pilots are all out."

"We're not going anywhere. I'll talk to the Council if I have to."

Athena nodded. "Good. I'll tell Anton." She paused, glanced around quickly. "What do you think is happening out there? I know you've probably been going over it in your mind instead of sleeping."

"Actually, I've been trying not to think about it too much."

"Do you think Dad can pull it off?"

"If he gets lucky."

"He's got Starbuck for that."

"I hope so."

She gazed at him thoughtfully for a moment. "What happened between you and Starbuck?"

"We were both stupid."

"So when he comes back, you'll be all right again?"

"I owe him my life, Athena."

"I don't think that's what he wants from you, some feeling of obligation."

Apollo frowned. "What does he want then?"

She leaned very close, ensuring no one else heard. "He wants love, Apollo. He wants your love."

"Good god, does everybody know?" Apollo asked.

"Yes, but we're very discreet."

Athena kissed him on the forehead. "Rest. I'll hold off the Council."

***

"You are NOT getting up," Cassie said, appalled by the notion.

"I have to. I have to talk to the Council."

"Do you want a mirror? Do you want to see what you look like? You look half a degree warmer than death, Apollo. Not to mention your scans –

"Do you think I want to talk to the fucking Council?" Apollo interrupted, losing his temper. "Believe me, I'd rather keep recouperating here in the lovely Stargazer Lounge, but those twelve assholes aren't gonna let me. Now get me a fucking chair!!!"

Silence echoed around them. Cassie was in deep shock, her mouth open. She walked away without another word.

"Oh, that was well done," Athena said. "Is that how you're going to talk to the Council?"

"I just might. As far as I'm concerned, all rules of protocol are off."

"Okay, I'm going to tell Anton you're unconscious again. I can't let you near them like this."

"I was nearly dead a day ago. Why are they doing this to me?"

"They're doing it precisely because you were nearly dead a day ago. They strike when the enemy has his back turned, like total cowards. This shouldn't surprise you."

Apollo was quiet for a moment. "Maybe we should be leaving," he said.

"What?"

"It's been nearly 16 centars."

"Not yet, Apollo."

"I don't want to, but how much longer can we wait?"

"I'd wait a week."

"Really?"

Athena nodded, perfectly serious. "Yes, I would. A week."

Cassie came back, a hoverchair floating before her. She wouldn't look at Apollo when she spoke.

"Here's your chair, and I brought you a robe."

"Cassie –"

She put her hand up, stopping him. "Not now. You've got to talk to the Council."

Apollo nearly blacked out getting into the hoverchair. All his blood shot down to his feet and he was vaguely aware of Athena and Cassie holding him up, but not much else. Then the haze cleared from his vision, and he found himself sitting up, which caused his side and leg to hurt in new, searing ways.

"Pain?" Cassie asked.

Apollo nodded. She shot him full of something that numbed him from the neck down.

"Not too long," Cassie ordered. "Twenty centons at the most, then I want you back in this bed."

***

The Council had claimed one of the larger private dining rooms for their official chamber during this crisis. And Apollo wished he could have had a picture of their faces when he floated into the room. They were shocked to see him, horrified by his injuries, pissed off that he was interfering with their plans. He couldn't have made a better entrance. His appearance put them all off balance. Athena stood just behind him. She had to come, too, to make sure she got him out of there in a reasonable amount of time. She checked her timepiece, wanting to stick as close to Cassie's deadline as possible.

"Captain," Sire Anton said, coming towards Apollo, "I see your recovery progresses well. Oh behalf of the Council, may I say how pleased and relieved we were to learn of your successful rescue."

"Thank you, Sire Anton, and members of the Council. I was at least equally relieved to be rescued. But I'm troubled by a some of the things I've heard in the last few centars. I'm here to tell you straight out that this Fleet is not leaving until we have confirmed the fate of the Galactica and her crew."

"How can we do that, Captain? We have no pilots," said Sire Galen.

"We have, I would guess, about 220 pilots. One of them, I'm sure, can be sufficiently instructed to go on a short recon in one of the small ships." There was much muttering, then, finally, a direct attack.

