Eighteen Nights

Eighteen Nights

Chapter 1

Eighteen Nights

Night One:

Dee lies there as though he were an egg shell about to crack. He's sad and angry at the same time, so he just turns over, away from her, and admits it's what he wanted anyway, to huddle into himself and think of Kara. That's all that's left now, thinking - wouldn't she scoff at that. He has to tell himself over and over because he can't seem to believe it. Every atom in his body denies it, yet his brain argues, it's true, it's true, I saw it happen. She's not here, she'll never be here again. I'll never hear her crazy laugh, never smell her sweat, never feel her hair against my cheek, never see her bite her lip while she plans something deviously Starbuck.

That was how the night went, remembering everything he could. It started with that first evening in the bar; he couldn't remember the name of the place. Zak had been so excited and proud, and Kara had nearly won the local championship at darts. They had all ended up pretty high, and he had congratulated Zak as they pulled away in the taxi. That was how it had started.

It was amazing how much it helped, trying to recall every detail. He got as far as Anders before he fell asleep, somewhere around fifteen hundred. Two hours later the alarm went off.

Night Two:

Today was the funeral. Funerals are supposed to help those left behind say goodbye and move on. They had all gotten so very good at them, which wasn't the same as saying they were easy. Often as not, there weren't any bodies.

Helo got up there and told one of his old funny stories about her, which had actually lightened the place enough so that Lee thought maybe he was going to get through it okay. Being CAG, he had to say something. He had grasped the sides of the podium, stared across the tops of everyone's heads and, in his firm CAG's voice started right in on what a great pilot she had been. It was like reading from a cheat card, and he was fine until he imagined her out there laughing at what a lousy job he was doing. He could practically hear her heckling him from the back row. That's when he realized everyone was looking at him, and not a few appeared concerned. His lips moved and nothing came out, so he turned to his right and left the podium.

His father did a better job, right through the tears that poured down his cheeks.

Night Three:

Her picture is in his pocket. His pocket is connected to his pants, and they are hanging in the closet across the dark room. All day he couldn't keep himself from slipping it out and looking at it. It's comforting to know it takes only two fingers to reach in there and pull; it lays so perfectly in the palm of his hand. Her smile is relaxed, free of anger, worry. She is beautiful, so very beautifully Kara Thrace and every time he looks it's a war between how much he wants to keep looking and how much it hurts to do so. He had nearly removed it from his pocket and put it under his pillow tonight. What a fool. It was only because of Dee, or maybe that he might have wrinkled it unrecognizably, that he hadn't. Besides, it wasn't his, it was meant to go on the Memory Wall. But he couldn't give her up, not just yet. He lies there for hours picturing the times he has seen her with that smile and all the other smiles.

He's still not ready to say goodbye.

Night Four:

He had been on CAP today, coasted off mission coordinates and would have kept right on going if Racetrack hadn't come on line and asked him where the he was going. He'd been pissed at Racetrack all day. Not because she'd warned him, but because it had been her instead of Starbuck. Racetrack had been way too gods damn polite about it. Starbuck would have ribbed him for at least the next three days.

Her viper had been so tiny against the dark swirling cloud.

Come back, come back. Starbuck! Kara!" She was glorious. Horribly glorious and his own screaming woke him up.

He was only screaming in the dream; he was gasping now, enough to wake Dee.

"It's all right. Go back to sleep. Really."

He had no idea it was merely the first of gasping awake after the same dream.

Night Five:

Everything bugged him, especially how everyone gave him extra space, glanced out of the corners of their eyes, and stopped talking in the middle of sentences when he entered the room. And those little, sly smiles were driving him crazy - they couldn't say anything so they smiled. Gods, he wanted to hit someone. So he went to the gym and mashed and pushed and lifted until he was exhausted. He imagined her shaking her head and laughing at him there, too. If only she really would.

After his shower, he was still angry. Too angry to eat. Dee came in after a late workout, all sweaty and glistening. She looked incredible. The anger segued into need and they made love. He hadn't realized how much he needed the closeness, to feel elemental and truly alive. He was more desperate than usual, but Dee understood why. He still managed to please her first; he was ever the officer and the gentleman. But when he lost himself in those final moments, the release was too much, it released everything and he broke into sobs that would not stop.