lyssie | Fic: newBSG, Fractured Sun, part two.

"Kara."

The hand on her shoulder is gentle. She sucks in a breath and wakes, wincing. The smell of sex hits her, followed by the kink in her neck and the taste in her mouth that says she's going to lose dinner. Not that she remembers having dinner. She's still slumped in the pilots' briefing room. She wonders when the cockpit footage finally shut off.

"Kara."

It occurs to her as Helo drags her upright, arms gentle, that this could be a year ago. Just another night on Galactica, with Helo having to drag Starbuck back to her rack after another quick frak with a faceless marine. They're not faceless anymore. The thought makes her want to cry.

A year ago, she didn't know Samuel Anders.

"C'mon, Starbuck." He's moving them, competent as always. Helo got good at this during their two-year stint as the screw-up and the martyr of Galactica.

A giggle escapes her.

"Stop that, or the shower's going to be cold."

She stops as abruptly as she started, and finally opens her eyes to look at him. "Just like old times?"

"Yeah." He avoids her eyes, though, even as he shifts her and continues their progress down the corridor. "Just like old times," he repeats, tone bland.

The strangeness almost stops her, but he said the magic words about water and soap, and she can feel her skin trying to crawl off her body. Her stomach is still considering the option of climbing its way out, too.

Routine settles in when they reach the showers. Helo props her up, finds soap. Finally starts helping her strip--because if he didn't start, she'd forget and walk in fully-clothed. He learned that one the hard way, and she cursed for hours about getting her flight suit wet. So had the quartermaster, and Kara had worn slightly moldy leather for a week before the pilots all got sick of it and descended on the poor man en masse to claim Starbuck a new flight suit.

He leaves her to the rest of her clothes. Once started, she generally makes it all the way to bare skin. Although there was that time Boomer had to remind her about her socks.

Boomer. She doesn't flinch, thinking about her ex-friend.

A few minutes later, she's got soap in one hand, and a determination not to lose the little she has in her stomach as she makes her way into the showers.

It's not until she's leaning against the tiles, water washing the soap off, that she wonders what his problem is.

The thought of asking him and finding out someone else has lost their faith in her is a little too much.

A few minutes of heat and then the water slides to cold. Cursing, she spins the taps off and drags herself out of the shower. A moment to re-orient her pounding skull with the layout of the room and she heads for the front.

Once there, she tries to remember what comes next.

Helo walks back in, pile of laundry in his arms.

"Brought you a towel."

"Comfy." She yanks it from his hand and begins toweling, almost scraping at her skin.

He doesn't bother looking at her. He's practiced at not noticing naked Kara Thrace. It makes her a little sad that his eyes don't flicker anymore.

It's finally too much, and even hungover and dead tired, she's ready to kick something. "What?"

"Nothing."

"Don't give me that bullshit."

He looks at her, really looks at her, and something flickers in his eyes before he shifts. Away, as if he's afraid she'll hit him. "I saw you leaving his quarters, Kara."

No need to ask which 'he' is being referred to. Lee doesn't have his own room. She glares. "My business, Helo."

"Yeah. Your business."

And it hurts that he is condemning her. She grits her teeth and finishes dressing, unwilling to give him the satisfaction of knowing. He's just one more person unimpressed with her frakking up. Well, frak him. But it's Helo, and she doesn't stalk out and leave him standing there.

"Kara, what I don't get is why." He sounds confused, "Why him?"

"Because you're off-limits!" She explodes, unable to keep the words back. "I needed--" Wanting to hurt back, to strip some of his calm from him, she adds, "I talked to her the other day, you know. Your little Cylon girlfriend. She still thinks we'll forget she's not human."

Maybe the tone of her voice betrays her, but he doesn't rise to the bait, instead, he sighs. "Kara...."

"Frak you, Karl. Just--"

"Hey." His hands close on her shoulders and he shakes her a little. "This is me, Starbuck. Remember?"

"Yeah." She slumps, almost lets herself lean against him. He carefully wraps his arms around her, as if he knows this is a fleeting thing. That in five seconds she'll be Starbuck again and hugging Starbuck isn't allowed.

He pulls back first. "Now let's get you to bed."

"Yeah." Feeling numb again and ready to fall over, she lets him wrap an arm around her waist and lead her back to quarters. "I'm an ass."

"Yup."

She sighs, almost regrets it as her stomach twinges. Then exhaustion shoves the nausea out of the way. "You're an ass, too."

"Maybe. But I'm a nice ass who's going to put you to bed."

Kara decides sticking her tongue out at him is too much effort and settles for tipping her head to the side and thunking him with it. Her ears ring a little, and she realizes that wasn't too bright. But then, she never is.

"In you go."

Staring at her rack, Kara contemplates refusing, falling over, and sleeping on the floor.

But Helo is very well-versed in putting a drunk Starbuck into bed, and shortly, that's where she is. "Sorry 'bout the Cylon crack." she mumbles as the world closes in.

"No you're not."

He's right. But she's not awake enough to explain the levels and subtleties of her apology. Besides. Starbuck doesn't do subtle.

-f-

Fic: newBSG, Fractured Sun, part two.

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