"Captain, you cannot possibly think you're in command," said Sire Uri. "You can't even walk."

"I'm well enough to sit up and talk," Apollo replied, "which puts my current abilities about even with all of you. But, you do have a point, Sire Uri. From this moment on, I hereby authorize Lieutenant Athena to act as my deputy on this Council. I grant her all the same summary powers that I have as a defacto Council member and leader of the armed forces."

Apollo surprised everyone, no one more than Athena. She stood there trying to look calm and steely-eyed while her stomach was doing flip-flops.

"But – but what if there's an emergency?" Uri asked.

"Then she'll consult with me," Apollo replied. "Not that she would necessarily need to. Fine military minds run in the family, and she's got one of the best. Don't bug me unless it's important, Athena."

"Of course," Athena replied, confidence filling her. "I think I know the difference."

Apollo stared at them all, waiting, but no more protests were forthcoming. Anton gave him a wicked, amused smile, terribly pleased by the turn of events.

"Athena," Apollo said, "I would like you to begin finding a suitable pilot and ship for a recon mission. You know how to instruct them?"

"Yes, sir," Athena replied.

"Then I leave it to you. Members of the Council, I thank you for your time, and I thank you for your patience during this time of crisis. We can't act impulsively. The people need strong, steady leadership right now, which I'm sure we're all capable of providing. I will speak with you again after the recon flight. Councillors."

He bowed his head to them, and they answered the same way.

Athena accompanied him back to sick bay. She had a very faraway look in her eyes, already thinking about what she had to do.

"You okay with this?" Apollo asked her.

She nodded. "I'm ready," she replied.

***

It wore him out, that short trip up a few decks to the temporary Council chamber. He didn't have the strength to get himself out of the chair, had to be lifted out like an invalid and placed back in his bed. Dr. Salik was there, glaring at his medical scanner as he checked out Apollo, sighing at various intervals.

"You've set back your recovery several days," the doctor said. "You won't be getting out of this bed again until I approve it."

"I won't need to," Apollo replied, very sleepy. "Athena's in charge now."

Salik shook his head, thinking Apollo was a bit confused.

"I was going to give you something for sleep, but I see I won't need to. Rest, Captain."

"Yeah…"

He was already drifting, Salik's voice coming from far away.

Then something strange crossed his mind, just as he slipped over the edge into sleep. It was a name he'd never heard before.

Gabriel…

***

A long dreamless sleep, and difficulty surfacing again. Apollo felt sluggish and dull, and couldn't get his body to respond, like he'd been under anaesthetic. He felt terrible, every breath was a bit of a struggle. Finally, he opened his eyes, and the room slowly came into focus.

A different room, small, private. He looked to his left, saw a featureless wall. Then he looked to his right.

Starbuck. Starbuck sat by his bed, looking back at him, weary smile on his face. Apollo lifted his hand a little ways off the bed, and Starbuck reached over to grasp it.

"You're not dreaming," he said. "I'm really here."

"Thank god," Apollo managed, his voice weak and sounding very far away.

"Your father is safe. The Galactica's taken a bit of shit-kicking, but she'll recover. It's been an incredible couple of days, Apollo, and I'll tell you all about it when you're awake enough to be impressed."

"Okay."

Apollo was fading again, his eyes closing of their own accord. He felt Starbuck caress his face, then a kiss on the forehead, then nothing.

***

"He's fighting an infection," Salik said. "I don't have the supplies to do anything else for him. He needs to be in a lifepod on the Galactica."

"Well, she's gonna be a while," Starbuck replied. "There's nothing else you can give him?"

"Not without overdosing him, no. He's very weak right now, Starbuck. I hesitate to do anything that'll tax his system more. Going to see the Council, then the second surgery, nearly killed him."

