BY YOUR COMMAND - Static ARCHIVE

 

Boomer watched Starbuck come across the mess towards him with a spring in his step and a song in his heart, grinning at everybody. He sat down at the table with a contented sigh and dug into his breakfast, shovelling it in like he hadn't eaten in weeks.

"I hear," Starbuck said between mouthfuls, "that there's a Pyramid game tonight."

"Uh, yeah," Boomer answered. "Bojay's organising it."

Starbuck nodded. "Think I'll check it out."

"Your luck has returned, has it?"

"You could say that."

Starbuck's gaze was fixed on someone across the room. Boomer turned in his seat to see who, searching amongst the gathered troops eating and talking. It took a few moments, but he found her: Ensign Jaena.

"So, uh, Apollo managed to get you home okay?" Boomer asked, turning back to Starbuck.

"Uh-huh."

"And?"

Starbuck didn't speak, just gave him a coy smile over the rim of his mug.

Boomer shook his head and pushed back from the table.

"Well, at least you're gonna be in a better mood now," he said, walking away.

*******************

It had been quite a night.

Struggling out of their clothes, the first contact of skin against skin sending electric shocks through Starbuck...Apollo fumbling with his belt buckle, desperate to get completely naked...

Apollo's gaze was possessive, watching Starbuck like he owned him and could do whatever he pleased with him. Starbuck was surprised by his aggession, by the force with which Apollo shoved him back onto the bed, climbed on top of him and took Starbuck's wrists, putting his hands up by his head, pinning him. Apollo's mouth covering his, tongue invading - Starbuck wanted to touch him, but Apollo wouldn't let go of his wrists.

"What do you want to do?" Apollo asked, looking down at him.

Starbuck knew what he wanted, but suddenly felt shy about voicing it.

"Do you want me to fuck you?" Apollo whispered.

Starbuck nodded. "Oh gods, yes," he answered, finding his voice.

"You sure?"

Apollo's grip had loosened, and Starbuck wrenched his arms free, pushing Apollo off him. Side by side now, Starbuck kissed him deeply, his hand moving down between Apollo's legs to stroke him.

"I'm sure," Starbuck said.

He couldn't begin to describe the feel of Apollo inside him. After the initial pain of penetration, Starbuck was only aware of his orgasm building. Apollo thrust into him, gently at first, then harder and harder, and Starbuck pushed back against him, wanting release, practically weeping for it, and finally ecstatic warmth gushed out from his balls, flowing across his abdomen and down his thighs as he came. He heard Apollo gasping and moaning, pushing hard against Starbuck, coming deep inside of him.

They collapsed beside each other onto the bed, not touching at first, letting their bodies cool. Then Starbuck moved over, snuggled against Apollo, revelling in the sweaty smell of the man, tasting salt when he kissed his neck. They didn't speak, drifted into a half-sleep, Starbuck feeling more content than he ever had in his whole life.

But then, Apollo's combadge sputtered to life, abruptly zapping them out of their euphoric state. They hurriedly disentangling themselves, Apollo reaching over the edge of the bed to snag his jacket and reply to the call. Tigh said that the Captain was needed on the Bridge, right frackin' now!

"I'll be there as soon as I can," Apollo replied, much to Starbuck's surprise.

"Negative, Captain, you will be here before I can count to a hundred," the Colonel replied tersely. "Tigh out."

"Well, I tried," Apollo said with a sigh, sinking back onto the pillow.

"At least they waited until we finished," Starbuck said.

"I better go."

"You got a bit of time," Starbuck said, sliding over on top of him. "Tigh's probably only counted to 20."

The feel of Apollo's body beneath him was incredible, skin against skin, mouths locked together, Apollo's hands on his back, his ass - then abruptly at Starbuck's chest, pushing him off.

"Later," Apollo said, laughing.

Starbuck watched him dress, hypnotised by every motion, by the exactness with which the Captain pulled on his tunic and pants, no struggling for armholes or legholes, the boots on with two sharp snaps. And Starbuck could see that really Apollo had already left, his thoughts turned towards whatever was happening on the Bridge. He stopped in front of the mirror to run his hands through his mussed hair, neatening it, then he turned to Starbuck.

"Am I presentable?" he asked.

