arrow_of_apollo: (Either | Swimming A Place of Quiet)
2009.18.B.3 - Hallucinations

When I was shot down during the Battle of the Resurrection Ship, I had a hallucination. I was strapped to my seat, the broken bits of the Blackbird floating in space around me, and I was drifting fifty klicks away from the heat of the fighting. From my vantage point, I could watch the whole thing-- the space between Galactica, Pegasus and the Cylon Resurrection Ship turned into a burst beehive of furious movement.

At the same time, some of the shrapnel, some shattered bit of my ship, had cut through the leg of my flight suit, robbing me of oxygen by slow painful degrees. I'm pretty sure I was conscious most of the time, but I wasn't really there, either.

Contains spoilers for the series finale, 'Daybreak' parts 1 & 2 )

arrow_of_apollo: (Civilian | Working)
Full circle. A lot of things had a tendency to circle around, Lee was beginning to realize, and very rarely in a good way. The whole "all of this has happened before, all of this will happen again" stuff was starting to get really frakking annoying, especially because it kept costing the fleet and the human race lives, time and everything else it could take.

With the strange political arrangement he had with President Roslin, Lee was constantly splitting his time between Colonial One and Galactica, so to conserve on Raptor fuel, he'd been assigned quarters on board the battlestar. Even though he'd volunteered to take a simple rack, the Admiral had insisted he get a junior officer's locker. Lee suspected it was partly, even if unconsciously, a message that he wasn't a soldier anymore, and didn't get to live like one.

That godsdamned circle had also brought back Ellen Tigh-- the final Cylon, as if the gods didn't already obviously have a frakking twisted sense of humor-- and the Eight model he'd met as Boomer, the one who'd nearly murdered Lee's father. And now, one more time, Boomer had betrayed them, stealing the Agathons' child, Hera, the only living human-Cylon hybrid.

Lee was reading the report on Boomer's escape, cursing quietly when a knock sounded at the hatch to his quarters. With nobody expected at this hour, Lee rose and approached the hatch. A sidearm he wasn't technically supposed to own was within reach. "Marines?" he called out to the guards stationed outside the hatch.

"We're here, Mr. Vice-President," came the confident reply. "Lieutenant Agathon is requesting to see you. Code is Nebula Three Victor," the Marine added, giving Lee the all-clear signal. Lee sighed. Sharon. She was going to be a mess, so he could only hope he could help.

"Let her in," Lee ordered, then stepped back from the heavy hatch.
arrow_of_apollo: (Either | Drinking Our Love I Don't Know)
Four months ago (Gods, he thought, has it only been four months?), when Lee had moved into this cabin aboard Colonial One, he had looked at the small space and decided that while it wasn't the familiar locker he'd shared onboard the Galactica with Dee, it was a hell of a lot roomier than a even an officer's rack, so things couldn't be that bad. And although he had come to feel comfortable with the space, it had never become a home. It felt even less like one now.

Lee felt a hot, wet tear roll down his face and he wiped at it angrily. He couldn't count the number he'd shed in the last twelve hours, every one of them searing, every one of them painful. Part of him wondered if he was mourning more than just a person, he was mourning everything she had meant to him-- more importantly, the things she had given him.

Even when they weren't together, even when Lee knew she was furious with him, Dee had always been a kind of beacon of hope. Not just for him, but for everyone aboard the battlestar, his father especially. Her faith in Admiral Adama had been unwavering, and her belief that Lee was a good man meant for great things just as firm. She had believed when they had not.

And now she was dead, because she had lost that faith, and had those beliefs shattered. The wasted, blasted Earth had broken all of them, but Anastasia Dualla had had the furthest to fall.

Lee reached again for the bottle of ambrosia-- a gift from Colonel Tigh, of all people, who had handed it over without comment-- just as a knock sounded on the hatch of his quarters. He was confused for a moment until he remembered that someone from Galactica would be arriving with Dee's personal effects. Still gripping the half-empty bottle, knowing he would need its help, Lee rose and opened the hatch.
arrow_of_apollo: (Aphena | Soldier | Want)
20.A.2 - "Help Me Make It Through The Night" Lyrics

I don't care what's right or wrong,
I don't try to understand.
Let the devil take tomorrow.
Lord, tonight I need a friend.

I was married, at least legally, if not in fact, to a wonderful woman I'd always known was way too good for me and definitely way too good to me, not with how badly I'd always done by her. She was married in every possible way, to a man I called my friend and who was probably respected by the crew of Galactica just a little bit less than the Admiral.

She had a child with her husband, a beautiful baby girl who meant more to her than the entire human race. I had no kids, but I had responsibility over every man and woman that flew a Colonial spacecraft.

I didn't love her, and she didn't love me. Hell, I'm not even sure if we like each other at all.

There was nothing right about any of it... except for the way it made me feel.

OOC: Warning - Contains graphic adult material )

(777, not including lyrics)
arrow_of_apollo: (Civilian | B&W | Shirt & Pants)
9.C.5. - "Life is a series of collisions with the future; it is not the sum of what we have been, but what we yearn to be." - Jose Ortega y Gasset

Lee Adama doesn't know who he is; more importantly, Lee Adama doesn't know who he wants to be.

Believe me, I've been hearing those criticisms my entire life. And frankly, there are all kinds of reasons that any decent head shrinker would assign to my particular personality flaws, and don't think I haven't been tempted to actually talk to one. I know I'm frakked up sometimes, and it's not like the Gods don't mind reminding me.

Captain. Lieutenant. Captain again. Major. Commander. Major again. Civilian. Attorney. Delegate. President.

I haven't missed it. I've been wandering, looking for an anchor point, trying to find the one thing or one person around which I can start to really define myself and my life, the way the human fleet has been wandering, trying to find Earth, someplace to call our own again so that we can start rebuilding a civilization.

But what have I found?

It's not duty. No matter how good a pilot I might have been, no matter how good a CAG or XO or even CO I might or might not have been, it got clearer to me with each passing day that I wasn't destined to wear a uniform forever. And it isn't Kara. There's a love there that can't really be explained, but it's not something you make a life out of. It isn't Dee, although it probably should have been.


And then there's Sharon. It can't be Sharon. There's more than frakking going on here, I'm not stupid enough to not realize it. But I don't know what it is, and that can't be. I think I might finally be closing in on a life I can call my own, and I can't let it fall out of control. Even if, around her, that's what I want to be.



Jun. 15th, 2008 10:01 am
arrow_of_apollo: (Adama | Zak & Lee Photo)
Thanks to [ profile] number_eight for the sentiments. There's nothing better or more important than family.


arrow_of_apollo: (Default)

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