Starbuck could barely see him now. Apollo was a mere speck on the horizon against the deep blue sky. He never once looked back, didn't acknowledge Starbuck's shouts - if he even heard them. Some force held Starbuck rooted to the ground. He could only watch helplessly as Apollo disappeared from view and was gone, hurrying towards some unknown destination, leaving Starbuck and everyone else behind -
*
Starbuck awoke, as he always did when this recurring dream took hold of him. It didn't come as frequently as it used to, but it still disturbed him. He wouldn't be able to get back to sleep.
Starbuck squeezed his eyes shut and turned over on the bed, curling up into a ball. Gods, he was lonely. Despite all the people around him, he felt like he was in exile. He kept everyone at arms length now, except maybe Troy. Against all odds, they'd managed to strike up a cautious adult/child friendship: the boy wary from losing yet another parent, and Starbuck just unsure of how to act around him. But slowly they were getting used to each other, and the painful silences that had marked their first outings were becoming rare, the air instead filled with easy conversation. Starbuck remembered that he had promised Troy a shuttle piloting lesson today, a distraction for them both.
For this was the day, six months ago, that the Commander had called off the search for Apollo and given him up for dead. It was no surprise to Starbuck then that the dream had come back to haunt him. At first, he had looked for answers in the dream, thought maybe he'd missed something while on the planet where Apollo disappeared. Starbuck soon realized, however, that it offered no explanations, and was likely just a reflection of his pain over Apollo's loss. So now Starbuck merely endured the dream, wishing it would stop.
"It is 0720," the computer announced. "You have five messages."
Starbuck ignored the wake-up, hunkered down further under the covers. Sometimes, he allowed himself a small fantasy, where Apollo miraculously returned and Starbuck took him in his arms, kissing away his happy tears. Then their lips would meet -
"It is 0730," the computer interrupted. "You have five messages."
With a sigh, Starbuck dragged himself out of bed, wishing that he could just hide away from everything today. But he had a patrol with Boomer and two new pilots that he couldn't miss. He was going to be late as it was.
*
Boomer shot him an annoyed look when he arrived in the launch bay, but chose not to comment on Starbuck's tardiness in front of the juniors. Besides, he was well aware of the date and the effect it would have on the Lieutenant.
The Captaincy sat well on Boomer's shoulders. Starbuck had turned down the promotion. In fact, the drive to quickly replace Apollo had made Starbuck so intensely angry that he could barely speak to Boomer in his early days as Captain. At the time, it had seemed to Starbuck that everyone was just trying to forget about Apollo, was moving on far too quickly. But, of course, he understood now. The position had to be filled. The senior staff had to take charge. Apollo couldn't be treated any more importantly than the many others who had died or gone missing. Still, sometimes "Captain" stuck in Starbuck's throat, and he stumbled when addressing Boomer. It was stupid, but he couldn't seem to help it.
"You okay?" Boomer murmured as they walked towards their ships.
"Yeah, great," Starbuck replied.
Boomer patted him on the shoulder, and moved off towards his Viper. With a sigh, Starbuck got settled in his own, half-listening to the launch crew go through pre-flight checks. Boomer was talking to the juniors, drilling them on engine ignition and launch codes. Starbuck realized he didn't even know who he was flying with, and he really didn't care, either. But, for the sake of form, he motioned to one of the crew, and asked who occupied the other ships.
"Ensigns Morgana and Roark," he was told.
Starbuck repeated the names a couple of times, to ensure he remembered.
"Blue patrol, you are cleared for launch," Rigel said over the comm.
*
In space, Starbuck went through the motions, speaking only when he had to. Fortunately, the Ensigns were good students and didn't require too much guidance. Starbuck struggled to keep his mind on the patrol, but Apollo's face kept flashing behind his eyes.
"Lieutenant Starbuck, please switch to private channel delta," Boomer said.
Starbuck switched. Now, no one could hear them.
"What're you thinking about over there?" Boomer asked.
"Guess."
