1. Come to Me Now

I Shall Believe

by Chione

Disclaimer: None of these characters belong to me. BSG is someone else's property, and I'm just borrowing them.

Authoress' Note: I realize this story has been done lots of times before. Baby!fic is all over the BSG fandom, but I'm hoping mine is just a little different. Anyway, that's what I like to read, so it's what I felt like writing. Please let me know what you think.

Picks up mid-flight in Maelstrom. Kara never spotted the bogey, and thus never exploded.

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The moment her helmet was off, she was sliding down the ladder and hurling the contents of her stomach on the floor of the hanger deck. Hushed whispers from the deck crew did nothing to deter her from hacking her stomach up through her throat. Acid burned a track up from her belly accompanied by a flavor that could only be described as foul, and she swore to herself for the third time that she was never eating algae--processed or otherwise--again.

Finally, stomach muscles fluttering and mouth raw, she rested back on her heels and hoped the bout was over.

The nausea had kicked in about halfway through CAP, but she wasn't about to tell Lee. He was worried enough about her state of mind; Lee finding out her body wasn't up to snuff didn't sit well with her. He should've just labeled her nuts and grounded her. It would've made this whole thing a lot easier. Instead he asked her to trust in him, if not herself, and gave her that damned pitying look. His eyes told her all she needed to know. How could she have fallen so far? He wondered. How could the mighty Starbuck burn out? Fall apart? Lose it?

She wanted to know the same frakking thing.

"Captain?" Tyrol's voice piped up from over her shoulder, quiet and unobtrusive.

Wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, she twisted her head the side, looking away from the mess she'd made on the deck. "Yeah, Chief?"

"You okay?" She didn't need to see his expression to know he didn't want to ask. Seemed no one wanted to deal with her these days. Not that she blamed them. She didn't really want to deal with herself either.

"Yeah, I'm fine." She pressed her feet to the floor and rose, turning around with a grin slapped on her lips. "I'm fine."

"Right." Tyrol nodded and clapped his hands together, motioning to Jammer. "Grab a bucket and get this cleaned up! Back to work, people!"

Apparently a crowd had gathered while she'd been puking, and she waved to them as they dispersed. Exactly what she needed, more people gossiping about her. Not only is Starbuck losing her mind, she's losing her nerve too.

She saw Lee standing by her viper, arms crossed over his chest and brows drawn down in concern. If he didn't stop looking at her like she'd fall apart at any moment, she'd hit him.

Except she didn't have the energy to spare.

So she brushed past him. Scooping up her clipboard and a pen for the post-flight, she fixed her eyes on the paper and ignored the slight shadow stretching across her arm as Lee stepped up beside her. Maybe he'd get the hint, although given his track record with her, she doubted it.

"Kara." His voice was enough to make her lose her train of thought. That pissed her off, but she refused to raise her head.

"Kinda busy, Lee."

He put his hand on her elbow and held it tight. His eyes were narrowed on her face, waiting for her to turn to him. Sometimes she wondered if he was really a cylon. How else could his eyes pin her in place like that, bore holes in her til she cracked?

It was with a huge swallow that she met his eyes. "I don't really want to talk about it."

He took the clipboard from her hands without losing her gaze. "Look, Kara. If you're tired, shaken up, tell me. I'll take you off rotation for a few days, let you get things together. It happens to us all," he said, taking extra care to emphasize the last sentence. "Even the best. But we need you as close to your best as we can get. We need every pilot we've got."

She closed her eyes. "Even the screw-ups?"

His lips pressed together, but he didn't respond. When she opened her eyes again, he was still staring at her.

"Kara, what happened?" He continued with a tight smile, "Things went well out there."

Squashing the urge to yell at him, to shout the truth to the entire ship, she shook her head. "You're right, things did go well. I'm a bit sick of this whole life, to be honest, but who isn't? I didn't throw up because of that. I haven't been feeling well this week. It's no big deal."

"Then get some rest." Grinning, he reached over and ran a hand through her sweat-soaked hair. "You look like shit. I'll take care of the post flight."

She wasn't about to argue. Raising her hands in mock surrender, she smiled at him warily. "Yes, sir."

As he started backing away, he tilted his head and touched two fingers to his forehead, giving her a salute and a cocky grin. "Good flying with you, Captain."

She managed a white-lipped smile and a small nod, pushing back the tears. She'd be sick on the floor again if she didn't get out of there now.

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"So how long have you known, Captain?" Doc Cottle's voice was far from amused.

"About three weeks."

He took a deep breath around the cigarette in his mouth. "I should report you."

She leveled her glare at him, a challenge in the quirk of her lips. "Should or will?"

"Should," he answered, shifting his attention down the the papers in his hands. "You're blood pressure's good, and everything is as healthy as can be expected. If you rest and take care of yourself, you'll be inflicting us with one of your offspring in six months."

She leaned her head back against the pillow and admired the ceiling of sickbay. A familiar sight. Maybe that's why she'd been putting this off for so long--that or denial. Ignore it long enough and it'll go away. Apparently, though, pregnancy didn't work like that. It tended to just get worse over time.

And she was getting fat.

Not being one for the traditional feminine paranoia about her looks, the surge of---shame? regret? that arose when her pants wouldn't come up past her thighs shocked her. Of all the things to be worried about. It was a constant reminder that her pregnancy wouldn't go away; this thing was going to be with her for the rest of her life.

She was going to have a baby, and after that, a child, and then a teenager, and then a whole other adult person that she made and was responsible for.

"Yeah." She tried to swallow with a dry mouth. "Just doing my part to repopulate."

"Spare me." Cottle pulled the cigarette from his mouth and blew smoke out into the room as he spoke, "I'm sending the report directly to the Admiral. You're grounded until further notice. You'll be able to pull light maintenance shifts and CIC if you want, but no more flying until well after the birth. Keep your exercise up, but don't overdo it and don't get yourself into any physical fights. Make sure you rest when you feel tired, and eat when you're hungry. The nausea should pass in a few weeks."

Nodding, she rested her arms across her stomach. Still didn't feel real.

"Are you going to tell me who the lucky father is or continue ignoring it?" he finally asked.

She shrugged. "Logic would tell you my husband's the father."

"You're not logical. And you and I both know it can't be Anders'."

Pursing her lips, she dragged her eyes from the ceiling and swung her legs off the side of the bed. "It doesn't matter, Doc."

He shoved open the curtain, muttering "The hell it doesn't. I guess we'll see when the thing comes out."

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"She's what?"

"Pregnant. A full three months. I've already put her on reserved duty."

Bill Adama sighed, running a hand down his face. "All right. Thank you."

Hanging the phone back on the wall, he sat himself down in his desk chair and dropped his head into his hands. Kara pregnant. He'd never thought--well, she wasn't the first pilot to find herself in such a situation, and he knew she wouldn't be the last. The human race needed babies, after all, and that's what happened when people grew up and married. But somehow, he'd never imaged Kara being a mother.

She was a pilot--a viper jock. A survivor. Shit happened to Kara and she got over it. But motherhood? That wasn't something a person just gets over, even Kara. For all he knew she was a woman--he'd seen a softer side, back before the worlds ended and the two had grown close as father and daughter--and she'd once been engaged to his son, Kara Thrace had never been mother material in his mind. He always figured his grandchildren would come from Lee.

"Bill? Is everything all right?" Laura asked, poking her head around the corner to where he was sitting.

He jerked his head up and scooted the chair back to stand. "Yeah. Everything's fine." Closing a file on his desk, he averted his eyes and kept talking. "That was Cottle on the phone. Apparently one of my pilots is pregnant."

A smile blossomed across her face. "That's wonderful news. We need babies, even if it takes a pilot out of the air for a few months--"

"It's Kara."

The president was silent for a moment, though her smile remained. "Captain Thrace? That's--unexpected. But she's been married for some time now, it's only natural she'd be ready to have a child."

He shook his head. "I don't think this was planned."

"These things can be happy accidents."

Looking up at her over the rim of his glasses, he nodded slowly. "Yes." He walked around his desk, putting an arm around her waist and leading her back the way she came. "We should get back to dinner. I'm sure Lee and Dee are wondering where we are."

They rounded the corner to where the small dining table was set up. Lee and his wife sat side-by-side on the opposite end from where Bill and Laura took their seats.

Lee quirked an eyebrow at his father. "Problem?"

They four had been dining when the phone call pulled Bill away, and when he didn't immediately return, the president had been sent to fetch him (and to make sure there wasn't catastrophic news to be had, as happened from time to time in their lives).

"Nothing serious," he replied, settling himself in his seat and reaching for the bottle of the Chief's brew in the middle of the table. Refilling his glass, he took a long drink before glancing over at his son. "I heard you flew CAP with Starbuck today. How did it go?"

Lee shrugged, doing his best to ignore the look his wife was giving him out of the corner of his eye. "Fine. She seemed kind of reluctant to fly at first, but once we were out there, she was fine." He poked at his dinner with the fork. "She threw up afterwards, which is unusual for Starbuck, but not anything to worry about. Pilots do it all the time after a tense flight."

Laura tilted her head toward Bill, thoughts carefully guarded in her eyes.

"She's been grounded until further notice." Bill said, drudging up the words from deep in his belly. They sounded rough, and scraped against his throat.

"Grounded?" Lee set down his fork. "Cottle left that choice up to me."

"Not anymore. She's pregnant." He took another sip of his drink before setting the glass down and meeting his son's eyes.

Lee's mouth dropped open, his jaw working to speak but no sound forming. The clang of Dee's fork hitting her plate startled him out of it, and he coughed a little, clearing his throat. Finally, he spoke, "Pregnant?"

"Yeah. Explains the throwing up, doesn't it?" Bill asked. "Never thought I'd see the day Starbuck had a child."

The encroaching silence was deafening.

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Kara threw her dirty socks in her pile of laundry and flopped back on her bunk. Hot Dog was snoring up above her and somewhere in the room, someone was smoking. She could smell it, and if they didn't put it out soon, she'd find them and throw up in their lap. People thought she was a bitch before pregnancy hormones got involved; they were in for a rude awakening. Children were not in her life plans, but if she was going to suffer through this, everyone around her would too. Misery loves company and all that.

Abortion had crossed her mind when she first suspected, despite it being illegal. There were ways. But life was something special, especially out here in the middle of space, on the run. With what was left of humanity clinging together for some kind of existence. The Gods had enough to punish her for--she didn't need more on her conscience. So a whining, pissing brat seemed to be in her future.

Kara Thrace would never make a suitable mother, and she certainly didn't want to try. But she wasn't just Kara Thrace. She was Starbuck and she could do anything. She never backed down from a challenge and wasn't about to start.

It took her a moment to realize she was well on her way to sleep. Fog had descended over her mind and senses. Her legs were still dangling over the edge of the bunk, and if she fell asleep like this, she wouldn't be walking for a day or two. Somehow, lost in her thoughts, she'd managed to close her eyes and drift away.