Starbuck nodded, deciding to not to bother Salik anymore. The doctor had been run ragged, what with the evacuation and attending to several other seriously injured pilots besides Apollo. And there was likely more to come when the Galactica returned. The Battlestar was out in true space rounding up her pilots and assessing her losses. Starbuck had come ahead to inform the people of their victory, of their vanquishment of an old, unrelenting enemy. He should be celebrating with the others, drinking to their miraculous deliverance once again, but instead he was here in the former Stargazer Lounge, sick with worry about Apollo.

He told Athena he'd stay here while she began co-ordinating the people's return to the Galactica – to the parts that were inhabitable, anyway. Starbuck had told her about the massive hole in the hull that would make about 10 decks useless for the forseeable future. And then there was just destroyed internal systems. Can't let people live where the life support's been blown out.

Starbuck watched Salik's retreating back, musing over how surreal his life had suddenly become. Death-defying feats had become the norm, how would he ever adjust to being merely Lieutenant Starbuck again, orphan, card-player, and general slacker?

Easily. If he thought too hard about flying at those Baseships, he got the shakes. And then there was watching the Galactica take them on while he darted around, firing at the Cylon guns, helping as much as he could. It nearly hadn't been enough. Thank the gods for the Cylon's overconfidence, as it, ultimately, did them in. Foolishly, they crowded the Galactica, and Adama had been waiting for that. The Commander had held back firepower, had some specially modified missiles. The flash was so huge Starbuck thought the Galactica had been taken, too, but, when he could see again, there she was, floating askew in dead space like a derelict.

A talking derelict. He'd never been so glad to hear Tigh's distorted voice calling for him.

"Find the Fleet, Lieutenant," Tigh had ordered. "Tell them we're free. The Galactica's going to pick up her pilots."

He met the Chronos as he was heading towards the Fleet. Her captain, Gunther, told Starbuck that he'd been sent out by Commander Athena on a recon flight.

"Commander Athena!?!" Starbuck had replied incredulously.

"Captain Apollo gave her command," Gunther explained. "And she's doing a damn fine job, too."

"How is the Captain?"

"Pretty bad, I think. But I got a feeling he'll pull through."

The 'pretty bad' part was right. Starbuck sat by Apollo's bed again, taking Apollo's cool, clammy hand in his.

How can his hands be cold when he has a fever? Starbuck wondered, noting the slight sheen on Apollo's forehead and sweaty hair.

"Come on, Apollo," Starbuck said, "we're not done yet."

***

"Starbuck."

The soft voice reached him. Starbuck shifted around on the sofa he was stretched out on.

"Starbuck, wake up."

A small hand shook him. Starbuck opened his eyes and looked up at Boxey. The boy smiled shyly, had one hand behind his back.

"Hiya, kid," Starbuck said sleepily.

"I have a present for you."

"Oh?"

"Athena said I should let you sleep, but I want to give it to you."

"Okay."

Boxey held out a round, shiny black box that he'd been hiding behind his back. Starbuck took it and looked at it for a micron, then pulled the top off. Inside was a deck of ornate Pyramid cards. Around the edge were the symbols for the 12 Colonies embossed in gold, with the mysterious 13th in the centre, represented by a blue/green globe, the promised land, all on a rich red background. It was a beautiful deck.

"Do you like them?" Boxey asked.

"Very much," Starbuck replied. "What'd I do to deserve such a fine gift?"

"You brought my dad home, and I wanted to thank you."

Starbuck didn't know what to say. Gratitude, true, sincere gratitude, embarrassed him a little.

"Well, I, uh, I just had to," he stammered.

"And Dad said you can teach me to play Pyramid with those."

"Good."

Starbuck pulled the boy to him and hugged him, kissing his hair.

"Thank you," he said.

After Boxey had gone, Starbuck dumped the cards into his hand and fanned them, getting the feel of them, trying to sense their vibes. They were cool to the touch, and when he held them, overall they felt serene, cards for the calm, confident Pyramid player. He'd try them out, first game back on the Galactica.

***

Finally, word from the Galactica. Starbuck was helping Athena, but his thoughts were with Apollo, who still lay unconscious and feverish in the Stargazer Lounge. Salik was being brutally honest about his condition, about coma and brain-damage and organ failure. Without a lifepod, Apollo didn't stand a chance. With a lifepod, the odds weren't great.