"I like you better with your clothes off," Starbuck replied, "but this'll probably suit Tigh."

Apollo sat on the bed and leaned down to kiss him good-bye.

"See you later," he whispered.

"You're gonna be late," Starbuck said.

"The lift malfunctioned. It happens."

With that, he left. Starbuck curled up in the blankets, which still smelled of Apollo, and fell swiftly asleep.

*******************

It wasn't until he was nearly finished his duty shift that Starbuck learned Apollo was gone.

Not seeing the Captain for long stretches of time wasn't unusual, but Starbuck had half expected to hear from him. Part way through reading brain-numbing progress reports about the latest group of Cadets, Starbuck put down the datapad, unable to concentrate anymore on the statistics and names that tracked across it.

"Computer," he said, "locate Captain Apollo."

"Captain Apollo is not aboard the ship," the machine informed him.

"Is he on patrol?"

"Negative. Lieutenant Bojay and Ensign Lorai are on patrol."

"Then where is he?"

"That information is not available."

Starbuck frowned, then just shrugged. Maybe Apollo had just gone over to one of the other ships. Didn't matter, he'd turn up sooner or later. Hopefully, sooner.

The ship's comm whistled, and Tigh's voice boomed out at them all:

"All senior staff, report to the Commander's briefing room. Now!"

Well, Tigh sure sounded agitated, more than usual, anyway. Starbuck hurried from the duty office to the turbolift. In the Commander's briefing room, Boomer, Jolly, Tigh and Adama were already assembled. Bojay was missing, but he was out on patrol. That just left Sheba, and Apollo.

Wordlessly Starbuck sat down at the long table, shooting an inquiring look at Boomer. Boomer responded with a small shrug. Starbuck stole a glance at the morose Commander, who sat leaning on the arm of his chair, staring at nothing. Tigh fidgeted beside him. What was going on?

The door opened again, and Starbuck turned to look, expecting the Captain - but it was Sheba. She looked shaken, gave them all a small nod as she sat down. She placed her hands on the table, as if she needed the solidity of it to steady herself.

"Now that we're all here, we can begin," the Commander said, focussing his attention on them.

And with those words, Starbuck knew: something had happened to Apollo. His heart began to pound.

"Several hours ago," the Commander continued, "ship's scanners picked up an energy trail that was initially unfamiliar to us. However, a search of our databanks found that Commander Cain and his ship the Pegasus had encountered this before. Accordingly, a recon patrol was sent out, consisting of Captain Apollo and Lieutenant Sheba, because of her familiarity with the source. Lieutenant, would you please tell us what you found?"

"The energy trail is the same as one the Pegasus encountered one yahren after the great destruction of our colonies," Sheba said. "It is Cylon in origin, but different from what we know, in that it is the signature of a life-support system, produced by the organic race of Cylons, not the robot warriors that they manufacture to fight their wars. Ahead of us, gentlemen, lies a well defended pod of true Cylons, the second one outside of their homeworld ever encountered."

There was a short stunned silence in the room.

"Where's the Captain?" Starbuck asked, that question more pressing to him at that moment than any other about Fleet defences or strategies.

"As I said," Sheba replied quietly, "the pod is well defended. It is on a small moon orbiting a frozen planet. They saw us before we saw them, and there were too many fighters for us to handle. The Captain decided that since I had superior knowledge of these pods, I had to get back here at all costs. The last I saw of him, he was heading into the atmosphere of the frozen planet, with at least five Cylon fighters chasing him."

She said these words in a monotone, which belied the great turmoil she was feeling inside.

Starbuck felt sick, had to swallow hard and take a deep breath. He missed the first part of what the Commander said next.

"...for a battle. I believe we can assume that the Cylon Leaders are chosen from these pods. If we are able to destroy it, we can quite possibly throw their efforts into great disarray. In any event, the Fleet is now on red alert. Colonel Tigh shall set the defensive positions. Lieutenant Starbuck, for the time being you will be acting Captain for the troops. You will select from the trainees those with enough ability to be sent into combat. This could be a very important fight, and I intend to win it. That is all. Dismissed."

No one spoke until they were in the lift. Then Starbuck turned to Sheba.

"Do you know Apollo's last position?" he asked.

"I know where he entered the atmosphere," she replied. "But that's not necessarily where he went down. If he went down..."