"I know. He's on my mind too. Listen, a bunch of us are going to go have a drink, say a few words about Apollo. I think you should come."
"No, I don't think so."
"You worry me, Starbuck. You're kind of obsessing on this."
"Oh, so I should just smile and pretend everything's fine? Is that what you're saying?"
Boomer sighed. "Look, we all think about it, okay? But he's gone. You have to accept that."
"We don't know what happened. He might still be alive down there, wondering why we abandoned him!"
"I doubt it, Bucko. He would have found us if he could."
Starbuck said nothing. There was no point in arguing, he and Boomer would never agree. Sure, it was easier to think Apollo was dead, but Starbuck just couldn't quite do it.
"You gotta let go of this blame," Boomer said. "It's not your fault, what happened to him."
"Yeah, so everybody tells me."
"It's true! Starbuck -"
"Look, Captain, I really don't want to talk about this, okay?"
Boomer let out a long sigh, at being called "Captain" and at Starbuck's unabating guilt.
"Okay, Lieutenant. Switching back to standard channel."
They continued on in relative silence, talking to the juniors but not to each other. Finally, it was time to go back to the Galactica. With a sigh of relief, Starbuck turned for home.
*
It was all his fault, despite what Boomer, Adama, Athena, Jolly - despite what everyone said. He was the one who had barrelled ahead, after all, ignoring Apollo's pleas for caution. But when that strange planet had shown up on the scanner, it had acted like a beacon on Starbuck, calling him relentlessly forward. For months, all they'd seen was dead rock and ice, so this living world was a welcome sight. Against the black, it was a bright jewel of blue and green, lush and welcoming, an unspoiled garden.
"Something not right about this place, Starbuck," Apollo said. "Hang back. There's satellites in orbit, but no signs of surface habitation. That's a little strange, don't you think?"
"The satellites might just be claim stakers. Somebody's grabbed this place but hasn't moved in yet," Starbuck replied. "We should at least do a preliminary scout for useable resources."
"Too many to be just claimers. I'm reading 300, octagonal grid pattern. More like defence."
"They're too small, Apollo. These things couldn't kill a darbug."
"Yeah…maybe."
"What's the matter?"
"I don't know, but I suppose we can go a bit closer."
Starbuck hit his turbos and sped towards the planet. He really wanted to land down there, as his scanners were indicating breathable air. Oh, the temptation to walk around outside - the agroships came nowhere near replicating solid ground. But he knew Apollo wouldn't permit it, at least not today, but maybe tomorrow.
"Slow down, buddy," Apollo said. "Approach those satellites with caution."
"I'm telling ya, they're just claimers. I'm reading some transmissions, but no weapons charging. They're probably alerting the owners to our fly-by."
Starbuck had just finished speaking those words when something hit him. For a few dizzying moments, he had no control over his ship, and his instrument panel went momentarily dead as he spun around. But then his systems came back online, and he brought his ship to a full stop, checking his readings for damage.
"What the frack happened?" he asked.
"One of those 'claimers' fired on you," Apollo said. "A weak laser cannon blast, just a warning shot, I think. You don't appear to be damaged."
"Not very friendly."
"Teach you to listen to me, though, won't it?"
"Yes, Captain. Glad to have you out here holdin' my hand. But I think I will come back and join you."
Starbuck fired up his engines, was beginning to turn around, when another blast hit him.
"Okay, okay, I'm going!" he cried, but this shot had done some damage, the laser cannon had obviously increased in strength. "Uh, Apollo?"
"Be right with you."
For the next 3 or 4 centons, Starbuck wasn't really sure what happened. Cannon blasts came from everywhere, and his evasive manoeuvres weren't quite getting him out of range. But the satellites didn't seem intent on destroying him, merely disabling. He remembered seeing Apollo's ship only once, for a fraction of a micron, as it fired on a satellite. Then, all of a sudden, everything stopped. The grid shut down.
Starbuck let out a long sigh. "Guess we showed them," he said, to resounding silence.