Athena wanted to be with her brother, but she was Adama's daughter, able to push aside such weak thoughts and get on with the job. She hadn't ordered Starbuck out of the makeshift sick bay, but she'd asked him to help her, and he knew this was his primary obligation. Their shared misery was strangely comforting.

She lost her composure slightly when she heard her father's voice. Starbuck saw her put her hand to her eyes, brushing away some tears. She was all business talking with the Commander, cool and professional until he asked about Apollo.

"He, uh… I don't know, Father," she replied shakily. "Salik says he needs a lifepod."

Silence. Then: "We will rendevous with the Fleet in 25 centons. Inform Salik. Adama out."

Salik just sighed and nodded, his face in the comm screen indescribably weary.

"What about Galactica casualties?" he asked.

"The Commander reported on minor injuries to crew and pilots," Athena replied.

Salik's eyebrows shot up. "Only minor? After that battle?"

"Well, it seemed to go that either you came through okay or you died. There was no inbetween this time."

"Very well. I will have the Captain ready to move in 25 centons."

"Any change, doctor?"

"Not for the better, I'm afraid. Salik out."

Athena and Starbuck looked at each other.

"Do you want to go sit with him?" Athena asked.

"I think you should go," Starbuck replied, "until your father gets here."

She hesitated, that ingrained sense of duty so difficult to shake off. But then she nodded, got up, and hurried from the room.

***

Boomer. He was literally the first person Starbuck saw when he stepped out of his Viper onto the Galactica's beta landing bay. He hugged Boomer tightly, too emotional to speak.

"Hey, hey," Boomer said, "I'm glad to see you, too."

Starbuck greeted the others assembled there, too: Jolly, Sheba – he was even relieved to see Bojay. Then he began noting the faces he didn't see: Aiden, Saro, Baird…

"Yeah, we're, uh, missing a few," Boomer said, reading Starbuck's expression correctly. "How's Apollo?"

The others leaned close to hear his answer.

"Salik's doing what he can," Starbuck answered.

"Bad?"

"Yeah. Bad."

"Are we going to lose him?" Sheba asked, unafraid to be cuttingly direct.

"I don't know," Starbuck replied.

"Well," Boomer said loudly, "the OC and all her spiritous contents miraculously survived our gallant battle, and I, for one, am parched."

Boomer took Starbuck firmly by the arm, steering him towards the lift.

"You may as well wait with us, Bucko," he said gently. "They got enough people up in sick bay right now."

Starbuck went along quietly, didn't protest when Boomer pressed a glass of ambrosia into his hand, participated in the toasts to the dead and to their fearless Commander. Then, the attention turned to him. Starbuck didn't even realize it at first, had been staring down into his drink. Then he heard Boomer say his name, and he glanced up, saw the others smiling at him.

"—and I can only imagine what you must have been thinking, flying at those Baseships," Boomer was saying. "Old buddy, everybody here owes you so much –"

"Stop," Starbuck interrupted. "Please."

"No," Boomer replied. "Sometimes people don't get the recognition they deserve, and after what we've just been through, I'm realizing that we've got to take the time to say what we feel. I don't think you know what you've done for this Fleet, Starbuck, and the words 'thank you' really aren't enough, but it's all we can offer you right now. Thank you, Starbuck."

"Here, here!" chorused the others, glasses raised.

Starbuck's vision blurred, and a tremendous lump in his throat made a response impossible. At the same time, he was strangely happy, deliriously happy. And then overhead the comm system snapped on, silencing everyone:

"Lieutenant Starbuck, report to the Life Centre. Lieutenant Starbuck to the Life Centre."

***

Starbuck arrived, bracing himself for the worst. He saw Cassie across the wide open space of main sick bay, and she pointed towards the private rooms. She smiled as she did so, a real, human smile, and Starbuck's knees almost buckled. He staggered away, peering through the small windows on the private room doors until he found Apollo. Starbuck stared at the scene inside, an imtimate, private scene, but he couldn't look away.