"Starbuck," Boomer broke in, "we got bigger things to worry about."

"I know that!" Starbuck snapped. "But we should be prepared to rescue him, too."

"Easy," Boomer said, "Don't jump all over me, Bucko. We all want him back, just remember that."

* *******************

The responsibility made him sweat, gave him palpitations. Acting Captain, in charge of making all the selections and rejigging the squadrons, setting attack patterns... How did Apollo ever do it? He always seemed so calm, so focussed whenever there was a crisis, seemed to easily make decisions, and, for the most part, chose correctly. Starbuck rubbed his damp palms on his thighs. Well, it was done. Squadrons, flight plan, co-ordinated with defensive positions, all worked out.

Now, he just had to hope he didn't get everybody killed.

No, no, don't think like that, he said to himself. The troops have to fight well, it'll be up to them, ultimately.

He'd had to push his missing lover from his mind, but now that his orders had been submitted to and approved by the Commander, and posted for the troops, he had a free moment to let the pain of separation flood through him. How could this happen, he raged silently. How could the gods be so cruel, to give him what he most desired and then take it away again so abruptly? Was this some kind of lesson? Was he supposed to learn something from it?

"Sir?" asked a soft voice behind him.

He turned in his chair. It was Ensign Jaena, her eyes bright - feverish almost - from the adrenaline pumping through her, for she was about to enter her first fight with the enemy. She licked her lips nervously, stood barely inside the door.

"Yes, Ensign?" he said.

"I'm sorry to bother you, Sir, but - I, uh, I -"

She broke off, closed her eyes in frustration.

"Out with it, Ensign."

"Sir, it's - I just would like to know if anything's been heard from the Captain."

Starbuck shook his head. "No, there's been no word."

"Do you think he's dead, Sir?" she asked.

"It, uh, it's not looking very good," Starbuck admitted, a small twinge of pain jolting him around the heart.

She accepted the information calmly, with a small nod of her head. Then she looked steadily at Starbuck and said:

"I won't consider the possibility that he's lost to us, Sir. He's out there, awaiting rescue, and if there's a chance of him being found, I will find him. I promise."

She turned and left without waiting for him to reply. Starbuck sat unmoving for a moment, staring after her, her determination taking him by complete surprise. And it gave him the first inkling of why Apollo was attracted to her. She was strong and steely eyed, like Athena.

And Serina.

* *******************

The living breathing masters of the metal heads - Starbuck almost wished he could go into the pod to see how they lived, but the Commander had forbidden it. The pod was to be completely destroyed, no landing, no salvage.

But what if Apollo had been captured, what if he was down there...

No, Starbuck thought uneasily, he wouldn't allow himself to be captured, would take himself out first. He knows far too much...

In his ears rang the idle chatter of the members of the attack squadrons: Red, Blue, Green, and Gold, all plumped up to double their numbers. Only Starbuck was silent, and not paying much attention to what the others said either, so that he missed it when Boomer first addressed him.

"I said: 'Hey Captain!' That means you, Starbuck!"

"Sorry, Boomer. What do you need?"

"We got a couple of laggers," Boomer replied. "Check your scanner."

With a sigh, Starbuck studied the screen. Yep, there they were, two of Jolly's, not quite keeping up.

"Jolly!" Starbuck snapped. "Tell those two to get their tails moving!"

"I apologise, Sir," came the reply, not from Jolly, but from a familiar voice: Ensign Jaena! "Concentrating on my scans. Moving into proper formation."

"Ensign Jaena, I believe we had this conversation in class already."

"Yes, Sir. Again, I am sorry. Jaena out."

"Who's the other one, Jolly?" Starbuck asked. "And I don't want to hear from anybody but Jolly!"

"Captain, I've relayed your order to Ensign Friel," said Jolly.

"Okay, now all of you listen, because I'm only gonna say this once," said Starbuck, his voice tinged with anger. "Your chances of surviving these encounters increase exponentially if you stay in formation. You do not, I repeat, do not want to get separated from your squadron. Anybody breaking formation will be written up, if you're still alive, that is. Clear?"

Mumbled affirmatives filtered through to him.

"Captain, please switch to a private frequency," said Boomer.

Irritated, Starbuck switched.