"Apollo?"
Nothing on his scanner. No debris - thank the lords. But no ship, either.
"Computer, scan for vapour trail!"
"Trail located at vector 735mark9."
"Follow it!"
"This vector leads into the planet's atmosphere. Your hull has suffered significant damage, and will be further weakened by atmospheric friction."
"Yeah, fine. Now follow the vapour trail!"
Starbuck headed through the line of eerily quiet satellites, and down to the surface. He located Apollo's ship in an open, grassy area, and could see as he flew over that the canopy was open. He set down near by, hopped out of his ship and ran towards the other Viper.
"Apollo!" he said into his communicator. "Are you all right?"
No response.
He climbed up on Apollo's Viper and looked inside the cockpit. It appeared that Apollo had gotten out by himself: the harness clamps were all undone, and his helmet was sitting on the floor. Starbuck looked down at the ground, searching for a trail of trampled grass. But the knee high blades just waved undisturbed slowly back and forth in the gentle breeze. He glanced at his chronometer. At most, Apollo would have been down here for, oh, 9 centons, he guessed. He should be visible, unless he was lying in the grass somewhere.
"APOLLO!" Starbuck yelled, looking slowly around him, squinting at the trees in the distance. His voice echoed in this empty place.
He hopped into the cockpit, activated the scanner and had it search for human lifeforms. Nothing, and the range of the scanner was certainly a lot farther than Apollo could have walked in this short space of time. And why would he go anywhere? Unless he was forced to. Starbuck checked the logs, both the automated computer one and Captain's flight log. The computer hadn't recorded anything approaching the ship, and Apollo had made no entries when he landed. He just inexplicably got out of the Viper and went - where?
Now Starbuck was worried. He climbed out and stood uncertainly in the grass, then took a slow walk around Apollo's ship, just to be sure he hadn't missed anything. He yelled a few more times, but only his own voice came back to him, which was merely unnerving. Well, he thought, I've got to at least do a short search… Starbuck unholstered his laser, made sure it was charged, and started off in the direction Apollo would have faced when he dropped to the ground.
Two centars later, he collapsed in the grass in the shade under the wing of Apollo's ship. He'd done a wide circle around the two ships, climbing up on rocky outcroppings, shouting until he was hoarse. He was sweaty and tired, and now he had to go back. This patrol was long overdue for reporting in. Adama would send a proper search party.
But they'd have to find a way through that defence grid.
And Starbuck hoped the satellites wouldn't fire on anyone leaving the planet, just approaching.
With a sigh, and one last, slow look all around him, he climbed into Apollo's ship. The hull of his own was breached too badly to risk a long flight back to the Galactica. Apollo's Viper, however, was surprisingly undamaged, just a bit singed in places.
The defence grid ignored him when he exited the atmosphere. Starbuck hit the turbos and headed for home.
*
"Listen," Boomer said after they'd come in from patrol, "I didn't mean to upset you, and I'm sorry if I did."
"Yeah, I know. I'm not mad."
"I do think you should come down to the Officer's Club. Rumour has it that Adama's going to be there."
This surprised Starbuck. Apart from his shifts on the Bridge, no one saw the reclusive Commander. He quickly retired to his quarters, spending every spare moment with Troy. He rarely mentioned Apollo's name, treated Starbuck and the other officers distantly now, an invisible barrier constructed around him. It was a terrible thing to have to give up looking for your son. At the time, Adama reasoned that Apollo must have been killed accidentally somehow, that maybe he fell, or was attacked by an animal, but his words had sounded hollow to Starbuck, like the Commander was only trying to convince himself.
"I don't think I'll go, Boomer."
"You're isolating yourself, holding too much inside. You really need to talk about this."
"I have talked!" Starbuck snapped. "And I'm sick of it!"
"Okay, easy there, Bucko -"
"Don't you get it?" Starbuck continued, unable to stop himself. "He was trying to help me when I was being stupid! There's nothing for me to say, Boomer. There's nothing for anyone to say. I don't even know why the rest of you are bothering with this little memorial!"