Long day. It seemed like weeks ago when she'd given the Admiral the Aurora statue, instead of mere hours. Not only had she seen a bloody child sitting in her viper, she'd flown with Lee for the first time in months (before New Caprica, maybe--she couldn't remember, and that told her it was long enough). They'd had an actual conversation.

Wherein he revealed how happy he was in his marriage. Exactly what she didn't need.

_"I'm happy for you. Really. But I thought you shoud know--I'm pregnant with your kid."_

Yeah. That conversation would go well. She really had a talent for frakking things up.

_Everyone's got a skill._

Pulling her legs up on to the bed, she rolled over and tucked her knees up to her chest, facing the wall. Lee probably wouldn't believe her anyway. She'd never told him Sam was sterile. A year on an irradiated planet will do that to you.

Closing her eyes, she pushed any and all thoughts of men and their idiocies aside. She needed sleep.

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Dee waited until they were back in their quarters and the hatch was closed to speak. She took off the jacket of her dress blues and hung it up in the closet, keeping her back to her husband. "How could you do this, Lee?"

He tossed his jacket on the back of a chair. "Do what?"

"I'm not stupid." Jerking things around in her locker, she tilted her head down. "It's only been a month since you supposedly stopped frakking her. You know as well as I do that kid could be yours. And I don't know how you could be so stupid as to get Starbuck pregnant."

"Dee--" He reached a hand to rest it on her shoulder.

"Don't tell me it's not yours!" She turned and slapped away his hand. "Because you don't know, do you? You're not sure. It could be. And then where will we be? You promised me you were through with her."

Cupping her face in his hands, he waited until he held her gaze before speaking. "I made a mistake, Dee, I admit that. And yes, it is possible that I--" He paused and blinked harshly a a few times. "It is possible. But I don't think it's mine. She'd be more than a few weeks pregnant."

"We don't know how long she's been pregnant."

"Then we'll just have to wait and see. But I told you I was done with her, and I meant it. You're good for me; Kara isn't. I know that." He brushed a kiss against her forehead. "I married you."

Blinking teary green eyes up at him, she bit her lip and nodded. "Yeah."

She stepped around him and started getting ready for bed while he stood in place, running a hand through his already mused hair.

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She awoke to the sound of hushed voices just beyond the curtain of her bunk. As consciousness slowly returned, the mumbles and soft ups and downs of deep voices became more coherent.

"She's been asleep since 2100." She knew that voice--Hot Dog.

It was only a short outlet of breath, but she knew immediately who was about to speak. There was only one man who could sigh quite like that.

"Let her sleep. I've already taken her off the flight schedule." Lee.

"Sir. Is it true she's pregnant?"

"You'll have to ask her that."

There was a strangled laugh from Hot Dog. "No thanks, sir. I'll just wait and see if she gets big or not. Dead giveaway."

In her mind's eye, Lee was shaking his head. "Get out of here, Costanza. I've got to talk to Starbuck when she wakes up and we both know she's not a morning person."

Hot Dog was asking if she was pregnant? Digging her teeth into her lip, she clenched her eyes shut. Doc Cottle must've already told the Admiral and word had gotten around, even if only in rumor form. She'd known it wouldn't be long before everyone knew, but less than a day?

Life on a battlestar.

She took a deep breath, rolling onto her back. Lee was waiting to talk to her, which meant he knew. He'd asked Hot Dog to leave, cleared the rest of the bunkroom if the lack of noise was any indication, and was sitting just on the other side of her curtain, arms crossed, boring holes in the fabric until she woke up and faced him.

Yeah. It was gonna get messy.

Maybe he was here to chew her out, CAG to lead pilot, for getting herself grounded. She doubted it.

If she took her time getting up, he'd sit there the whole time--the stubborn ass--stewing all the while and working himself up. A bitchy Lee was not something she wanted to deal with presently, but it was inevitable and she'd never been one to run from confrontation.

She ran from the fluffy stuff, like love and affection. Fights she could handle any day.

Before dread could stay her hand, she reached out and flung open her curtain, meeting the fierce blue eyes on the other side.

"Hi Lee."

"Kara." He looked exactly as she'd imagined, leaning against the table in the middle of the bunkroom with his arms crossed and jaw locked.

"How long have you known?" he asked without inflection.

"A month." She'd only _known_ for a day, since Doc Cottle confirmed it with a blood test. But she'd strongly suspected for a month (longer than the three weeks she'd told the doc) and she and Lee both knew which answer Lee was looking for. "Give or take."

"A month," he repeated. The skin around his mouth was taut. "Were you going to just keep flying?"

"No. I went to Cottle willingly so he could confirm it and assign me to reserve duty."

"What are you planning to do?"

She swung her legs up and over the side of the bunk so she faced him upright, hands bracing her. "I'm not planning on doing anything. These things apparently progress pretty well on their own. I get to just lay back and wait for six months before I can pop the kid out."

He blinked several times. "Six months."

"Yeah."

She barely finished the word before he cut in--"Is it mine?"

That was the question they'd been dancing around. The white elephant in the room, and he'd demanded an explanation for it.

She was Starbuck; she lied a lot. She could bluff her way out of a Cylon basestar crawling with inquiring skinjobs, and she knew it. But lying to Lee about this--that would cross a line she didn't want anywhere near.

His stare was penetrating, but all she could focus on were the blue of his eyes, the shape of his jaw and smooth, high cheek bones. Even familiar and comforting after all this time, they made her stomach churn in a way that pregnancy did not. She wanted this child to look like him.

Sliding her hands over the gentle swelling of her abdomen, she glanced down, away from his gaze, and answered, "It's mine."

"That isn't what I asked."

Of course it wasn't. But he should've known better than to ask. He didn't want the truth--that was clear when he chose his wife over her. She's put herself on the line for the first time in her life, offering to divorce Sam for him if he'd still leave Dee. The answer was no. Because he didn't trust her, didn't want to deal with her shit, and couldn't bear to leave his sweet and adoring wife. She couldn't honestly blame him. But none of that changed if her child was his. She wasn't about to ruin his marriage when things were "the best they've ever been." The statement may have flogged her heart every time she thought about it, but he was happy.

She'd ruined enough. It was getting old.

And she was tired. Allowing herself to fall back against the mattress, she turned her head to put her face in the pillow. She was tired all the time now, and being knocked up wasn't the cause. Exhaustion was her constant state of existence. What did normal feel like? What did rested feel like? They were dreams of a long-lost world.

Special destinies, children, frakking toasters and their prophecies, the Eye of Jupiter. The end of the world. Shooting her best friend. Sleeping with one man and marrying another. Could her life be anymore frakked up?

"Kara." His voice told her he wasn't going to let her get away with avoiding him. He really had some of the worst timing in the world.

"What, Lee? What do you want me to say? Why does it even matter?"

"It matters!"

She jerked to her feet, narrowly avoiding the top bunk with her head. "Fine. Yes, you contributed approximately half of the DNA for this thing. And yes, I'm sure. Sam can't have kids; in case you didn't realize, he spent more than a year immersed in nuclear radiation."

His sharp intake of breath made her pause, but only momentarily. She pressed on in a quieter voice. "So are you happy now? I gave you the answer you asked for. Did it change anything? Did it make us any less married to other people? It means nothing, Lee! It can't!"

She'd run out of breath by the time she finished, and her chest heaved, though she didn't think she'd done anything to be winded. He hadn't moved from his spot, hadn't shifted his gaze, and every moment he was silent broke her heart. Why had he come? What had he been trying to accomplish, if anything? She couldn't stop herself from asking.

"I had to know," he said. Without looking back at her, he spun on his heel and walked out, leaving the hatch open so she would watch him moving down the corridor. She'd expected nothing more.

It hurt to be right.

_It's good to be wrong._


	2. Lay Your Hands Over Me

I Shall Believe

Disclaimer: I don't own BSG. Portions of the dialogue here are lifted right out of the episode "The Son Also Rises".

Authoress' Note: Thank you for all the reviews! Thanks for reading, and let me know what you think!

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Chapter Two

It took a solid week for people to stop staring at her as she passed. Nuggets who saluted her still had to try to keep their eyes from trailing down to the extra weight she was carrying but few succeeded. Despite that, she was starting to think there were upsides to pregnancy, as people avoided pissing her off whenever they could. Not that they didn't before, but there was an obvious effort made to placate the violent pregnant woman. She liked people scurrying out of her way faster than they ever had before.

And they weren't cautious for no reason. The first day after word had gotten around, Racetrack had made a snide comment in the rec room that ended with the brunette's face planted in a table (again). As with the first time, Kara found it incredibly satisfying.

She could count on one hand how many people had ever respected Kara Thrace, but everyone respected her fists--she wasn't about to lose that because she had a baby feeding off her insides.

It'd been a week, and no word from her husband, Lee, or the Admiral. Helo had been occupied with moving as many civilian refugees off-ship as possible, but he'd managed to stick his head in the bunkroom to give her a smirk and a pat on the back. The only people in the world she cared about, and three out of four were ignoring her.

Sam's disappearance hadn't surprised her anymore than Lee's had. When he wasn't playing the role of husband, he had no place in her life. And a husband who hadn't fathered her child didn't appear to have much of a place either. It was the Admiral's silence that hurt. Their relationship had been strained since New Caprica, and his subsequent declaration of her being a cancer and malcontent. But they'd been making progress; they'd exchanged their morning banter for the first time since before the Pegasus had arrived.

But she was nothing if not resilient--especially when it came to the Adamas.

Which brought her back to reality, where she'd been called to the CAG's office at the end of her maintenance shift. The sweat down her back and under her arms belied her stoic expression as she stalked the halls. Her double tanks where riding up around the lump that was her belly, and grease coated her skin and the front of her pants where she had a nasty habit of wiping her hands. Lee was undoubtedly pristine in his uniform, sitting behind a desk and preparing to face her on his terms, in his territory.

Fine with her. She could fight anywhere.

The hatch was closed when she approached, and she raised a fist, knocking. He'd have to invite her in--that way he couldn't use her presence in his office against her.

"Come in." His voice was heavily muffled by the metal.

She opened the hatch just enough to slip through, letting it swing closed behind her. Walking over to stand in front of his desk, she settled in place at attention and stared at the wall over his head. "You asked to see me, sir?"

"Your name's been put on the waiting list for family quarters. As soon as one becomes available, you'll be notified. They're not large, especially for three people, but many families are managing and it's all we've got. That's all, Captain." He dismissed her without glancing up from his paperwork.

She bit her teeth together. "Three people, sir?"