"Well, those were inspiring words for our young recruits," Boomer said sharply. "You think you can leave your personal problems behind for a while?"

"I'm switching back," Starbuck replied. "Time for communications silence."

There would be no more words exchanged until the attack was underway. On his scanner, Starbuck watched Blue and Green Squadrons peel off to bear down on the target from different vectors. Surrounding the moon was a tight defensive grid of armed satellites, each with enough torpedoes to kill them all three times over. And then there were the fighters on the moon's surface...

At least Sheba had gotten a good look at the pod, and so far Starbuck hadn't come across anything to contradict her information. But why was it so far from the home planet, Starbuck wondered. Unless those sketchy, unconfirmed rumours about a plague were true, and this was a collective of uninfected individuals. That would certain explain their isolation and strong defences. They'd even want to defend against their own kind.

The first enemy fighter appeared as a brief blip on the scanner: one ship, probably out watching for them, now hightailing it back to the moon to announce their presence. Starbuck took a deep breath, adjusted his grip on the control stick. Automatically his mind entered combat mode, recognizing nothing but ships and targets, his sight reduced to a kind of tunnel vision, oblivious to his body or the interior of his Viper.

"Satellites powering up!" announced Boomer, Red Squadron leader.

On that cue, the defensive satellites launched warheads at them, and everyone dove into pre-set evasive manoeuvres. This first round of torpedoes, Starbuck knew, wasn't actually meant to hit them. It was exploratory, to get a handle on their flight patterns. With the next wave, the casualties would begin.

Then, from the moon, bright lights, visible to the naked eye, flared - flared seemingly right across the surface. How many fighters were down there? One hundred? Two? His mouth went dry. This was the first error in Sheba's scans. She could account for 16 Cylon triads - or 48 ships, more than enough in conjunction with their satellite defence grid. But this - this was almost as many as on a Basestar.

"Okay, boys and girls," Starbuck said over the comm, "we got a little more work ahead of us than we thought. Just keep your thumbs on the fire button and don't think about how many there are."

After that, he had no time for thought. Just before the Cylon fighters reached the satellites, a second round of warheads was launched so they could follow the missiles, and Starbuck found himself under some of the most intensive firing that he'd ever experienced. Just the fighters, or just the warheads, they could handle, but both of them together?

"Come on Bojay," Starbuck muttered, as he did wide sweeps, trying to lose a missile that had locked onto him. "Get that grid down."

Blue and Green Squadrons, who'd separated from them before, were waiting for two waves of missile launches before moving in to destroy the satellites. Finally, a quick glance at his scanner confirmed Blue and Green closing on their targets. So far, so good...

"Satellites are shielded," said Bojay, leading Green Squadron. "Making frequency adjustments to weapons, and sending new settings to the rest of you."

The info spread across his screen without Starbuck noticing, being far to busy trying to shake a torpedo. He pointed his nose down into a sharp dive just as shots fired over him. The Cylon fighters had reached them.

"I got the metal head," said a voice in his ear. "Hang on, Sir."

The Cylon behind him disappeared in a bright explosion.

"Watch the torpedo!" Starbuck yelled, but it was too late.

The warhead turned, sensing a closer target, and before Starbuck could come about to fire at it, the Viper that had saved him exploded. Starbuck didn't even know who the pilot was -

But there was no time to dwell on it.

"Form up!" he yelled into the comm. "Gold and Red, get into formation!"

"Once we're done with the torpedoes," Boomer replied, chasing one down.

"New wave of warheads launched," said Ensign Doane. "ETA in less than 5."

"Damn it Bojay! Jolly! Get those satellites down!"

"Workin' on it Bucko! Keep yer pants on!"

Starbuck did a quick count. They'd lost 9 Vipers so far between the two squadrons.

"All right," he said, "we got less than 4 to deal with the fighters. Get to work!"

Vipers peeled off in all directions, targeting the Cylon fighters, some of which had turned back to engage the Blue and Green Squadrons and protect the satellites. Starbuck saw nothing except his targeting scanner. He made direct hit after direct hit, and each flash of bright white signifying a destroyed Cylon craft increased his feelings of invincibility. It was dangerous feeling like that, some part of his mind knew; it made you act impulsively and foolishly, but then again, it had always served him well before. So when a glancing hit sent Starbuck into a fast spin, his surprise momentarily scrambled his faculties. He barely got control of the ship again before the enemy fighter could take a second, fatal, shot.