Starbuck started away, but Boomer grabbed his arm and spun him back around.
"You listen to me," Boomer said firmly. "This guilty act of yours is gettin' a little old. And it's affecting your work. I thought you'd get better over time, but you seem to be getting worse. It's been six months, Starbuck! I don't want to start citing you for poor performance, but one more patrol like we had today, and I'm gonna have to."
"Yes, Captain," Starbuck said. "I will improve my attitude, if that's what you require."
"And that's another thing," Boomer said, his dark eyes flashing. "I don't like how you say 'Captain' sometimes. You think I don't notice? Well I do. I wasn't looking for Apollo's job, Starbuck, but I will perform up to his standards. I've been giving you a lot of leeway, because you're my friend, but that's gonna end now."
Boomer released him. Starbuck was too shocked by this sudden dressing down to reply. With one last glare, Boomer stepped around him, heading for the bay doors. When they'd closed behind the Captain, Starbuck took a deep ragged breath, and rubbed his eyes wearily. Then he too left the Viper bay, heading for the Commander's quarters to pick up Troy.
*
How long had he harboured romantic feelings for Apollo? In truth: always, but unacknowledged and ignored. He knew he had always been at ease in Apollo's company, right from when they first met, and between them unbreakable bond had formed…
A bond that continued today, even after Apollo's loss.
At least, that was how Starbuck explained his growing attachment to Troy. In the beginning, he'd had to force himself to talk to Troy, driven only by a vague sense of responsibility towards the boy, and a strong feeling of guilt. Now, Starbuck looked forward to their time together, and he thought Troy felt the same way. And, it was fun. Starbuck never imagined he could have fun hanging around with a kid, but he did.
They walked towards the shuttle bay, Starbuck noticing how tall Troy was getting. Only 11 and already past Starbuck's elbow; he even seemed to have grown since their last outing. Troy talked away about school and his friends and something Omega had shown him on the Bridge. The boy laughed a lot, but, being an orphan himself, Starbuck recognized some of the bravado as self-protection. And Athena had told him that Troy still suffered moments of deep despair. "It just comes over him all of a sudden," she'd said. "He'll say, 'I miss my Dad,' and there's just no way to comfort him." Starbuck would watch him closely today, on this sorrowful half-yahren anniversary.
In the shuttle, Troy settled happily in the co-pilot's chair, leaning forward to study the control panel.
"You remember what I told you?" Starbuck asked.
"Yup."
"Okay, fire 'er up."
He watched as Troy went through pre-ignition and engine start-up, then requested permission to launch. Starbuck took over then and eased them out into space. He steered away from the Fleet, going a short distance out, where he could let Troy handle the controls for a bit.
"She's all yours, kid."
Starbuck sat back, keeping one eye on Troy, and the other on the starfield. Troy programmed a circuitous route into the autopilot and let it take over. He had gone quiet, but looked like he had something he wanted to talk about. Starbuck braced himself, expecting a torrent of grief.
"I think there's something wrong with my grandfather," Troy said instead, surprising Starbuck.
"Why do you say that?"
Troy shrugged. "I don't know. But sometimes he doesn't hear me when I talk to him. And he sleeps a lot, says he's tired all the time. And sometimes he won't let me go out with my friends."
"Have you told Athena?"
"She knows."
Starbuck didn't know what to say. Adama was likely depressed, but refusing to admit it. The leader, after all, couldn't have any problems. There were too many people dependant on him.
"I think I want to live somewhere else," Troy said.
"Uh, do you have some place in mind?"
The boy nodded, snuck a glance at Starbuck. "With you," he said.
Starbuck opened his mouth, then closed it. Finally, me managed to stammer out a reply: "Oh, Troy, I - I don't know if that'd be a good idea -"
"I can't stay there," the boy said glumly. "I'll go crazy."