"You have a husband," he said as if she needed reminding. Finally, his head lifted and a cool blue gaze swept up her body to settle resolutely on her left arm, the one marked with her marriage tattoo. Unlike everyone else on this ship, he'd managed to look past the baby bump without effort. And unlike everyone else on this ship, he was the only one who had any right to pay the least bit of attention. Stupid frakker.

"You and I both know Sam won't be sharing any quarters with me." Her jaw hurt from keeping it so tensed. She didn't want to live in the pilots' quarters, but an alternative solution hadn't been something she'd even thought about. Of course she couldn't keep a baby in the bunkroom.

Something akin to electric shock rose up her spine. This was real. In six months, she couldn't live in the place she'd been living for the past four years. There'd be a real, live baby to take care of and her life would never be the same.

_I guess that's all we'll ever be now, huh._

And she was doing it alone. There was something comforting about it too; she could manage on her own--always had.

"Kara?" he asked, hesitantly. "Kara--"

"Right," she interrupted, not wanting to hear anymore about how he had a wife and how happy they were together. Smiling the same thin, pursed smile she was getting used to, she nodded to him. "Thank you, sir."

She turned and left, knowing he wouldn't follow. She was late for an appointment with her rack. The nausea was returning with vengeance, and throwing up in Lee's trash can was not part of her plan. (Dee would not be able to accuse her of ever using guilt to make Lee cooperate.)

She didn't want his pity, either. If it hadn't been with him, she was sure it would've been with someone, and she'd be pregnant regardless. He was just the unlucky guy, in the wrong place at the wrong time who happened to make a baby with Starbuck.

The cylons were new to this whole creating life thing--they were wrong. Love had nothing to do with it.

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_The corridor is deserted, but that isn't what she notices. Up ahead is a doorway, and she knows that is her destination. Inside is what she's here for. Light spills out from the doorway, casting lines across the metal floor. It's warm light--too yellow to be the artificial bulbs found all over the ship. She's reminded of the sunsets on Picon and it hurts. The cylons have taken so much that can never be replaced._

_She walks toward the door, unable to turn away and determined to figure out the puzzle of her life. If she can just get there, she'll know. Everything to know is ahead._

_The doorway is closer than she thinks, and she rounds the corner, pushing her way into the light and into the room that awaits. When her eyes adjust, there's a room like any other on the _Galactica_, metal bulkheads and cool white lighting. Only seated on the floor in the center of an empty meeting room is a child, a girl of five or six with long brown hair. Her hands are busy in front of her, playing with a kitten that seems perfectly content to have her tail clasped in the child's hand._

_The little girl looks up, pale green eyes widening. "Hi."_

_But it isn't her the child is looking at, eyes fixed behind her. Turning, she spots Leoben in the doorway she just entered, his gaze focused entirely on the child. He speaks, ignorant of Kara's presence. "Hello, little one. Do you know who I am?"_

_The girl nods solemnly. "Yes. The Emperor."_

_------------_

_Kara jerks awake, and she's in her apartment in Delphi, curled up on the ratty couch. Her eyes find the painting on the wall, blue and red and yellow in circles, and the world seems to spin around the single focal point on the wall._

_"Hello, Kara."_

_She stumbles upright, nearly falling over the coffee table as she glares across the room at Leoben, seated calmly in a chair by the window. Light illuminates the back of his head, shading his face._

_"What the hell do you want?"_

_"You know what I want. You know what you're meant to do, you just don't want to do it."_

_"I have no idea what you're talking about."_

_"All this has happened before, and all this will happen again. You know that, you just don't want to accept it, or what it means."_

_She lets herself fall back on to the couch, licking her lips as she squashes the desire to scream. "What does it mean?"_

_He tilts his head as if studying her. "Where do you think all of this is going?"_

_"I don't know. The end of humanity or the end of the cylons. Take your pick. I know which one I'm rooting for."_

_He smiles. "The world ended. What comes next?"_

_"Nothing. That's what the end of the world means. Nothing comes next."_

_"Maybe something does. The world is always ending. That's the easy part. It's putting things back together that is the challenge." He points a finger at her. "That's where you come in."_

_She rolls her eyes. "You want me to put the world back together?"_

_"It's what you were made for."_

_"Made?" She can feel fear creeping up her spine. "I wasn't _made_."_

_He smiles again, the one that makes her want to drive a knife through his throat. "Weren't you?"_

_--------------------------_

Kara woke slowly, blinking the world into focus and struggling to remember where and when she was. The ceiling of her bunk stared back at her, and she knew the dream was over. She had an overactive imagination, and it really needed to stop. She almost preferred nightmares to cryptic messages that left her questioning her place in the universe. She knew who she was, and no dream-cylon was going to tell her differently.

"Hey."

Feeling her nerves leap at the sound of a voice, she twisted her head to the side. Her curtain had been pulled half-open, and her husband was sitting on a chair with his eyes pinned on her. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "So were you going to tell me?"

"Sam--" she trailed off. Running a hand through her hair, she glared up at the ceiling. "I'm sorry."

"Do you love him?"

"Who?"

"You know who."

She didn't answer this time. There was no use trying to make this thing work with Sam anymore, and she honestly didn't have the energy or the will to try. It had never been her intention to marry him.

_I'm not getting married, Lee._

What had made her do it? Knee-jerk reaction. A protective barrier that would ensure Lee kept away while she shelved her feelings for him in a safe, secure place.

A lot of good that did.

"I'll be on the Rising Sun. I've got a job putting together some pyramid teams for recreation. If you ever need anything, you know where I'll be." His voice was resigned like the day he'd told her to go to Lee. Here was a man who must really love her, and she never wanted that. "I hope things work out for you, Kara. I really do. You've been through a lot, and you deserve some peace."

He was up and out the hatch before she could process his words. When she did sit up, it was with the knowledge that she wasn't going after him. She'd imagined a lot of ways for her marriage to end, but this wasn't one of them.

Stepping out of her bunk, she noticed Stinger and Buzz hovering near their lockers, studiously looking anywhere but at her.

------------------------------

"All right. Skid's up in twenty minutes. Dismissed." He angled his head so the pilots only saw his hair, capping and uncapping the pen in his right hand. They cleared out quickly, and he was grateful. Nobody mentioned his slip-up. He'd given the wrong sector--a mistake he'd never made before.

He was losing his mind. And still all he could see was the image of Kara standing in his office, glaring defiantly over his head seemingly oblivious to the fact that her pregnancy was starting to show and that her tanks no longer fit the way they should.

She was really pregnant, and he had no frakking clue what he was going to do. Dee hadn't asked him about it again, and he made sure to keep himself as far away from Kara as he could until he figured out what the hell he was thinking. Twice in his life now he'd managed to get a woman pregnant and then walk out on her. Definitely not responsible father material.

Like Kara would make an ideal mom. Run away when things get tough--that was her motto. Parenthood would tear that apart.

"Son."

Lee looked up to see his father standing in the hatchway. The Admiral waiting until he had his son's eyes before stepping into the ready room.

"How're you doing?" the Admiral asked.

"I'm all right. Things have been pretty quiet and everyone's antsy. I guess we've gotten used to the idea that when things get quiet with the cylons, something bad is about to happen." He saw the scrutiny his father was giving him and looked back down at the papers on the podium. "Is there something you wanted?"

"I heard you talked to Kara. How is she?"

"Definitely pregnant," Lee responded before he could stop himself. It wasn't what his father was asking about, but it was all he could think. "She's good. Working maintenance shifts mostly. Chief says she's usually hanging around the birds looking for something to do."

"I imagine she's struggling with being grounded."

Lee dragged his teeth across his bottom lip and glanced up at his father. "Probably."

"It's been a stressful few years, for us all."

Setting his pen down, Lee stepped out from behind the podium. "Dad, is there a point to this?"

The Admiral nodded, placing his hands behind his back and pacing back and forth. "I've taken you off active duty for a few weeks. Helo's finished up with the refugees and he'll be taking over as CAG temporarily."

People were just blindsiding him from all directions now, weren't they? "What?"

"You need a break, son."

"So what do you expect me to do? Sit around for a few weeks?" He could feel panic rising at the thought. Nothing to occupy his thoughts aside from Kara and the mess he found himself in.

"No. I have a job for you. I want you to guard Baltar's new attorney. You heard what happened to the last one." Bill waited for his son to nod before continuing. "We can't let that happen again. There are too few people who would be willing to defend him and the president insists on this trial. You're the only one I can trust."

"I'm not a bodyguard."

"No. But you're stressed, and this will be a chance for you to get your feet back under you."

Lee shook his head. "I'm no more stressed than anyone else on this ship. What about you? Are you going to take a few weeks off to play bodyguard?"

"I'll be taking a few weeks off to act as judge at the trial. That's more than enough for me." Bill turned his head so he could glare over the rim of his glasses. "This isn't up for discussion. I have a report that said you chewed out Lamb for making a mistake nuggets make all the time."

"Nuggets also get chewed out all the time."

Bill narrowed his eyes. "You washed her out for a single, common mistake. That's not like you. And you've missed two morning briefings with Colonel Tigh."

"There were extenuating circumstances--"

"You have your orders, Major." Bill cut him off. Spinning on the heel of his shoe, the Admiral sent one last glare at his son before leaving.

"Frak." Lee ran a hand through his hair. Throwing his clipboard across the room, he cursed again, "Frak!"

He was losing it. For a few weeks, his life had been going well. His wife was happy with him, he and his father were getting along, he'd managed to fit Kara into his life in a purely platonic and healthy way, and nothing cataclysmic had occurred. Then this. Would he ever have control over his life? Would things ever go the way he planned?

He did not want a child. He'd already proven himself incompetent when it came to children. And he did not want to give Starbuck the chance to hurt him again. He couldn't even imagine her as a mother. Caring and nurturing? Starbuck? The concept didn't work. Didn't register as anything other than absurd. The two of them would make the worst parents in human history--hell, the toaster and her husband were probably better parents than they'd be.

Maybe, once upon a time, he'd entertained the idea of being a dad. It had been appealing, in a 'someday' kind of way. But that was before life had been condensed to living the rest of his life on a battlestar, fleeing the cylons and chasing an elusive hope of Earth.

If he hadn't asked, if he hadn't pushed her, she never would've told him.

He dug his hands into his hair and pulled, hoping it might drag him back to his senses. Gods, she wasn't even going to tell him. She'd been out flying CAP! She'd been drinking in Joe's Bar only a month ago--he remembered vividly because it had been when he'd finally resolved to let her go.

A voice in the corner of his mind couldn't help but point out that they wouldn't be in this situation if she hadn't rejected him--twice! And he couldn't resist the brief, vicious thought that maybe she'd done this on purpose, just to frak with him. To screw up his life when he'd finally gotten some sort of grasp on it.