"Pathway cleared!" Jolly announced. "Heading towards the surface and the pod!"

The squadrons responded joyfully, fought with renewed resolve. The Cylons beyond the defence grid suddenly all turned and headed back to protect the moon, with Gold and Red Squadrons hot on their tails. There was one lone ship on Starbuck's scanner, heading away from the moon and the fighting, speeding around to the other side of the planet. A lone enemy craft, going to warn a nearby Baseship? No - Starbuck blinked, not wanting to believe his eyes. It was a Viper.

"Lone Viper, identify yourself," he ordered.

No response. Who was missing? Too many dead now to determine it that way. And then, instinctively, he knew who it was.

"Ensign Jaena!" he barked into the comm. "Turn around right now!"

"What's going on, Captain?" Boomer broke in.

"We got a rogue pilot, setting her own course. Can't waste manpower going after her."

But then, directly into Starbuck's computer came a set of co-ordinates. Jaena sent them just before she disappeared around the curve of the ice planet, where she'd be out of range.

He couldn't go after her. Even if he thought she'd found Apollo, he couldn't go. An intense dog-fight close to the moon's surface had erupted. Blue and Green Squadrons needed help. Starbuck hit his thrusters and sped down into the moon's thin atmosphere.

It was quickly over. The Cylon craft became easy targets as any direction they were receiving from the heavily damaged pod was cut off. The pod itself was a great silver dome, with the atmosphere inside it uncomfortably warm for humans: 47 degrees C according to the scanner. Scans also indicated that the true Cylons weren't very big, only about half a metre tall, unless -

Unless they were young Cylons. Unless they were children.

This made Starbuck briefly uncomfortable, until he remembered all the human children killed with the destruction of the colonies, and the children that flew around him right now, fighting and willing to die. He increased power to his weaponry, blew a big hole in the top of the dome.

"No more enemy craft on the scanner," Bojay said. "I think we did it!"

Joyous whoops erupted from the remaining pilots. Even Starbuck had to smile.

"I want the surface of this moon completely cleaned off," he said. "Lieutenant Boomer, you have command of the troops. Return to the Galactica on his say-so."

"Where are you going?" Boomer asked.

"I'm going after the rogue. I'll catch up with you later."

Starbuck swerved up and away from the moon, inputting the co-ordinates into the navigational computer and letting autopilot take over. The planet below was experiencing an ice age, massive glaciers creeping across its entire surface, obliterating any life that might have existed. It shone a dull grey-white against black space, an impassive, blank face watching him speed by.

He didn't have to go all way to the co-ordinates. Two blips appeared on the scanner, coming towards him. Two Vipers, and his heart leapt. "By the Lords, she found him," he muttered, incredulous and happy.

She was towing Apollo's Viper. There was a faint lifesign inside it, Starbuck saw, consistent with a pilot in heavy stasis. All of Apollo's ship's systems -- except extremely low lifesupport -- were on complete shutdown, except for his shields, polarized so that any scanner beams would be deflected. It was a dangerous camoflague technique, completely against regulations. Shield generators had been known to overload and explode, the polarisation putting such a great strain on them.

Two of the engines on Apollo's Viper were also damaged, explaining why Apollo had put himself into stasis. Sometimes it was better to hide than try and outrun 'em.

"Lieu - I mean, Captain, a triad followed me," Jaena said breathlessly. "Managed to shake 'em for a bit, but they'll figure it out soon."

"No worries, Ensign," Starbuck said. "I can handle three. You keep going with the Captain."

"Aye, Sir."

"How'd you find him, anyway?" Starbuck asked, as the two Vipers shot past him.

"Oh, he told me once how to completely camouflage a ship. It's dangerous, and against regs, but he said it'd saved him a few times. On the way out, I set my scanner to look for a set of silian emissions, with particles broken down at 12 to the 19th power. That's decay rate of silian particles that flood this area of space, and when they bounce of the polarized shields they -"

"Okay, okay, I'm impressed," Starbuck interrupted.

"Chemistry and astrophysics are my best subjects, Sir."

