Amanda Speaks!

“Starbuck.” Helo stopped her outside the Ready Room. “Have you talked to the Commander recently?” Kara narrowed her brows. “No,” she said. “We don’t exactly have family dinners together, you know.” He nodded. His hand pulled them to the side as the other pilots flocked in through the open door. She caught the brief glances in her direction, sharp stings pricking her neck. She needed to follow them in and ask what their problem was before the briefing. She wouldn’t be able to focus if it was festering in the air as the CAG droned on about Galactica’s last two weeks of life. “So you haven’t heard yet.” Helo shook his head. “I thought he would’ve told you.” “Obviously not.” More pilots passing by. “Lee’s coming aboard for the Decommission Ceremony,” Helo said. Lee. She still dreamed of second to last time she saw him: standing in the dark chapel at daybreak, waiting for her with shaking hands and his jaw clenched. Being there for her, as if she had given him any choice in the matter. Who gave you one, Kara? The Gods, the vows. The chains binding their hands together, the way he steadied both of them. His lips barely on her cheek, drying up the saltwater tears. She had clung to him in the hallway afterwards, then pushed him away when she’d realized people were watching. “We don’t need a reception. We don’t need to do anything at all.” Cruelness was her second nature, wasn't it? No, it was to save face-- to protect his reputation as the man doing the right thing. They couldn't touch each other. Not after everything. Husband and wife in name only to please the Gods. To make her whole. He still offered Helo a wad of cash to take her out and make sure she ate something. He still showed up at her doorstep the next day with a fresh bouquet of snowy white roses. “There weren’t any flowers at the ceremony. I’m sorry.”