Adama sat on the edge of Apollo's bed, one hand stroking his son's hair, the other holding his hand. They were talking, Apollo was awake, a very much father/son moment, not commander/captain. It was rare to catch them like this, showing the affection for each other they so obviously felt.

"Are you going in?" Cassie whispered.

Starbuck jumped. He hadn't heard her approach.

"I, uh – the Commander's in there."

"He's the one who had you paged. Go on, they're waiting for you."

Starbuck hesitated a moment longer, then touched the door panel. Adama and Apollo watched him as he stepped into the small room, and he stopped just inside the door, unable to tear his gaze away from Apollo. The green eyes stared calmly back, no anger in them this time, or pain. They radiated love and gratitude.

Adama got to his feet, and in a hundred million yahrens Starbuck never would have believed possible what happened next. The Commander hugged him! Starbuck didn't know what to do, didn't know where to put his hands, just kind of awkwardly returned it, noting Apollo's amused expression over the Commander's shoulder.

Adama pulled back, patted Starbuck on the cheek, then left without saying a word.

"Hi," Starbuck said shyly, after a long pause where they just looked at each other.

"Come here," Apollo replied. "Sit." He patted the edge of the bed.

Starbuck obeyed, fighting down the emotion rising within him. Apollo's hand was warm this time, strong too as it squeezed Starbuck's.

"We've got a lot to talk about," Apollo said.

"Yeah," Starbuck agreed.

"Maybe not now, but definitely later."

"Okay."

"I love you, Starbuck."

Starbuck swallowed hard. "I love you, too," he replied.

***

Apollo and the Galactica appeared to recover at about the same pace. Rebuilding badly damaged parts of the ship looked to be impossible at first glance, but slowly, they managed. Every scrap of salvage was used, and expeditions to nearby asteroids and moons were sent out to mine usable ore. It certainly wasn't pretty, all the patched inner walls and mismatched hull platings crudely welded together, but it was sound.

Apollo was quickly back on light duty, not flying, but doing endless supply checks and liasing between the Bridge and Engineering teams. He knew the Galactica nearly as well as the engineers, could say where the power junctures were and what systems they controlled. He just didn't know how to fix them.

And, in odd, private moments, he'd find out what people really thought of him. Comments, like 'Glad you're back, Captain', or 'We were worried about you, Captain', from crewmen and tech's he'd never met before, said softly so only he'd hear them. Apollo would manage to stammer out an astonished 'Thank you', and the speaker would return to his or her task, satisfied that their message was delivered.

Despite their numerous losses, the troops were in high spirits for the most part. For his first week back on duty, whenever he was on the troop decks or in the duty office, junior officers and cadets would peer around corners at him, as if they couldn't quite believe he was alive. Not terrible decorous, especially since they'd duck out of sight if Apollo looked around, but he wasn't inclined to be heavy-handed with the discipline. Boomer teased Apollo about these 'groupies' he'd suddenly acquired.

"Let's see, what should we call 'em?" Boomer speculated. "Apollonites? That's not bad. What kind of 'special' orders you gonna give 'em, Captain? I sure could use someone to clean my quarters."

Starbuck was out with a mining expedition. He had been gone for nearly a month. Apollo was still bed-ridden when he'd left, so he was shocked to see Apollo standing in corridor after Starbuck emerged from the decontamination chamber. They weren't alone in that busy part of the ship, but it didn't matter. They held each other for a long time, saying nothing, then Starbuck had to pull away.

"I have to report in," he said. "And the Commander will want a debriefing."

Apollo shook his head. "I reported you in," he replied, "and the Commander will debrief Lieutenant Gains. I need to talk to you – that is, if you're not too tired."

"No, had a good sleep in the chamber just now."

"Come on, then."

Starbuck was nervous as they headed up towards Apollo's quarters. The whole time he was away, he'd thought about their reunion – when he wasn't worrying about Apollo taking a sudden turn for the worse again. Seeing him now, whole and healthy, Starbuck had a hard time not staring at him.