But he knew better. Starbuck would never intentionally get herself pregnant. Though she'd never confided in him explicitly, he knew enough from Zak and from her own reactions to infer that her childhood had been less than pleasant. Her father left when she was young and her mother wasn't kind. He knew Kara's fear of ever having to deal with children herself.

It didn't prevent the irrational part of his brain from wanting to blame her.

It was as much his fault. He knew that. His mother had instilled in him since birth the proper response to situations like this--you take responsibility and you marry the girl.

Problem was he already had a wife, and Kara wasn't about to sit still and play family with him.

He backed up until his back hit the wall before sliding down to sit on the floor. Wiping his hands down his face, he let his head fall back and hit the wall.

--------------------------------

"I'll be in charge of your security. Take a good look around, and if anything is different, anything, get out of here and tell the marines outside." Lee made a point of not looking toward the lawyer seated on the couch across the room. He ran his hands along the shelves and swept his eyes throughout the small living space. This wasn't his arena; he was a pilot. But if he was in charge of keeping this man safe, then he'd do his job. It was something to do and it kept his mind off of less pleasant subjects. Like his wife, or Kara, or the fact that the woman who _wasn't_ his wife was pregnant with his child.

Yeah, he didn't mind playing security guard. What he did mind was the keen eyes watching his movements from behind sunglasses just a few paces away. The lawyer's name was Romo Lampkin, and he had a way of speaking that rubbed Lee the wrong way. Lampkin asked uncomfortable questions and looked at him like a scientist studying a very fascinating, yet inferior, subject.

"If they want to kill me, they'll find a way." Lampkin said, cocking his head back. "Now, who do I have to bribe to see the cylon woman?"

"All right." Lee said. He turned to face Lampkin. "I'll take you to her cell."

----------------------------

Lee leaned back against the wall of the cell, watching the dance Lampkin wove with words around the Six.

"I thought if I could get over her, I could get over anything. I could endure, conquer, be a man. Stand up to any kind of punishment." Lampkin's words caught his attention, and he crossed his arms, listening. "I clung to a empty, spinning bed for months. And that--that is when I finally realized how much I loved her. If I needed all that strength, what was the point? I needed to be with her."

The familiarity of the lawyer's words weren't lost on Lee. He knew his father and the president were listening in from the other room, and he knew Lampkin was lying through his teeth. It didn't matter--nor did Lee particularly care what the cylon had to say. Still Lampkin's words were ringing in his ears.

"Does your love hurt as much as mine?"

Lee wanted to hit something.

-------------------------------

News of the explosion spread throughout _Galactica_ before the day was over, and Kara found herself staring up at the underbelly of a viper, wondering what the Admiral had been thinking, assigning Lee to protect the lawyer. It had to be one of the most dangerous jobs on the ship at the moment, why would he give it to his son?

It wasn't any of her business, though, so she kept her eyes focused on the viper guts and listened with one ear to the gossip around her. It was apparently the second attempt at blowing this guy up, and the first time, Lee had been on the raptor with him. One marine dead and the lawyer in Life Station. Why anyone would put their life on the line to defend Baltar was beyond her. If Lee got himself killed, she'd never forgive him. He could hate her, ignore her, and push her out of his life--fine. But he couldn't die; that was unacceptable.

She'd only made the deal with him in the Memorial Corridor about who croaked first because she figured it'd be her. She was not pinning his picture up there--she'd go down to the underworld herself and drag him back.

"Hey, Starbuck!" A female specialist shouted from beside her feet.

Kara dropped her head back to the ground, glancing down to the legs of whoever interrupted her. "What?" She knew it was snippy, and didn't care.

Cally's face appeared as she knelt down to look at her. "I just wanted to say that if you need help--you know, with the pregnancy--I'd be glad to give you some advice or whatever. All my maternity clothes were lost on New Caprica, but I remember what it was like and I know how tough newborn babies can be to deal with, especially in our situations. So, I thought I'd--you know, offer to talk, if you want."

The girl had balls, Kara'd give her that. Cally was officially the first person to willing talk to her and mention pregnancy. But she wasn't interested in mommy chit-chat. She was going through with this because she liked the alternatives less, not because she wanted a kid.

"Sorry. Not interested." I'll be sure to come talk to you when those maternal instincts kick in and I actually give a damn, she finished in her head. It still surprised her most of the time that young Cally was a mother and playing house with the Chief. Made her feel old.

The girl's face hardened, and she stood. Her boots clicked on the metal as she turned and walked away. Kara felt a pang in her belly and wondered if the kid was kicking already, or if that was her conscience.

"Cally." She waited until the specialist paused. "Thanks. For the offer," she clarified and then, "I appreciate it."

Cally turned back, smiling lightly and nodding with her eyes deep. Kara was reminded once again that no one was young anymore. "You're welcome."


	3. Even if it's a lie

I Shall Believe

Authoress' Note: I can't excuse the length of time between updates other than to say real life is hectic. I am eternally grateful to everyone who takes the time out of their life to read this and perhaps leave a comment.

--

He spent way too long staring at the opposite wall. Faces were indistinct at this distance, the pictures of lost loved ones meaning nothing to him because he hadn't known them and there were so many. He hadn't been back to the Memorial Corridor since his conversation with Kara.

_You're a raving lunatic, as demented and deranged as the day I met you._

_And you're a bastard._

This wasn't the place he went when seeking solace, though he knew many of the crew spent time here as an outlet. He could count on one hand the number of times he'd been here, and two of them involved Kara. She'd been by frequently since Kat's death; maybe praying, maybe looking for her future, maybe looking for someplace to be left alone. It seemed to help her--maybe it'd give him the answers he needed.

His father's accusations echoed. Lack of integrity. The Old Man didn't know the worst of it. He'd run out on his responsibilities twice now, and it was worse this time around. He was older, and he knew better--he knew what a mistake it had been with Gianne yet he'd done it again. The Admiral was angry about him leaving the military. What type of confrontation would there be when he found out his son had left Kara pregnant and alone, betrayed his wife and his vows to the fullest extent? The shouting match they'd just finished would seem friendly in comparison.

Now he was defending Gaius Baltar, the twitchy, psychotic man he'd once punched Kara over. Irony was officially the defining force in his life.

And people wondered why he didn't believe in the gods. If they were this sadistic, he didn't want anything to do with them. It was a mystery how Kara managed to remain devout.

He wanted to hunt her down and demand to know what she thought about this, how she felt. She was the one person who could understand the situation, who could sympathize with him, and she was probably the last person he had any right to talk to anymore.

Well, he amended, Dee was the last person he could talk to about this, but Kara ran a close second.

Could he honestly spend the rest of his life watching from nearby as his child grew, knowing he had no place in his or her life? Kara lived on the same ship; he'd never be able to avoid the child. Or would it even happen like that? Would Kara hoist the kid off on the nearest bystander and climb straight back into her viper and booze? She didn't want a child either.

Did he really not want a child? He imagined a world with Kara as his wife, raising a little boy to play pyramid and build model vipers. It would be nice--but it wasn't real. Never would be, not for them. They'd blown any chance of that a long time ago, if there had ever been any chance at all.

If she was playing the role of wife and mother, would she still even be Kara?

"Guess I didn't have to wait long for an answer, after all, Major." Lee broke his focus from the wall and looked over at Costanza, standing a little ways away with a half grin on his face. The young, rash nugget had grown into a real viper pilot, tried and weathered as the rest of them. He was one of the old vets now. Only twenty-five.

But Lee had no idea what he was talking about, and it must've shown, because the younger man continued, "Starbuck being pregnant. I guess she's stopped consciously trying to hide it now. I thought it'd be a little while before she stared showing. But now that she's back to wearing just her tanks instead of her BDUs, it's much more obvious where she's put on some weight."

"Yeah." Lee nodded and looked away. He remembered.

Costanza got the message that Lee didn't want to talk, and stepped quietly forward, putting his hand on the wall beside Kat's picture. Tucking his chin back into his chest, he kept his gaze on the picture and stared.

Lee shook his head and stood. It was ridiculous for him to hang around the corridor searching for answers that dead people weren't going to provide. And it was probably disrespectful to those who came here in actual mourning.

He wasn't ready to face his life again quite yet, but no one had ever asked what he was ready for. Rolling his eyes upward at himself, he paused with one foot out the hatch. With a sigh, he turned his head back and rest his hand in the doorway.

"Hey, Costanza."

Lee had no clue what he was going to say when Costanza twisted around to face him, raising eyebrows in question. Why had he re-opened the conversation? He had nothing to say. Just a lot of thoughts that wanted out.

Rocking once back and forth on his toes, he smiled, tight and controlled. "I'm not a major anymore. As of today, I'm a civilian."

"What?" He couldn't have looked more shocked.

Lee looked away. He hadn't thought it'd be this hard. "I resigned. Helo will be the new CAG."

He was out the door before he was tempted to glance backwards.

--

Kara cursed the day she ever decided sex was fun as she rested her forehead against the stall in the senior officer's head. Her arms were wrapped almost all the way around her waist, a subtle tremor coursing through her upper body. Twenty minutes ago, she'd barged into the head with a barked order to clear out and had stumbled to the floor in front of a toilet before ridding herself of endless pulsating nausea. It had taken several solid minutes of retching and choked sobbing to assuage.

Her stomach fluttered with exhausted muscles, throat burning and a sickly sweet taste on the roof of her mouth. At least she didn't have to pretend to be hung over anymore, though she preferred hang overs to morning sickness.

It had been a tame pregnancy so far, considering it had taken two missed periods to even occur to her that something was off. The slight weight gain and extra tenderness hadn't registered, and until two weeks ago, morning sickness hadn't been an issue.

Now it was an issue. A huge, unnerving, irrational, unnecessary, aggravating issue. And unfortunately for her, it was coming on exactly in the morning, right when she was supposed to be getting ready for her shift.

Frak. Frakking hormones, and frakking men and their dicks. Sex wasn't worth this.

She dragged herself to her feet and over to the sink, splashing cold water on her face to get rid of the redness in her eyes. Everyone cried when they threw up, and if they didn't, they should. Throwing up sucked. If she could pass some of this on to Lee, she'd renew her faith in the inherent justice of the world.

It was a bit too much to hope for.

Risking a glance in the mirror, she stared head on at the dark circles under her eyes, the thin, pasty skin across her cheeks. Maybe this was what she deserved after all. Make your choices and live with them--well, she'd made the decision to sleep with Lee, and the consequences were hers to bear, just like those of marrying Sam.

It was time for her shift in CIC. Six hours dodging glares from Dee and awkward glances from the comm officers. No one was subtle about her pregnancy. Only Colonel Tigh seemed content to ignore her newfound growth and treat her as usual with gruff, curt words. CIC was the last place on the ship she wanted to be, and it was one of the only places she could still work. The longer her pregnancy went on, the less she'd be able to do where she belonged: the ready room, the hangers, the pilot's break room, and even eventually the bunkroom.