"Well - good work, Ensign. But how'd you get your scanner to reach all the way around the planet?"

"Uh..." she hesitated, "I had to divert power from my weapons, Sir."

The scanner alarm sounded. The three Cylon fighters had found them.

"Get moving Ensign," Starbuck ordered, "and don't stop until you hit the Galactica!"

"Yes, Sir!"

Starbuck gripped the joystick tightly. It had been difficult to keep the excitement out of his voice while talking to Jaena. He owed her an immense debt of gratitude. She was truly a remarkable woman, he had to admit that.

The fighters reached him quickly, like they'd hit their boosters as soon as they spotted him. As usual, two of them peeled off to try and circle around him, while the third headed right towards him.

"You guys need some new moves," Starbuck muttered, hitting his thrusters to intercept them.

The first one lined up in his sights easily - almost too easily, he thought as he hit the fire button. One down, two to go...

No, one to go. Where was the third? He swore as Fighter 2 locked on and took a shot, aiming, Starbuck realised, at the same spot he was hit before, hoping to knock out an engine. Where was that third ship?

Then he saw it, speeding after Ensign Jaena and Apollo. She wasn't yet far enough around the planet to call to the others for help.

"Jaena -" he said.

"I see it," she replied.

"Don't have time for this," Starbuck muttered, swinging around trying to get behind his pursuer.

But the Cylon followed his every move, got off another shot -

Starbuck's left engine flared and went out. Power immediately switched to the other two, but now he'd lost some manoeuvrability and speed. He had to get to Jaena, especially if she didn't have fully charged weapons.

Setting the controls for evasive manoeuvres, Starbuck turned and sped towards Jaena. She had released Apollo's ship from her tractor beam, and was moving to intercept the Cylon approaching her. Starbuck knew he would get there faster if he could shake this fighter behind him...

He hit reverse thrusters, shot back under the enemy, imagining the three metal heads clanging together in confusion, wondering where he'd gone. The targeting computer was already locking onto the Cylons, just one twitch of his thumb now...and a most satisfying explosion lit up the darkness. But now he was farther from Ensign Jaena. She was trying to defend Apollo, staying close to him, limiting her movements.

Starbuck gave as much power as he could to his two remaining engines, muttering to the gods to please let Jaena fend off this fighter until he got there.

"Jaena! Try and lead the Cylon towards me!" Starbuck said.

She obeyed, but her inexperience was her undoing. Starbuck could only watch in horror as she blasted straight towards him instead of taking a subtler, more circuituous path so that the enemy would follow. The Cylon fighter hesitated, then turned towards Apollo.

"Oh god," Starbuck whispered, hurriedly diverting more power to his engines. Jaena realised her mistake. Instantly she turned back, barking at her computer to give her the firing vector of the Cylon ship. And then she steered her Viper right into it, placing herself between the enemy and Apollo, just as the Cylon fired - "Jaena, NO!" Starbuck shouted.

Too late. In slow motion, Starbuck saw Ensign Jaena's ship explode. The flash seemed to linger for several moments, and then his targeting computer established a lock on the fighter, and unconsciously Starbuck hit the fire button, obliterating the last of the enemy.

Heavy-hearted, he tractored Apollo's Viper back to the Galactica.

******************* *

Apollo had retreated into his quarters and into himself. Jaena's death had really shaken him, not just because of their past association, but because of how she died. She died for him, after all, had placed herself deliberately in the line of fire. It's too overwhelming, Apollo had said. I just need some time and space to deal with this, he'd said.

Time and space Starbuck could give him, wanted to give him, hell, had been giving him for the last couple weeks. But Starbuck hadn't expected Apollo to be so distant with him, to treat him almost like a stranger. It worried him, made him wonder what Apollo was thinking.

Made him wonder if Apollo blamed him for what happened to Jaena.

Unforturnately there was only one sure way to find out. He had to ask him. So Starbuck stood in the corridor before Apollo's door, steeling his courage. He was tired as it was time for his sleep cycle, but Starbuck knew he'd sleep better if he actually talked everything out with Apollo. He sucked in a deep breath and released it, and knocked on the Captain's door.

"Yes?" he heard from inside.

"Apollo, it's me. Can I talk to you?"

A short pause.

"All right. Come in."

