Title: Is It Urgent? The Sequel Author: rita E-mail: mommacita1@juno.com Rating: PG for m/m kissing Pairings: None really Archive: Yes, please Series: Yes, I guess it is, now Website: No Disclaimer: I don't own the boys, I just like to play with them. And I certainly don't make any profit from it! Notes: Here's the comfort part - but first I had to ratchet up the hurt a tad. Warnings (if needed): H/C, sappy kid and pet (not daggit) warning. Summary: Apollo's eyes are forced open. *** It happened so gradually, no one noticed. Starbuck was rehydrated and deemed well enough to return to the BOQ. If he was subdued, and looking back his friends thought that he probably had been, they attributed it to the concussion, from which he was still recovering, and the fact that the head injury kept him from flying. Eventually the conservative Dr. Salik pronounced him recovered from his concussion and put him back on the active duty roster. Apollo called Starbuck into the duty office as soon as he'd been cleared to fly. He perched on the edge of his desk. "I need a favor, Bucko," he said. Starbuck just looked at him expectantly. "Would you mind pairing with Cree? Dietra's pregnant and Cree needs a dominant wingmate to function properly," Apollo explained. Starbuck shrugged and then asked quietly, "Anything else change while I was out?" Apollo thought for a micron, then filled him in on what had transpired during his absence. "Did you know that Sheba and Boomer have temporarily swapped squadrons?" Starbuck shook his head no. "I really want to get the Silver Spar warriors better integrated with us, and they were both willing." "I don't think so. You're sure you don't mind?" "Mind what?" Starbuck asked, expressionless. "You're the Captain. I'll get together with Cree." "Thanks, Starbuck," Apollo said. He could always count on his friend. *** "Temporarily" turned out to be a quartile. A very long quartile for Boomer, who returned to Blue Squadron with his rucksack slung over his shoulder as soon as he could stuff his clothes into it once Apollo had given him the news that his exile was over. As he entered the Ready Room he heard Jolly ask Cree, "So, what does Starbuck figure the odds are for this year's matches?" "Umm, he said he didn't know anything about it." Cree looked uncomfortable. He glanced through the Ready Room doors to the bunk room, where his wingmate's bent knee could just barely be seen in the far corner lower bunk. Greenbean followed his gaze, commenting, "Thought he would roust me from his bunk when he got out of Life Center. Guess he was still too groggy. But he's never said anything about it." Boomer chuckled. "Bucko's not *in* his bunk often enough for it to matter which bunk is his." The others exchanged glances, Cree looking back into the bunk room again. They remained silent though. "What?" Boomer said. "C'mon guys. You don't still hold it against me for trading squads with Sheba, do you?" "No, Boomer," Jolly assured him. "We never did. That was the Captain's doing, not yours. You were just convenient to vent at." "Well, that's good to know. I know I'm glad to be back, too. Talk about cold!" He shivered. "It was warmer on that Ice Planet we crashed on than in Silver Spar." "Well, we're glad you're back, too, Boomer," Jolly assured him. "When's the game start?" Boomer asked. "Are we waiting for Starbuck?" "If we wait for Starbuck, there won't be a game," Giles said bluntly. "Mostly there isn't a game anyway. It's not the same with him not here to fleece us," Greenbean put in guilelessly. "Oh." Boomer didn't know what to say. "Well, I'll just put my stuff back in my locker then. My locker *is* still mine, isn't it?" he asked. "Sure," Giles answered. "Nobody touched it." Boomer got up. "Only..." he hesitated and looked around the room for assistance. "Only?" Boomer prompted. "Be quiet about it," Jolly asked, his round face serious. "He doesn't sleep much and ... Cree?" Cree, the tallest, looked through the doorway. He could vaguely see a blanket-covered form curled in the far bunk. "Yeah, it looks like he's fallen asleep now. He's curled into the wall like he does." "Are we talking about Starbuck?" The others nodded. Boomer