Troy ran his fingers aimlessly over the controls, while Starbuck tried to figure out why the boy would want to live with him. Starbuck had studiously avoided acting like a father -
"I miss my Dad."
The words came so softly that Starbuck almost didn't hear them.
"I miss him too," Starbuck replied, knowing how lame his words sounded. Surely there was something more significant he could say.
Troy looked at him steadily then, the unnerving, serious gaze of a child forced to grow up much too quickly.
"It's not your fault, you know," Troy said, "what happened to my Dad."
Starbuck looked down. "Well, I -"
"No, I thought about it, and maybe he didn't want to come back. He'd said a couple of times that he wanted to get off the Galactica. That looked like a nice planet."
Starbuck shook his head. "No, he wouldn't leave like that, Troy. He couldn't get back to us for some reason. Something happened to him."
"Do you think he's dead?"
Again, the serious, measuring gaze that Starbuck wanted to look away from, but forced himself to meet.
"I think it's likely that he is." By now, anyway.
"So you don't think he'll come back?"
Starbuck took a deep breath, wishing that Troy would stop asking these painfully direct questions.
"No, I wish he could, but I think he's gone."
Troy turned away, looking out at the stars, and Starbuck got all teary-eyed, which hadn't happened in quite a long time. But in speaking those words he was forcing himself to accept Apollo's loss.
"What happened on the planet?" Troy asked. "Nobody's ever told me."
"Of course we told you -"
"No, not everything. I heard Athena and grandfather talking when they thought I was asleep. I know you saw something, Starbuck."
Yes, he did see something, but what it was, he didn't know anymore. Just his imagination, or an apparition, or-
He sighed. Or Apollo.
"I don't know what I saw," Starbuck said slowly, "but I suppose you deserve to hear the story…"
*
It was the third day of scouring the planet for signs of Apollo. Beneath Starbuck's calm exterior lurked near panic. Using probes, scanners, ships, and their own eyes, he and a team of 10 others had searched 25 square kilometres, finding nothing but rocks and trees, streams and ponds. It was an idyllic place, under the warm close sun, with a clear blue sky stretching from horizon to horizon, completely uninhabited. Idyllic, except that this supposed paradise had swallowed up one of their warriors. Tension made Starbuck's muscles ache, and his heart raced from anxiety.
He wandered away from the camp they'd struck in the clearing where Apollo's ship had first set down. The sun was setting, the forest casting long, deep shadows, and Starbuck pushed his way through branches and underbrush, coming to a spot where a narrow fast flowing river widened and slowed, forming a small, calm pond. He sat down on the thick trunk of an old, fallen tree, watched the fading sunlight turn the water different shades of gold and orange.
Just as the sun dropped below the level of the trees, Starbuck caught movement out of the corner of his eye. In the shadows, to his right and across the small lake, something moved. Without thinking, he was instantly on his feet and following, heading to a narrow spot where he could cross the water. Luckily, the river was also shallow, not even reaching the top of his boots as he made his way quietly to the other side. Then he stopped, barely breathing, trying to distinguish between the sounds of the forest, squinting into the darkness surrounding the trees.
He saw it again, still to his right, but farther from the river. As he followed, he could see the being a little better, and determined that it was definitely humanoid, moving swiftly through the trees.
Starbuck didn't pay attention to how far they went, but soon realized that no matter how fast he walked, he wasn't closing the distance, almost like this being was content to have him follow, as long as he stayed back.
The forest was thinning now, the trees younger and much smaller, and the ground rockier. Suddenly, he was out of the woods and on the edge of a vast stony plain. Small tufts of hardy grass grew here and there, but otherwise grey-brown rock stretched as far as he could see. The sun hung close to the horizon, but after the dark forest it seemed bright to Starbuck, and he looked for the figure he'd been following.
His breath caught in his throat. Moving quickly across the rock, a short distance from him, was Apollo! Starbuck had been following him all this time, not realizing -
"APOLLO!" Starbuck shouted, setting off at a near-run, scrambling over the uneven surface, skidding on loose stones. "APOLLO, WAIT!"