Apollo was sitting at his small table, datapad before him, working. He had a serious, sad expression on his face.

"How are you doing?" Starbuck asked.

"I'm okay."

Starbuck longed to close the distance between them, but felt that Apollo wouldn't welcome it, so he stayed a short distance away. Apollo didn't even invite him to sit down, deliberately or because his mind was elsewhere, Starbuck couldn't tell.

"Look," Starbuck said, "I, uh, I guess I'm just wondering..." He trailed off, not knowing how to phrase his question.

"Wondering what?"

"Wondering if you blame me for what happened to Jaena," Starbuck finished, and he looked at the floor, not wanting any clues from Apollo's expression.

Apollo didn't answer for a couple of tortuous heartbeats.

"Blame you?" he finally said. "Why would I?"

"You've been so distant, I just didn't know what you were thinking."

Apollo gave him a half smile and shook his head.

"Do you want to know what I've been thinking about?" he asked.

"If you want to tell me," Starbuck replied.

Apollo got to his feet and came towards the Lieutenant. Starbuck just wanted to hold him, take away some of his sadness, but wouldn't make a move until he was sure Apollo would allow it. Apollo continued past him to a shelf that had artefacts and pictures on it.

"You know that Jolly built that old-fashioned imager, one that uses some sort of chemical paper," Apollo said.

"Yeah."

"To test it he took a shot of Jaena and I, and he gave me the picture a few days ago." Apollo handed the picture to Starbuck. It was a flat, two-dimensional image with a grainy feel to the back of it, not even in colour but in shades of grey, white, and black. Apollo gazed directly out of the image, looking like he was trying not to laugh, his eyes, even in black and white, containing an unmistakable spark. Jaena looked up at him, her expression one of complete happiness, a small, secretive smile playing on her lips. It was more like a candid shot than a posed one, the two of them captured with their guards down.

"I've been thinking," Apollo said, "that she must have really loved me to do what she did. And then Jolly gave me this picture, and I can see it in how she's looking at me. But I never noticed when we were together."

"It's just one picture, Apollo. You might be reading too much into it."

"Maybe, but it makes me wonder if I should have paid more attention."

Apollo replaced the picture on the shelf. Starbuck didn't know what to say. He certainly couldn't compete with the memory of a young woman who had sacrificed herself.

"Well," Starbuck said, "she's not the only one who loves you, you know."

Apollo looked at him sharply.

"Starbuck --" he said, in a tired voice.

"I know, I know, it's too soon, it's not the right time, it's not what you want to hear, but you have to realize what you're doing to me, treating me like a virtual stranger."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't sweat it," Starbuck said gently. "I'm pretty thick skinned, can take a certain amount of rejection, as long as it's only a certain amount."

Apollo sighed, came over to him. Some of the sadness had left him, and the corners of his mouth twitched like he wanted to smile.

"I don't know how you do it," Apollo said, "but you always manage to cheer me up. You never even say anything particularly cheery or comforting."

"It's my magnetic personality," Starbuck said, smiling.

"Yeah, that must be it."

"I never even got to welcome you back, you know," Starbuck complained. "You went right into seclusion."

"I know."

Apollo reached out and hugged him.

"Thanks for bringing me home," he said.

"It was Jaena," Starbuck replied. "I wish I could have saved her."

Apollo pulled back to look at him.

"I know," he said. "I know you did everything you could."

Apollo kissed him, a soft, loving kiss. Gods, Starbuck didn't want to let go of him, was only now realizing how close he'd come to losing him.

"I have a meeting on the Bridge," Apollo said, "so I have to go. In fact, you've kept me from finishing my report."

"Tell the Commander it's all my fault."

"Oh, I will."

Reluctantly, Starbuck released him. Apollo picked up the datapad, glanced quickly at what he'd written.

"I can probably finish it in the lift," he muttered.

"How long's the meeting going to take?" Starbuck asked.

Apollo was still reading his report, and answered distractedly.

"Don't know. Depends on how many windbags show up and if all their neurons are firing properly."

"It's just that I'm on a sleep cycle now..."

Apollo looked up, Starbuck's meaning dawning on him.

"In that case," Apollo said, "I'll keep things moving up there."

 

THE END

To Jealousy

CONTACT HEIDI