As soon as the nine months were up, she was getting back in shape and right back in the cockpit. She could handle only so much desk work.

The screeching of the metal hatch welcomed her into the headquarters of the last battlestar in existence, low rumbles of voices filling her ears and the lights of the navigational charts lighting up her skin in pale green.

Admiral Adama nodded her over. He'd been absent from the CIC during her shifts since the revelation of her condition, and this was the first time they'd been in close proximity. There was stiffness in the set of his shoulders, but the look in his eyes as he stared over the top of his glasses bolstered her courage enough to step up behind him.

"Admiral."

"Starbuck." He gave her a half-grin, and she saw the hesitance. "Congratulations."

Great. Was there anyone who thought she could do this?

Her pursed lips tried to smile but all it managed to do was make her look like she'd eaten a tack and was attempting to hide the pain as she swallowed, "Thank you, sir."

--

Dee was in front of the table in their quarters, arms pressed to her sides and hands flat against the side of her thighs. He recognized the sorrowful set of her eyebrows, and braced himself for a tearful lecture as he swung the hatch closed.

She didn't disappoint. "The Admiral told me you resigned. You gave up a successful career!–for what? This is who you are, Lee! You need this! You can't just resign."

"Dee." Pausing a moment, he wondered what he could say that would make her understand. Could she? He shook his head. "The military is not who I am. I'm not my father."

"That's your pride speaking."

"No, it's the truth speaking. I don't know what you want me to say." He spread his arms wide. "I don't regret it. I'm doing what I think is right, and I'm not going to compromise my beliefs because my father says otherwise."

Her eyes shimmered, and she blinked. "You really think that man deserves a fair trial. You're willing to lose everything to see a traitor have his trial."

"He's human; he has the same rights as the rest of us, and that includes an impartial trial. I don't care what he did."

"It's one man, Lee! It won't destroy our civil rights just because he gets airlocked. You can't tell me it wouldn't be what he deserves," she said, biting her bottom lip. She was wearing blush that offset her eyes and made them all the more bright. "It isn't your responsibility to defend him."

Running a hand through his hair, he ran his tongue along the inside of his teeth, trying not to scream. This was the last thing he needed–another fight with his wife. "Then whose is it, Dee? If we let one man lose his basic rights, we have nothing left to guarantee the same thing won't happen to someone else, and that someone else might very well be innocent. It's about precedent. It's about what's right. And you know what? I don't think I should have to lose anything. My father should understand that this is my choice to make, but he's never been very good at understanding, has he? And you're my wife. I thought you were supposed to stand by me, not side with my father."

"Yes–I'm your wife. That means I should be the one carrying your child." A tear fell down her cheek as she pressed her lips together. Her voice had lost all its volume. "Not Kara."

Why had he thought he could escape this conversation? Why had he thought for a moment that anything in his life could go smoothly? "Dee. That has nothing to do with this."

Tucking her chin down, she fixed her eyes on the bulkhead behind him. Her shoulders angled toward the floor and when she answered, her voice had lowered in pitch, "I think it has everything to do with it. You can't be done with her now. You're not the kind of man who can just abandon his child–"

He almost snorted. "Dee–"

"–much as I wish you were. But Kara has always been part of this marriage and now that will never change. What do you want me to do, keep pretending it's all right?"

"What are you saying?" He held his breath as he asked, unsure what answer would be worse.

"I'm saying I could've accepted sharing you with Kara." She let out a laugh, short and sharp. "I've been doing that since the beginning. But the man I married wouldn't take the coward's way out; he wouldn't run from his responsibilities. And that's exactly what you're doing–running away. You have a responsibility to this ship, this fleet. To your pilots. You can't just abandon them because of an argument with your father."

How could he have ever though she understood him? Oh, he was running from responsibilities all right, to her and to Kara, and to his child. But calling him a coward? His responsibility to the fleet was the one thing he wasn't running from. He handed over his wings and his life's work not to get back at his father but to preserve the basic structures of their system of justice. To prevent a regression in their civilization back to barbarism and corruption and class warfare.

Turning away from the fight, he unbuttoned his jacket and slid it off. He opened his locker and hung it up, wondering if he'd ever wear it again. Patting the fabric with his hand to smooth away any wrinkles, he finally shut his locker and faced his wife.

"Believe what you want, and do what you think is necessary. I'll do what I feel is necessary–stand up for what I believe is right. I won't compromise my beliefs anymore, not on this. The lines we draw are what set us apart from the cylons and if we cross those lines, we don't deserve to survive any more than they do." He set his face in resolve, jaw clenched and muscles in his cheeks tense. A part of him remembered his anger at Kara more than a year ago, before he took command of the Pegasus, when once again she'd bucked authority and gotten away with it. Every time he tried it, his world shattered. Kara's luck had always been better than his in that respect.

His eyes followed Dee as she knelt before her locker, dragging out a bag he hadn't seen since she moved in with him, and started filling it with her neatly folded clothes. She hadn't responded to his statement, only shook her head and stared at him through her tears. A sheen of them had settled in her eyes and didn't appear to be retreating any time soon.

"So you're leaving?"

"No, Lee." She stood, slamming the locker shut and picking up her bag with her left hand. Meeting his gaze, she shook her head. "_You_ left–a long time ago. Maybe you were never really here to begin with."

Anger and desperation kept his heart pounding, and he wanted to reach out and shake her. He would've if it had been Kara. "Dee, we've been through this. I told you I don't want to be with Kara, and I meant it." When his words had no effect, he continued, "I though you married me, not my career."

"Lately I've been wondering if the man I married even exists. You're turning into someone else, and he's not the one I married. I can't do this anymore." She walked over to the hatch and rested on hand on the lever. "I deserve better."

The hatch was left standing open in her wake. Lee ran a hand through his hair, cursed, and cleared the table with a single sweep of his arm. "Frak!"


	4. Say it will be all right

I Shall Believe

by Chione

--

The Admiral left halfway through her shift, and Kara thanked the gods Dee was scheduled for a different watch. After her morning, a reprieve was exactly what she needed. Proof, to her, that the gods were merciful. She was left with Tigh and Gaeta, the former watching her from the corner of his remaining eye and the latter shifting his gaze her way when he thought she was otherwise occupied.

"What're you planning on doing?" Tigh's scratchy voice interrupted her musings.

"About what?"

He pointed at her abdomen. "With the little Buckling. Buck-buck-buck-buck."

She glared. "What do you think I'm going to do?"

Circling to her side of the table, he stood at her side and spoke above her head. "There are bets, you know. Whether you'll last the whole pregnancy, or whether you'll find some way to kill the kid off. Or there's always the theory that you'll kill it once it comes out. You have quite the reputation among the junior and petty officers."

What could she say to that? The thoughts of killing her own child had crossed her mind, and what did that make her? Exactly the cancer her mother and the Admiral declared her to be. It's not like she had the slightest clue what to do with a baby, and she wasn't the best role model. Was she a coward for not aborting it? Or even forcing a miscarriage, which the Gs of flying would do if she'd kept it up much longer.

She'd thought about it. For days. Back and forth and all around the subject. In the end, it was the gods that made up her mind; she had enough stacked against her in their eyes. If she were to kill her own child, she would be defying the gods' will and ensuring that she never made it to Elysium. Not that she had much of a chance anyway, but there were lines even she was hesitant to cross (blowing up a civilian ship, for instance).

In the end, the idea of abortion reminded her too much of her mother.

"People need to learn to mind their own frakking business," she said, bending over to examine the star charts and turning her shoulder to Tigh.

- -

She closed the hatch behind her, tugging once to make sure it was securely locked. No one needed to come in to find their CAG like this. She'd been passing by the pilot's rec room on her way back to the bunk and seen the distinctive slump of the shoulders only Adama men could achieve. There were few things that could drive them into a bottle, and damn her, she could never turn from them when they were like this.

Lee stared at her as she walked over to him. Pulling out the chair across the table, she plopped herself down and reached for the open bottle of ambrosia.

His hand shot out, grasping her wrist. "You're not drinking."

With her free hand she grabbed the cap off the table and screwed it on the bottle. "Wasn't planning on it."

He let go of her, watching her set the bottle back on the table, but he didn't move from his slumped position, one leg propped on the chair beside her. The ambrosia was half-gone, and she knew he'd been here awhile. Did his wife wonder where he was? She wanted to ask, spitefully. She didn't. It wasn't any of her business, and for some reason that was stopping her when it never had before.

"Dee left."

Alcohol always had loosened his tongue.

She met his eyes, but they were carefully blank and told her nothing. "Why?"

He picked up the ambrosia, passing the bottle back and forth between his hands. "Apparently she can forgive me for having an affair, but not for resigning."

"So you really quit." She'd heard the rumors.

Tilting his head, he studied the sloshing liquid in the bottle. "Yup. Don't regret it either. I thought I would. Guess I didn't know myself as well as I thought."

Any other pilot might've asked how he could give up flying, but she already knew the answer. He liked flying, he was good at it, but he didn't live for it. She liked flying too, she was good at it, and for the longest time, it was all she had. Didn't mean she wouldn't give it up if something better came along.

"What are you going to do?" she asked instead.

"Help Lampkin defend Baltar."

She wondered how drunk he was. It took more than a few shots to make Apollo lose his cool--his tolerance was as high as hers. "You really think he deserves to be defended?"

"No." He shrugged. "I think laws are important. I think having a fair, impartial system of justice is important. If we don't have that, then we really don't deserve to survive."

She leaned back in her chair, dragged both her feet up off the floor and deposited them in his lap. The sudden weight startled him, and he gave her an odd look. One of his hands settled itself on top of her right foot.

Quirking her lips up at the corners, she spoke, "Never been a fan of laws, myself. They're as imperfect as anything else. If I think a law is good, I'll obey it. If I think it's bad, I won't."

His breath came out in a huff. "It doesn't work like that, Kara. If everyone only obeyed the laws they liked, people would be doing whatever the hell they wanted. It'd be anarchy. There has to be a system or else we're playing survival of those most willing to harm others to protect themselves--we'd be no better than the cylons think we are."

"So we should let traitors go free?" She liked the sight of his eyes lighting up in anger and indignation. It was better than blank.

He straightened up in his seat. "No. That's not what I'm saying. But we have to let even the worst criminals have a fair trial, and this? This is a farce. Everyone's already made up their mind that he's guilty. Most people don't even want to give him the formality of a trial!"

"You think defending Baltar will prove your point?"

"I have to do something." He spread his arms as if asking for suggestions.

She nodded. "Okay. Go for it."

"Go for it." He repeated, staring at her. "Just like that?"

_Just like that._

"Why not? If it's that important to you," she trailed off, shrugging.