And, he had a hard time not grabbing him and kissing him.

Inside Apollo's quarters, Apollo opened a cabinet and retrieved a bottle and two glasses, pouring a healthy shot of amber ambrosia into each one.

"To your safe return," Apollo said, touching his glass to Starbuck's.

"And your rapid recovery," Starbuck added, looking Apollo up and down, not altogether innocently.

They drank, then sat on the sofa.

"Apollo, please don't prolong this," Starbuck said after a few moments of silence had passed. "If you've got something to tell me, I wish you'd get it over with."

"Well, I've been wondering for the last month just what to say to you, and to be honest, I can't find the right words. What you did for me…" Apollo paused, shrugging. "'Thank you' just isn't enough."

"I only did what you would do," Starbuck replied, "so really, you saved yourself."

Apollo let out a small chuckle, then turned serious again. "I'm sorry for how I treated you before. Sometimes I'm too self-righteous for my own good."

"You don't have anything to apologize for. It was all me. I'm the one who's more sorry than I can possibly express. I never wanted to hurt you, Apollo. I need you, more than I've ever needed anybody in my whole life. Maybe that's the problem. I get scared of the closeness."

"I know."

"And then there's what I said," Starbuck continued, determined to deal with everything. "I'm so sorry for that. I didn't mean it, I don't know where it came from."

Apollo nodded. "It was pretty awful," he admitted, "but I think I can get past it."

"Yeah?" Starbuck asked hopefully.

"Yeah. How could I not, after everything you've done?"

Starbuck sighed and looked away, disappointed.

"What's the matter?"

"Here's the thing, Apollo," Starbuck replied. "I didn't rescue you so you'd feel like you owe me. I don't want you to take me back on those terms."

Apollo frowned. "What do you mean?"

"I want you to forgive me. Everything that happened between our break-up and now doesn't count. It's just you and me, and the problem we started with."

Apollo shook his head, marvelling silently at his sister and what she'd said about Starbuck: / I don't think that's what he wants from you, some feeling of obligation./ How did she get to be so smart?

"I do forgive you," Apollo said. "All that doesn't matter any more. I feel like I've gotten a second chance, Starbuck. This is a new beginning, for all of us, really. So I'd like to begin things again with you. What do you think?"

"I'd like that very much."

"Good."

Finally, they kissed, gently, lovingly, Starbuck's hand in Apollo's hair. It was like their first kiss all over again.

"One more thing," Apollo said when they reluctantly broke apart. "Do you know someone named 'Gabriel'?"

Starbuck had to control his reaction. "Uh…why?"

Apollo shrugged. "I don't know. That name was just in my mind for some reason. Must be a halucination from after the crash."

Starbuck sighed, and, evading Apollo's gaze, said: "No."

"No, what?"

"It's not exactly a halucination. I told you that name while we were coming back to the Fleet."

"I don't understand."

"It was a long trip, and I talked to you while you were unconscious, that's all. I'm surprised you remember anything."

Apollo waited, but no more information was forthcoming.

"So… who's Gabriel, then?" he prompted.

Starbuck hesitated, then replied: "Me. It's, uh, my name – my real name that my real parents called me."

"I thought you didn't know anything about your family."

"I lied. It was easier to."

"Starbuck –"

"Look, it's not a big deal, okay? I was just rambling on, trying to pass the time, and that slipped out."

Apollo regarded him closely. "I don't believe you. It is a big deal. It's a part of you that nobody knows about, and it must be very special or you would have said something a long time ago." Apollo paused, thinking fleetingly about Boxey and what he might be hiding. "Thank you for telling me."

"You're welcome," Starbuck muttered, his discomfort obvious.

"Hey, it's a nice name. And I think it kind of suits you."

"Really?"

"Yeah. Maybe I'll use it sometimes – in private – if you don't mind."

"No, I – I don't mind."

Apollo slipped his arms around Starbuck and pulled him close.

"I love you, Gabriel," he whispered in Starbuck's ear.

THE END