Apollo wasn't wearing his flight jacket, just the tan uniform, which made him blend in with his surroundings. But Starbuck kept a bead on him, paid no attention to his protesting body as it slipped and he cracked his bones against the rock.
"APOLLO!"
Gods, Starbuck thought, he must hear me, he's not that far ahead -
He skidded to a halt just in time.
A deep, ominous crevice appeared before him, and he saw it at the very last possible moment, just before he would have pitched headlong into its jagged mouth. It was too wide to jump across, and stretched to his left and right as far as he could see. But Apollo had come this way, he was sure of it… Starbuck looked around desperately. The growing night however, obscured everything, so that he couldn't even see the ground, let alone Apollo.
"APOLLO!" he yelled a few more times, but only his own voice answered him, and he sank down onto the stone, tired and sore.
Above him, the stars now shone, but the air wasn't cold. Starbuck held his hand out, feeling warm breezes from somewhere, and realized that they were coming from this opening in the rocky surface. Some kind of thermal venting, like an ancient volcano slept beneath him. Well, he thought bitterly, at least I won't die of exposure.
It was too dark to find his way back to camp, and he wouldn't have left anyway, this being the last place he saw Apollo. At some point, he fell asleep.
He was shaken awake by an angry, worried Boomer the next morning.
"What in the six hells are you doing out here?" Boomer demanded.
Starbuck quickly got to his feet and looked around. Then he related what he saw to an openly skeptical Boomer. This area had already been searched, but at Starbuck's insistence they went over it again, finding no traces of Apollo's passage: no marks, no bits of DNA from hair or skin, no threads from his uniform. They even sent probes down into the crevice, in case Apollo had fallen in, but he wasn't down there either.
"Do you think your eyes might have played tricks on you?" Boomer asked gently, trying to calm a now frantic Starbuck.
"No! It was him, I know I saw him!" Boomer looked away for a moment. "Maybe," he said carefully, "you wanted to see him, so your mind created this."
Starbuck shook his head. "I'm not crazy!"
"I'm not saying you are, buddy. But he's not here, not in body, anyway. I suppose you might have seen his ghost."
"He's not dead, Boomer. He can't be."
Boomer put a hand on Starbuck's arm.
"Listen to me. The Commander's not going to let us stay much longer. We've got to move on. I just want you to prepare yourself for when the order comes, in case we don't find out what happened to the Captain."
Starbuck nodded distractedly, only half-listening. But Boomer was right. The order came the next day, despite Starbuck's report, despite his pleading and protests. In a near rage, Starbuck slammed the canopy closed on his Viper, asking himself why he was obeying this order to leave. But somewhere deep inside he knew there was nothing else he could do. Tears stung his eyes, and he did engine ignition more by feel than sight. On the way back through the inactive defense grid, Starbuck veered off and destroyed a couple of satellites, but the explosions only increased his agitation.
"Back on course, Lieutenant!" Boomer snapped over the comm.
Starbuck obeyed, the anger evaporating, leaving only utter defeat. Wordlessly, he set a course for the Fleet, giving up Apollo to his mysterious, unknowable fate.
*
"Was it a ghost?" Troy asked.
"I don't know. There's too many things about that world that we'll never be able to figure out."
"Then grandfather should have let us stay longer."
"He had everybody else to think about, Troy."
"Yeah, and this stupid quest."
Starbuck stared at Troy, shocked. He'd once heard Apollo use those words, in very private conversation. And Apollo had said them right after Serina was killed, when everything felt hopeless to him.
Starbuck had never shown much outward affection towards Troy, not quite knowing how to go about it, but now he reached over and stroked the boy's hair, sensing that some sort of comforting was in order. Instead of helping, however, it made Troy burst into tears. Starbuck froze for a moment, but then some instinct kicked in and he pulled the boy onto his lap, holding him gently. Troy didn't cry for very long, and became so still that Starbuck thought he'd fallen asleep, but then he spoke.