He didn't respond, just watched her as his hand absently rubbed the arch of her foot. The bottle of ambrosia was back on the table between them, and she was acutely aware of where her tanks were riding up the rounding of her abdomen. She spent most of her time tugging them back down, but doing so now would draw too much attention to her pregnancy in front of Lee.

"Is that why you're in here drinking alone? Because Dee left?" she asked, because thinking down any other path was dangerous.

He tilted his head away from her, half-smiling. "I can't help but wonder if we'd all been better off dying in the initial attacks. We're not going to Earth. We're not going anywhere. We'll die out here, slowly." In a sweeping gesture, he opened his arm out toward the hatch. "Look what we've done to each other, what we've done to Dee and Sam. Think of what we'd have been spared if we'd all just died that day with everyone else."

This was not a conversation she wanted to have. Not with her feet swollen by six hours in CIC and a drunk, depressed Lee to remind her of all her faults. Nor did she particularly like dwelling on what-ifs; they tended to show in stark relief how horrible her choices have been. And she was sure Lee wouldn't have initiated it if he'd been sober. Hell, he wouldn't look at her if he were sober.

Blowing her remaining breath out her nose, she shook her head at him. "What do you want me to say, Lee? That you're right? We should've died? Well, we didn't. And I don't know about you, but I'm not in any hurry to correct that, especially not of my own volition. I didn't bring myself into this world, and I won't be the one to take myself back out of it. And in the meantime, whether or not I want to, I have to live. This is all we have, and yeah, it sucks. Yes, we're stuck on this ship with food made of algae and the same people every day, probably for the rest of our lives. But I'm not gonna just stop."

He was silent throughout her tirade, head tilted down until his chin nearly touched his chest, eyes eerily blue against the drab grays of their surroundings. "It seems pregnancy makes you philosophical."

"Funny, it makes you run."

His jaw locked as he turned his head toward the hatch. "I'd say it also makes you a bitch, but you've always been that way."

"Throwing up every morning does tend to make me crankier than usual," she said, pulling her feet up off his lap and dropping them back on the floor. "Trial starts tomorrow, and you can't show up hung over. Go to bed, Lee. If you're going to do this, screwing it up on your first day isn't going to help."

She stood and picked up the ambrosia, tucking it under her arm. Nodding her head at him in farewell, she turned to go.

His voice stopped her halfway to the hatch: "How is everything? With the pregnancy. Is everything okay?"

"Everything's fine, or so Cottle says." Turning back to face him, she crossed her arms. "Don't, Lee. This has nothing to do with you anymore; you've done your job. It was pure bad luck on your part to be in the wrong place at the wrong time to get me pregnant. From here on out, it has nothing to do with you, and let's leave it at that."

"Kara, that's not–" Lee paused, running a hand through his hair and tugging. Bracing his hands on the table, he stood and took a step toward her. "Why do we always do this?"

"Do what?" She knew exactly what.

"This!" He approached rapidly, too rapidly for her to back up and suddenly he was within touching distance. "We do this stupid dance and other people have gotten hurt. But we can't even do that anymore, can we? Because there's a _baby_ involved; a baby who can't have a clue how frakked up its parents are and can't help it either. _We're married to different people_. We've broken the laws of your precious gods, Kara. We can't even manage our own lives, and now we're responsible for raising and teaching someone else from birth? That kid's got all the cards stacked against him, and he isn't even born yet."

Kara was done ignoring the fact that he was drunk. "We? What we? There is no we, here, Lee. There's a me, and there's this kid. I'm probably the worst person to ever be someone's mom, and I don't even know if I'm going to attempt it! The only maternal knowledge I know are broken fingers and a cracked skull!"

She hadn't meant to say that much, hadn't meant to raise her voice so high, and she spun on her boot's heel, seeking the nearest exit. Any exit that got her away from Lee and this whole frakked up situation.

Two steps into the corridor, Lee's quiet voice––his drunk and depressed voice––halted her mid-stride.

"You know, for a little while there I almost believed you loved me. Guess that makes me the fool."

"This has nothing to do with love."

"It has everything to do with love! Don't you remember? 'Kara Thrace loves Lee Adama.' You shouted it to the skies. _I _shouted it to the skies: Lee Adama loves Kara Thrace. And I did. I do, damnit, and I hate it. Because I know the only way the two of us could ever be happy together is if we were two completely different people."

She turned, stoic. "But we're not. And this is a journey I'm taking alone, civilian."


	5. And I shall believe

I Shall Believe

by Chione

--

Admiral William J. Adama hated his title. Being an admiral was a stark reminder that he never should have been, and all that had been lost for it to be achieved. There should've been pride; he'd dreamed of that promotion since childhood, commanding his own fleet as a hero of the Colonies. He'd gotten a command, lesser than what he wanted but respectable, and had a family anyone would be proud of: two strong, bright sons and a wife who put up with far more than her share. Somewhere along the way, he'd gained a daughter, the tough, devil-may-care viperjock who'd loved his youngest son (and killed him––there was still a voice that couldn't let that go no matter that he'd forgiven her long ago).

Now everything he'd had was gone, and he'd been promoted in its place. Zak, dead; Lee, an insubordinate son who was ruining his own career to spite his father; Caroline, long divorced and dead; and Kara, broken on New Caprica and pregnant. He didn't want to be repeating hearsay, but words whispered amongst his officers said the baby wasn't Anders' and he could believe it. His love for her was like a father's, but he knew her faults well, and they had only continued to grow since her first suicide mission to Caprica on Roslin's orders. If something had happened, she never spoke of it and nothing was mentioned in her report.

This Kara Thrace was not the Starbuck he'd brought on board. And Lee wasn't the son he'd reconciled with on Kobol, wasn't the son who came to him for advice during his first command. He knew he wasn't the same man from more than a year ago, when he'd allowed the discipline and the military that sustained their existence to fall apart.

But Bill Adama was no fool. He watched his son give testimony, betraying his father's own words and betraying the President's trust. He watched Kara in the audience, her hair long around her face and expression carefully cool to the extent that he'd be fooled if he didn't already know how vulnerable the woman really was. And he didn't miss the blinked-away glances Lee would send her as he spoke of transgressions they'd all made since the end of the worlds.

A commander knew his ship and his crew. He knew there was sometimes a tension between Kara and Lee that shouldn't have been there, and he knew whatever was going on with his son had to do with more than just the Baltar trial. Tossing away his wings, acting rashly, ruining his marriage: those things weren't Lee. Something was wrong, and the father in him worried; the commander thought it best to let things play out on their own.

Observing the behavior of Kara and Lee further, he took note of her gaze fixed on the judges; Lee's flit every which way, but always ended up back at the blonde pilot. Bill wanted to demand what Lee knew––because he knew more about Kara's situation than he let on––but that bridge was ablaze. Kara rarely seemed inclined to talk since she'd first come to him and admitted her part in Zak's death. Not that he blamed her. His reaction had been insensitive to the fact that the strong woman had let down her walls, however briefly. She was like a daughter; but it was his _son_.

Ever since the announcement of Kara's pregnancy, his family, odd and dysfunctional it may be, had fallen apart. For awhile, it had seemed like Lee and Kara were back to their old selves, flying together and maintaining a loose friendship of mutual aggravation. The strange tension disappeared along with the sadness in Lieutenant Dualla's eyes. He'd been fine with it––more than fine. An unpleasant churning in his stomach arose at the thought of what those tensions might lead to. What they might mean. Lee'd invested his heart in Kara long ago, Bill knew, but she was not the woman for him. Lee needed stability. Lee needed someone who wouldn't break him when she left.

But enough was enough. If Lee was hurt by Kara's infidelity (to himself and to her husband), the physical proof of her faults, then he needed to get his head together and set his life back on course. And Bill needed to know that Kara would be all right with this child; he wanted to know if she'd be facing parenthood alone. As soon as this trial was over, he was sitting down with both his errant pilots and having a conversation neither would be enthused to have.

First he had to see to it that Baltar, the undeserving coward, received an impartial trial.

--

Lee should've been a lawyer. Or a politician. Kara watched his speech, watched the revelation come over the judges, the crowd, one by one. He couldn't convince everyone, of course, and President Roslin looked ready to airlock her ex-military adviser. Still, the man had a gift. If only.

She was there not as a grounded pilot or military guard, but as one of the survivors of the mess on New Caprica, one of the ones punished most by Gaius Baltar's attempt at presidency. Whether or not she wanted to see him dead, she hadn't thought much about. There were other things on her mind, but seeing him squirm in his seat reminded her of all the reasons she hated him. Her colossal mistake long ago, the night of the first Colonial Day celebration, and the fact that he'd ever willing surrendered to the cylons. He'd chosen his own life over hundreds of others, and that was a coward.

But did he deserve to die for a common human trait? For not being a hero? Probably not. Kara'd been a firsthand witness to the recklessness of Roslin herself, when she put the life of the fleet in the hands of a vision. It wasn't that Kara disagreed with Roslin's choice, but it did put her in a similar league with Baltar.

Why she even cared was a mystery. Maybe Lee was right and pregnancy made her philosophical. Or maybe she wanted to figure out what Lee had in his head to risk so much for the freedom of a traitor.

It was also a convenient way to temporarily avoid thinking about the frak-ups in her own life. At least she wasn't on trial for genocide. And at least Baltar wasn't the baby's father.

The baby's father was seated in front of her, and she couldn't glance in his direction. He looked great in a suit, always had, but it still seemed unnatural. He was less Lee when he wasn't dressed in his tanks or flight gear. Or maybe he was less Apollo. Either way, the intensity she could feel in his eyes even across the distance kicked her retreat instincts into overdrive. If only she had something else to do. The problem was that the more pregnant she got, the less inclined anyone was to include her in their schedules. Even the deckhands had refused her help the past few days. Granted, she might've been extra irritable from her confrontation with Lee, but she was still perfectly capable of fixing a damned viper. Hell, at this point she'd work on a raptor.

He had to bring up New Caprica. She had too many scars from that planet, one of them her idiocy in sleeping with Lee. Giving in when she knew better. Allowing herself to believe, in her tipsy haze, that Zak had never existed, that Sam and Dualla and every other obstacle had melted away so that they could be together. And she'd been so frakking charmed by his adorable naked butt standing in the field, his joyful shouts of love, that she'd gotten up and done the same. Shivering, exhilarated by the sex and the knowledge once and for all that Lee Adama loved _her_. Her, whose mother told her time and again the plague she'd bring to people's lives, that men would go to her for sex and take the sweet, pretty girls to love and cherish.

And she'd chosen Sam, who loved to have sex with her, who loved her for being wild and unlike any other woman he'd known, not needing him and expecting no commitments. While Lee loved her because underneath the tough-talking viperjock, there was a woman.

Most of the time, she didn't want him to know that, to think of her as such, but––sometimes she was grateful too. Because she didn't think Kara Thrace would still exist if it weren't for Lee Adama.

