Battlestar Galactica



Never Spoken

Rating: PG
Words: 411
Standard Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, plot, etc. are the property of Ron Moore et al.. The artist/author is in no way associated with Ron Moore and no copyright infringement is intended. This work is an amateur fan effort and no profit is being made.
Summary: Lee imagines things . . .


***

"What do you miss the most?" he wanted to ask her. That's how he imagined their pillow talk, if somewhere in the mists of future time and possibility she came back and they kissed instead of fighting. No one ever asked that, at least not where Lee could hear. He always heard the brusque talk of plans and possibilities, or the laughing camraderie between soldiers, the whistling in the dark of their huge foxhole they called the fleet.

"What do you miss the most?" he asked himself as he lay in his bunk. He missed his stable life, a life where he could avoid the things that hurt him, like his father, like Kara and the guilt he felt for loving her. He missed grass and sun, too, but in the fleet he'd never seen much of them anyway. Mostly he missed his routine. Did couples ask that of each other when they lay entwined? Did they let themselves say it in the privacy that exists between the lips of lovers, or was it taboo even there.

Did Baltar ask it of Kara? More than the thought of their bodies together, the thought that Baltar knew something about Kara that Lee didn't chafed his thoughts. Lee flexed his hand. It no longer hurt from punching her, and he wished it would. He tried to remember the scene, yet again, to look for hurt in her face, but instead he saw her smile from the presidential dance before.

Kara's dress was silk, warm and cool where it brushed against, then floated away from her body. He took her hesitantly in his arms when they danced, moved his feet slowly, to be careful of her knee, but even dressed up there was nothing ethereal about her. Instead he felt fragile next to her, as if she were real and solid and he was a mirage, a wisp of smoke that could be blown away. And then he was blown away. Baltar, the President, even Tigh, they were all more real to her than him.

"What do you miss most?" Lee had no idea what Kara would answer, what she missed most. He wondered if she even liked her life better now: more importance, more challenges, more people depending on her. A warrior lived for the chance to protect her people, and Kara was nothing if not a warrior.

"Here you matter more, I matter less," he whispered. "And I miss you the most."


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