"Can I stay with you?"
Starbuck couldn't say 'no', couldn't risk hurting him any more.
"I'll have to talk to your grandfather and Athena," Starbuck hedged. "And you couldn't stay all the time."
"I know. It'd be like before, when my Dad was busy."
I can't be your Dad, Starbuck thought I hope that isn't what you're looking for.
*
Starbuck had never told Apollo how he felt. And, he reflected, he must have been giving off mixed signals: openly affectionate one moment, then abrupty pulling away the next. Starbuck had spent many centars imagining senarios whereby he and Apollo would be alone, and he'd be able to say what he so desperately wanted to. But somehow, it never panned out, even when opportunities presented themselves.
No, Starbuck didn't even press the advantage when he and Apollo were drifting once in a powerless shuttle, just the two of them huddled under a thermal blanket trying to keep warm…Starbuck couldn't remember anymore what they were supposed to be doing, but they had been heading to an outlying ship when suddenly one shuttle engine shut down, then the other, then all ship's systems began shorting out. They barely had time to transmit an emergency message to the Galactica before communications lost power. Apollo tore the top off the control panel, and frantically began pulling out the shorted circuits and rerouting power pathways so that they'd be able to keep life-support. Starbuck tackled auxiliary power, finding a partially undamaged pathway to an independent generator, not enough juice to start the engines, but enough to keep them alive. The temperature dropped quickly, and they had to keep blowing on their hands and wiping away condensation from the circuitry.
"Okay, I think we got air," Apollo said finally, sitting back in his chair.
"How about heat?"
"Just us, I'm afraid. Should be a thermal blanket or two in here though."
There was one small blanket. In dismay, they looked at it, then each other. With a sigh, Apollo unlatched a bunk on one of the walls and sat down on it.
"Come on," he said. "I'm freezing."
Starbuck settled onto the bunk beside him, and they sat close together, pulling their feet up under the blanket.
"How long 'til we're rescued?" Starbuck asked.
"Well, the tracking beacon's off," Apollo answered, "and inertia's taking us away from the Fleet. A while, anyway."
"Oh," Starbuck said, but he was hardly disappointed. He feigned being colder than he was, and snuggled up to Apollo, resting his head on Apollo's shoulder.
"You okay?" Apollo asked.
"C-cold."
"Here -"
Apollo shifted and put his arm around Starbuck, pulling him so close that with only the slightest movement Starbuck could have kissed Apollo's neck. Gods, he could stay there forever, drinking in Apollo's scent. Starbuck's heart sped up, and, feeling a little bold, he slipped his arm across Apollo's stomach…
And then it happened. Starbuck felt a light touch on the back of his neck and in his hair. Apollo's fingers traced random patterns, small caresses that sent electric shocks through Starbuck. And Apollo's heart seemed to be beating kind of fast, too, thumping away against Starbuck's ear. He raised his head, found himself looking right into Apollo's beautiful eyes, and their faces moved closer together -
The shuttle gave a sudden, violent shudder, and they broke apart, hurrying to the controls. Apollo cleared a small opening in the frost that coated the viewport, revealing that a small cargo vessel from the Fleet was towing them with a tractor beam.
"That was fast," Starbuck said.
"Yeah, they must have been out this way," Apollo replied.
The moment had passed. They seated themselves in their respective chairs and shivered the rest of the way home.
*
Sheba, of all people, had been the kindest to Starbuck. In the weeks following Apollo's disappearance, she had made it a point to speak to him, even though Starbuck found her interference irritating at times. But she was genuinely concerned, and Starbuck couldn't figure out why until she arrived at his quarters on the one month anniversary of Apollo's disappearance. She demanded to be admitted, and finally, after much stalling and protesting on Starbuck's part, he'd let her in, and she stood uncertainly just inside the door, blinking blindly in the dim light.
"I have something I want to give you," she said.
"What?" he replied dully, without inviting her to sit.
"A picture I took a while ago."