She was drawn from her thoughts as the judges left and the court adjourned. Someone came up behind her, and she whirled around before the woman could get any closer.

"Oh!" The woman said, raising a hand to her heart. She was older, mid-fifties, with short gray hair and flushed cheeks. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to sneak up on you. But I just had to come over and congratulate you. Even now, there are miracles in the world and the gods have blessed us with another child. I see so few young women who are getting pregnant, and in this time of such dire need. It was such a relief to see you sitting there!"

Kara glanced down at her arm involuntarily, seeing the fading tattooed words 'bona fiscalia.' Snorting, she brushed passed the woman and muttered, "Yeah, I live to serve."

--

Raising his glass, Lee clinked it against Lampkin's and tipped the ambrosia down his throat. They'd won. Against all odds and an entire civilization's worth of hate, they'd won. Baltar walked free, and some part of him didn't like that thought anymore than it liked the thought of him dying when so many others had been let off the hook. Like himself. He'd blown up a civilian vessel, over 1,000 souls, and he'd managed to run his marriage into the steel floor of the corridors in less than two years. He'd abandoned two children, one who might've lived, and one who might still. He wasn't one to begrudge forgiveness.

There was still time to go to Kara and beg. For what, he wasn't sure. They'd never be a proper family, and he knew mentioning any sort of commitment or relationship would send her running.

What if it didn't? Hadn't she said she'd divorce Sam, if he divorced Dee? But what kind of guarantee was that? How many times did he have to be fooled to learn never again? And how many times was he going to go back on his word that he was through with her?

As many times as it took to understand that he never would be.

_Am I really what you want?_

_Yes._

"Awfully pensive for the victorious."

Lee shook his head at the lawyer, placing his glass on the table. "I have a lot on my mind."

Romo smirked. "I can imagine. Most soon-to-be fathers do."

"I––what?" He couldn't have heard that right. No one but he and Kara knew and––Dee! He'd forgotten her, who knew and who had motive to spread the word through ship gossip lines.

"Your wife said nothing. I can see, you know. You don't stop looking at her, that pilot, and it's obvious enough your wife didn't leave you solely because you threw in your hat with the military." Lee was reminded of why everyone hates lawyers. "It helps that I saw you check her file when you visited me in Lifestation. No ordinary friend or co-worker has that kind of an interest in his colleague."

He wasn't going to lie. He couldn't, not about that, and Lampkin wouldn't believe him anyway. The knowing gaze of the lawyer over his sunglasses sent chills down his neck, like some part of his grandfather was peering out and scolding him.

Lampkin continued, taking a gulp of his drink and polishing it off. "The way I see it, you have only two choices: you can choose to accept the kid and be a father, or you choose not to. There are no in-betweens."

"It's a little more complicated than that."

"Yeah, you love her. That's bound to complicate anything."

Lee lurched to his feet and started pacing. "It's just, we're married to other people! She used to be engaged to my brother, and we've never had a relationship outside of an affair! Every time I've tried to get her to just talk to me, or open up, she's pushed me away and pulled someone else between us. There's no point in trying to make this work with her, because it always ends up the same. She runs. And I'm not going to be left behind again. I'm not going to lose anything else because of trying to make a relationship with Kara Thrace work."

"It has nothing to do with her." Lampkin said. There was a quiet shuffling as he removed his glasses and folded them on the table. Bare-eyed, he looked at Lee. "Your choice is not whether to have a relationship with her; you already do. You share a responsibility. It doesn't matter if you want to marry her or engage in relations of a more romantic sort. The choice is about the kid. Do you become a father, or not?"

Repressing his instinctive tremor at the word father, Lee refilled his shot glass. He didn't want to think about the situation in those terms. His Kara hang-ups were at least familiar, and he could face whatever came of his relationship with her, but an actual child? Lampkin was right; Lee knew that, but he still couldn't comprehend the idea of a baby made by him and Kara. The panic he'd felt with Gianne, the knowledge that he wasn't ready, might never be ready, was only magnified with all that their world had been reduced to. What sort of environment was a battlestar for raising a child? People were trying it, though.

And more than anything, he didn't want to become his father. Was no father at all better than a distant one?

Three years ago, he'd have gone to the gym with Starbuck and they'd have used punching bags and each other to work out their frustrations. He'd never have to explain anything, like a conversation with his father or most other women in his life, and afterwards, the problems were always manageable.

--

Cottle took the cigarette out of his mouth long enough to say, "It's a girl."

Kara stared at where his fingers gripped the thin stick and wondered how many more of them he had left. She didn't think anyone was manufacturing them on the ships yet. Her last cigar had been long gone before New Caprica.

"Captain." The doctor raised his cigarette back to his mouth and lifted an eyebrow. "You're having a daughter. Here's the heartbeat if you want to hear." He reached over and twisted a nob, then the sectioned off area was filled with the rapid thumping of a baby's––_her _baby's––heart. So much faster than anything she'd ever heard, it made her think of launching her viper, adrenaline high and cocky as hell, heart throbbing and pumping continuously against the rising Gs.

That sound belonged to a living thing, and it was inside her.

She'd never been more terrified in her life.


	6. I'm broken in two

I Shall Believe

by Chione

Authoress' Note: I have no excuses. I just have to say that the ending finally gave me the drive to work on this. The next chapter won't be as long a wait, this I promise.

-----------------------------

With the verdict read and Baltar officially released from custody, Bill sent messengers to inform Kara to arrive in his office at 0800 the next morning. An order direct from the Admiral. Lee would have to wait—he wasn't likely to respond to summons anyway, and as a civilian, the Admiral officially had little control over what he did.

But he was ready and waiting for Kara when the morning came. It was time to repair whatever damage had been done between them and he intended to find out the paternity of Kara's child, what sort of plans she had in place for after the birth. He'd asked Roslin about adoption amongst the fleet, and she'd been confident there were always families or couples willing to take in children. Whether Kara wanted to face up to the situation or not, and he was willing to bet not, it was time for her to be planning for the inevitable.

---------

"You wanted to see me, sir."

"Yes, I did. Sit down, please, Kara," he said, gesturing to his sitting room and offering her a glass of water.

She declined both. She needed her feet underneath her for this, or she was starting to realize. Conversations with the Old Man that involved sitting down and his placating tone never ended well for her.

"It's been quite a long time since we've really talked. I was thinking, given the circumstances, now would be a good time to catch up." He'd refused to sit down as she had, placing his unused glass of water back on the sidetable. "Kara, how are you doing?"

Keeping her hands clasped behind her back, shoulders pressed back and entire body standing to perfect attention, she fixed her eyes to the side of his head, on the painting of some ancient battlefield on Caprica. It had taken way too long for him to ask her that. If he expected her to give anything other than basic answers, like she might have before New Caprica and his hostility toward her, he was going to be disappointed. He was always disappointed with her.

"I'm just fine, sir. Somewhat antsy with nothing but desk work to do."

"I can imagine." The Admiral raised a hand to his forehead, scratching along his eyebrow. It took several minutes for him to decide on how to continue. "Cottle tells me you're four months along."

"Give or take."

"I take it you know who the father is."

She didn't answer, but inclined her head downwards.

"Have you decided what you're going to do?"

"About what, sir?"

He paused, glaring at her over the rim of his glasses. "There are plenty of young couples who'll adopt it."

"Her." The word was out before she registered the thought. An urge to defy anatomy and kick herself in the face with her work boots seized her quite suddenly at the expression shifting across the Admiral's face. Why had she said that?

His eyes—more like Lee's than Zak's, she realized suddenly—peered right through her.

"Doc said it was a girl," she continued, switching her weight to her other foot and resisting a need to seek the nearest exit.

"Kara, are you—" he seemed to struggle with the words, "are you planning on keeping her?"

"I wasn't really planning anything yet, sir."

There was that sigh of his, disappointment and a sort of half-breath as he braced himself to deal with her. She wondered why he even bothered expecting things of her anymore.

"I think it's time to start making plans." Turning on his heel, he strode over to his desk and lifted a file she hadn't bothered to note before. It was marked with the presidential seal. "The president has found a list of young couples willing and able to take in a child, and she's developed an application for adoption. These couples have filled them out, and she was hoping you'd consider looking over them and make your decision accordingly."

She took the file without comment, tucking it under her arm. "Will that be all, sir?"

He shook his head, gesturing again toward the seat. This time she took the hint, seating herself and giving an audible moan as the chair cushioned her back. It wasn't used to supporting all the extra weight she'd put on., mostly on her hips and breasts, and the small, ever present rise of her abdomen.

"I was hoping you could tell me what's going on with Lee." he said, sitting down opposite her and pinning her with his stare.

"I'm not sure what you mean, sir." It's not like she'd talked to him at all recently. Not since their disastrous meeting in the rec room.

"My son isn't himself, and the two of you haven't so much as looked at each other any time I've seen you. You were good friends, once. Now you don't acknowledge each other. I want to know what happened. I need my CAG and my topgun back."

Why did he even care? she wanted to demand. She had nothing to do with Lee's resignation, and her predicament couldn't be solved by making nice with Lee. It wouldn't get her back in the cockpit any sooner.

If the Admiral found out the child he wanted to put up for adoption was his grandchild—the thought alone nearly made her choke.

There was no way to explain to him that Lee was the father of her child, and they'd had an affair for months. That way back on New Caprica they'd started something, or maybe they'd started it from the beginning and just hadn't acknowledged it until then, but it culminated in the situation they were all in now.

"Lee and I didn't exactly see eye-to-eye on the events after New Caprica. Our tempers got the best of us, and I'm sure you can guess what happened next. Things haven't exactly cooled down yet. It's nothing we haven't done before."

She was almost proud of herself; none of that had been an explicit lie. And if it weren't such a dire matter, she'd laugh about it to herself for the rest of the day.

As it was, she just felt guilty.

Again.

----------

He sought out Helo. Not that their history was particularly friendly, but he was probably the only man Lee could think of who could begin to understand. And as an added bonus, the man also possessed an unusal insight into the mind and actions of Kara Thrace.

Maybe Romo was right. Maybe whatever he and Kara had or didn't have, maybe none of that mattered anymore.

Lee found him in the Agathon family's quarters, sitting at the desk doing paperwork. Scattered across the floor were an array of crayon stubs, swirls of colors and squiggly lines adorned the backs of old Raptor schedules and had been hung up above the bed. Hera's handy work.

"You wanted to see me, Apollo?" Helo asked. He'd motioned the shorter man in, only for him to stand silently by the hatchway, staring off into space.

"Uh, yeah." Lee walked over to the desk, picking up a framed photo of Helo, Athena and their daughter. Gazing at the little girl, he saw the mini-Athena with Helo's eyes, and wondered how on all twelve colonies he was going to survive this.

"Let me guess." Helo pushed his chair back, dropping the pen in his hand. "This is about Kara?"

He couldn't tear his eyes away from little Hera, picturing instead a small, blonde child with his eyes peering out of Kara's features who grinned with her entire face despite the state of her world.

"Yeah, about Kara."

"Does this have to do with the little Buckling?"

Lee finally looked up. "Little Buckling?"

"It's going around the ranks." Helo shrugged. "There's also a bet on who's the father. I think the tally is a bottle of Galactica-brewed Ambrosia, two turns on CAP duty, an extra maintenance shift, and one of the last chocolate bars in existance."

"She's married."

"The survivors from Caprica are, to a one, sterile. Cottle says Sharon and I were lucky to have left when we did, but there's no way Sam can father a child." Standing, Helo allowed his height to show as he stepped around the desk and took the photo from Lee's hands. "I think you and I both know who the father is."

Lee shook his head, the smile on his face bitter. "Seems like everyone knows."

"Not everyone. I just know Kara."

"So what the frak do I do?" he asked, turning suddenly and striding across the room like he could run every hall of the ship and still have energy to spare. "I don't know anything about being a father, and hell, that doesn't even figure in what Kara's going to do. Can you imagine her raising a kid? Can you imagine either of us? We have the most frakked up relationship in human history; frak, a human and a cylon make better parents than we would." Pausing mid-step, he worked his jaw and glanced at Helo, "No offense."

"None taken."

"I just don't see how this can possibly—ever—work."

Helo reached out a hand, halted Lee's continued pacing. "Apollo. Do you think I'd ever thought I'd end up here? Married to a cylon—the woman I love—with a daughter, living on a battlestar because the worlds are gone? I don't know how to be a father; I still don't. I mess up, and at least once a day I wonder how I ever thought I could do this. But I love her. I wouldn't trade her for anything and the only thing you can do is take it one moment at a time."

Lee was quiet. He ran a hand through his hair, focusing on the ground. "I didn't react well. And Kara isn't—receptive to the idea of me being involved. I don't even think she knows what she's going to do when the baby's born."

"Her mother abused her."

Lee jerked his head up, and the two men met each other's gaze.

"I know," he said.

"You need to talk to her, Lee." Helo took a breath like he wanted to say something else, but in the end, he shook his head. "Just talk to her. And try to be civil."


	7. And I know you're on to me

I Shall Believe

by Chione

------------------------------------

Sam didn't know what it was that drew him back to Galactica, but that's where he found himself. A song playing in his head, or maybe his bones, led him through the corridors, growing louder in his ears and thrumming along with his heart. Whether he was going crazy or not, he couldn't so much as slow his pace, and when he finally arrived, he already knew who would be waiting for him.

Saul, Tory, and Tyrol stood in the center of the room.

The music stopped.

_Two girls make their way through a tall, vibrant grass as tall as the smallest girl, the green of the land, the blue of the sky blinding. Arm in arm, the girls grin and giggle as the younger—short and brunette, hair cropped short around her face which is round and full and red with youth—stumbles every so often on the downward incline._

_The older one holds a long stick in her free hand, using it to balance as she steps, her curls bouncing in the sun and shining._

_In the distance, a flock of pink birds unlike any before seen takes to flight._

The four cylons saw each other come out of the vision.

Sam put his hand to his head and squeezed his eyes shut against the onslaught of possibilities ahead of them.

-----------------------

When Lee returned to his quarters—how much longer they'd be his seeing as his marriage was over and so was his career in the military—his father was waiting for him, seated at the small table. He'd helped himself to Lee's bookshelf, and was browsing through one of his father's law books.

"I wasn't aware an admiral's stars allowed for breaking and entering."

"The hatch was unlocked. I needed to talk to you, and I knew you wouldn't respond to a summons." Bill explained, rising to his feet and setting the book down, gently.

"Now's really not a good time, dad." Not when he planned to approach Kara before the night shift, before he lost his nerve. Not when the military, his career, was the last of his concerns.

"I know you're upset with Kara, and with me," he rounded the desk to stand face to face with his son, "but that's no reason to let your life fall apart. Your marriage, your career—"

"Why would I be upset with Kara?"

"I'm not blind, Lee. You have feelings of some sort for her and it's understandable her pregnancy might have—"

"I'm the father, dad. Kara and I had an affair months ago, and I'm the father." Lee stepped around his father, throwing his jacket down on the bed and jerking at his tie until it came loose. "Is that what you wanted to know? My life fell apart the day the cylons came back. And I'm sorry if you're disappointed in me, dad, I guess know you know how I've felt about you all my life."

The Admiral's face had gone hard during Lee's speech. His eyes narrowed, and chin clenched tight. Instead of responding, not taking his eyes off Lee until the very last second, he turned slowly, restraint making him tense, and walked out the door.

------------------------

She got back to her rack and flung herself on the mattress, ignoring the usual looks from other pilots in the room. They'd clear out shortly enough. That was one thing should wouldn't mind about the pregnancy: priority for private quarters. Even without the pregnancy, she'd be drawing attention for something or other. Maybe it was the hormones or maybe she was just getting old, but she was sick of it.

Didn't help that she knew exactly how much everyone had bet on who the father was. Everyone figured they'd either find out eventually when he came forward, or when the child came out looking like someone.

And most of them already believed it was Lee. That or Baltar. Or Helo. Some speculated it was actually Sam's, and others wondered if it was Ladykiller's. More outlandish guesses included Tigh, the Admiral, Hot Dog, and Doc Cottle.

The file of adoption applicants sat on the bed beside her, unopened. There was something stopping her from flipping through it, and looking too closely at what that might be scared her more than she'd admit.

When the room finally cleared out, she stood up, reaching in her locker for a set of clean tanks to put on. It's not that she wouldn't change clothes in front of others anymore, but the stares at her breasts, her hips, her obvious growth earned was a little more than she liked to deal with. Especially after her meeting with the Admiral.

"Kara. We need to talk."

Lee's voice startled her from behind just as she'd slipped the new tanks over her head. Standing in the hatchway, he had a perfect view of her profile as she slide them down the rest of the way, stretching the fabric to fit over her extra weight.

This she did not need right now.

"What's there to talk about, Lee? I think we've already said all we need to say," she said, pointed looking further into her locker.

"There's plenty more to say. This isn't about us anymore, Kara, and we need to discuss this." He stepped into the room, closing the hatch and spinning the lock behind him.

She pursed her lips, not saying anything.

"Will you at least look at me, Kara?" He moved in closer, cornering her between the door of her locker and its interior.

Turning so they stood boot to boot, she met his gaze and glared. (She pushed away the thought that if she arched her back just a bit, her stomach would brush up against his shirt.) "It's taken you a month to decide you had a part in this?"

"And how long did it take you to go to Cottle after you suspected you were pregnant?" he shot back.

"What do you want from me, Lee? We don't get the bright, shiny futures with rugrats, remember? You and me?" She gestured between them. "We're not cut out to be parents. And what about Dee? Is she ready to play stepmother to my kid? Somehow, I don't think so."

"Dee and I are getting a divorce." His voice was much quieter, inaudible but for their proximity. "I'm not the man she thought she was marrying."

"There's a lot of that going around," she said in the same tone, remembering the slump of Sam's shoulders when he left and the scoff in his voice that hadn't been there when they'd met.

Silence reigned after that, both finding their eyes drawn down to the obvious evidence of what they'd done. Lee took several steps back, finding the center table with the back of his legs and sitting, never removing his stare from her abdomen.

Her hands rose to frame the bump, fingers splaying across the skin and the cloth of the tanks. She might not always trust her eyes but the tangible growth beneath her palms was undeniable. And sometimes in the quiet of the bunkroom when everyone was asleep or on CAP, she imagined she could hear the rapid pumping of a tiny, all-too-real heart inside of her, a clock ticking down to—what?

Gaeta's voice carried through the speakers. "Prepare to jump."

Kara closed her locker, leaning back against it and letting her eyes fall shut. Jumping had never bothered her before, but something about it upset her newly-sensitive stomach.

"You okay?" Lee asked, rising to his feet and reaching for her arm.

The world stretched thin, her stomach jerked, clenched, and did a few turns before the world righted itself. She dropped her head back against the locker, swallowing hard.

"I'm fine," she said, still not opening her eyes, "You try—"

An explosion rocked the ship. Lee fell forward, his hand slamming into the metal beside her head with a bang as he braced himself from smashing her. Another impact sent the chairs scooting across the floor, Kara looked up, catching Lee's eyes.

"Cylons," they said in unison.

Lee straightened up, pivoting around to race for the hanger, only to stop mid-stride. He glanced back at her, the realization that he no longer had a place in the battle. He no longer had his wings.

"Go," she told him, though her fingers gripped the fabric of her tanks near to ripping. "We don't have enough pilots as it is."

The ship jolted beneath her feet once more, tremors running through the bolts and metal platting. Lee was gone when she looked up.

It took all her resolve—and the knowledge that no flight suit would fit—to keep her from following. To not be able to fly CAP, that was one thing. To be sidelined in a fight? That was harder.

Instead of the hanger, she headed to CIC. She needed to know the situation. If there was something she could do, she'd do it. Pregnant or not, she wasn't going to sit around doing nothing.

The corridors were hard to navigate with crew rushing in all directions, pilots having priority, others ducking out of the way as they passed. Kara kept one hand touching the wall as she half-walked, half-jogged through the halls, dropping a smirk at each soldier who stumbled when the ship took another hit. She'd never had a hard time getting around in the midst of chaotic battles, and that wasn't going to change, no matter how far her stomach stuck out and how heavy a child sat on her hips.

The hatch to CIC opened as she neared, a handful of marines leaving. She slipped in, eyes drawn immediately toward the Dradis console in the center. Enemy contacts littered the screen, vipers disappearing from their positions with alarming speed even as more enemy raiders showed up.

There were three basestars.

She heard the chords first. A simple string of notes growing into a familiar pattern, a melody she hadn't thought of since she was eight. The vision of a piano, strong, sinewy hands striking each note in time with her heart. The beating reverberated throughout her body, in her hands and her throat and her belly.

Galactica took another hit. This time sparks shot about as wires came loose above their heads, paneling falling across several communications officers. Adama fell forward on the star charts, Tigh holding tight to his headset as he shouted orders to the deck crew.

Gaeta hollered over the other shouting, "We've been hit by a heavy raider! Sir, it rammed the port landing bay!"

"Send in a team of marines! Don't let the DC crew near it until the area's been cleared of any cylons!" The Admiral turned his attention to Tigh. "Colonel, bring in the port pod, and re-direct all vipers through the starboard." Then he got to Kara, and there was rage in his eyes, not professional stoicism. "Starbuck, get down to the hanger deck and talk the pilots through their landing. It's going to get crowded."

---------------


End file.