After a moment's hesitation, she crossed the room to a lamp, and increased the illumination. In her hand was a flatpic, and despite his annoyance at her presence, Starbuck moved closer. He'd always seen Sheba as a rival. Apollo had certainly been attracted to her, but was reluctant to become entangled, the pain of losing Serina making him wary. And Sheba had always treated Starbuck a bit disdainfully, blaming him for distracting Apollo with card games and drinking and triad, effectively monopolising the Captain's free time. At some point she'd changed, however, and had given up her pursuit of Apollo.
Sheba handed him the flatpic, and for a moment he was scared to look at it, but forced his eyes to focus on the captured image. He saw himself and Apollo, a head and shoulders shot of the two of them. They were sitting in what looked like a booth on the Rising Star, and Starbuck had one arm draped around Apollo, and was leaning in close, pointing at something off to their left. Apollo was following the sightline, and they both had amused grins on their faces, completely unaware of the watching camera.
"What's this from?" Starbuck asked.
"The party on the Rising Star celebrating one yahren of no Cylon encounters. I was sneaking around, snapping everybody. This one turned out the best, though."
Starbuck remembered that night, even thought he knew what they were looking at. They were watching Greenbean put the moves on an uninterested server, who accidentally-on-purpose spilled a drink down the front of his pants. After the drama had played out, Apollo had turned back to face Starbuck, and their eyes locked for a moment. Starbuck's heart skipped and he'd felt an urgent impulse to lean in and brush his lips over Apollo's, but instead he'd pulled back and announced he needed another drink.
So this picture recorded another wasted opportunity, another moment of cowardice on Starbuck's part. He handed it back to Sheba.
"You keep it," he said.
"No, it's for you. I'll put it away for now, in one of your drawers. You'll want to look at it again sometime."
She did just that, opening a drawer at random and dropping the picture in it.
"You know what I think?" she said.
"What?"
"I think you loved him more than you ever loved anybody else."
Starbuck was startled, and must have shown it.
"Don't be so surprised, Starbuck. That picture is why I backed off. I couldn't compete with you. You made him truly happy, and it took me a while, but I did eventually accept that he chose you over me."
"He didn't choose me."
"He absolutely did, but you wouldn't let yourself see it."
Starbuck swallowed hard, images from his past failures surfacing unbidden, culminating in the intense guilt he carried over Apollo's loss. He breathed deeply, slowly, determined to keep ahold of himself. But he felt pain in his chest, and his throat was closing.
"I'm not doing this very well," Sheba said, looking up at him. "I didn't come here to make you feel bad. I just wanted to give you that picture…"
She trailed off, traded words for actions, putting her arms around Starbuck. His eyes filled with tears and he clamped his jaw shut to hold back the sobs, but they fought their way out anyway. He dropped his head onto her shoulder and let himself cry.
"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I'm sorry…"
*
Starbuck lay on his bunk, thinking about Troy. He still didn't know what to do; the boy was obviously unhappy, but moving into Starbuck's quarters wasn't the best solution. He'd just be moving from one guilty and depressed guardian to another.
Yet, the idea did appeal to him. Funny, he'd never seriously considered having any children of his own -
Hold it, he said to himself. He is not your kid. He's Apollo's.
Starbuck reached over to the table by his bunk and picked up the flatpic Sheba had given him. He stroked Apollo's face with his finger, and the familiar ache took hold inside him. But it was only an ache now. He could look at Apollo's picture, or hear his voice in the logs, without completely falling apart. It must mean that he was getting over it, that slowly things were returning to a kind of normal.
"Well, buddy, I guess I owe you," Starbuck said to the picture. "If your kid thinks he needs a fool like me, how can I say no?"
He put the pic back on the table, feeling very peaceful, like this decision had lifted some great weight from him. But then, what better way to keep Apollo's memory than by caring for what was most precious to him?
Starbuck closed his eyes and drifted, thinking about what he would say to Adama, and about how he'd have to find larger quarters…
THE END