put down his rucksack. "Maybe you'd better tell me what's going on?" The pilots all looked to Jolly, who seemed to be their spokesman. "Well, it's more what's not going on. He doesn't play cards with us anymore. Hardly ever even comes into the Ready Room. Never goes to the OC - even when we ask." Greenbean picked up the story. "He doesn't crack jokes. On full patrols, he doesn't say anything, unless he spots something on his scanner." "Sheba come down hard on him? Or Apollo when Bucko picked on Sheba?" Boomer suggested. "Nah. Sheba was pretty nasty to him. I mean she was a bitch to all of us - not as good as her precious Silver Spar droids, I guess - but worst to him. But he just took it. Captain finally told her to can it, right over the comm line." Giles said the last admiringly. "Truth is," Cree said, "He's pretty quiet even with me. Not mean or anything - he answers questions if I ask and takes the lead - thank the Lords for that! But none of the flack he used to give me." "No chatter on your other line?" Boomer asked, amazed. Cree shook his head. "He doesn't talk at all unless somebody talks to him directly, Boomer," Jolly said. At first we thought he was still kind of out of it, from banging his head like he did, you know? But now ..." He shrugged and the others nodded in agreement. "Anyone talk to Apollo about this?" Boomer asked. Cree blushed. "Actually, I tried, Lieutenant," he said. "Tell him what you found when you went into the Duty Office," Giles prompted. "Lieutenant Sheba was sitting in the Captain's lap, kissing him all over his face." Cree turned even redder. "I mean, I turned around to leave, after I said I was sorry for disturbing them, but Captain Apollo pushed her out of his lap and asked me what I wanted." "What did you tell him?" "Umm, I asked if he had noticed anything ... different about Lieutenant Starbuck." "Tell Boomer what Sheba said," Giles said acidly. "She said, 'What's the matter? Do you want a new wingmate? I can't say that I blame you.' Then, when I told her I didn't, that Starbuck was just not himself, she snorted and said, 'Well, that's got to be an improvement, no matter what's changed, don't you think?'" "What did Apollo say?" Boomer asked. "He asked me if I wanted to report a problem with Starbuck's performance on duty." Cree looked around. "Well, of course that wasn't it at all, so I said, 'no'." "And?" Boomer prompted. "He dismissed me. Said his warriors' private lives were not his business. Then he said, 'You can go, Ensign.' Just like that." *** "Where's Uncle Starbuck?" Boxey demanded. We never see him anymore." "Uncle Starbuck's been sick, Boxey, you know that," Apollo replied, glancing at Sheba. "But he's feeling better now. Maybe ..." "Maybe you'll have him come over and corrupt your son?" Sheba asked sarcastically. "Sheba!" Apollo snapped, and gestured with his head at Boxey. "He's more fun than you are," Boxey retorted. "At least he likes me - not pretend, like you." "Boxey!" Apollo was caught between two glaring pairs of eyes. 'If we could harness that hatred against the Cylons,' he thought, 'we wouldn't have any problems defeating them.' Come to think of it, if he could take all the hatred directed against Sheba by Blue Squadron, and to be honest Red and Green, they could wipe out the Cylon home planet with one blast. He looked thoughtfully at Sheba. Could everyone except him and his father be wrong about her? Sheba realized she'd slipped. She forced a laugh. "Now, Boxey! You know I love you - almost as much as I love your father." She draped herself over Apollo's shoulders. Apollo shrugged her off. He seemed to be doing a lot of that lately: in his quarters, in the OC, in the officers' mess, even in the Duty Office. She seemed to need to show her possession of him in front of others. "Sheba, I think we'd better call it a night. I'll talk to you next cycle, okay?" "Excuse me? You're going to put me off for ..." "For my son. Yes." He physically pushed her towards the door. "Good night." He gave her a peck on the cheek as he triggered the door open and a quick hug that ended with her on the hall side of the doorway. *** "Grandpa," Boxey asked a secton later looking around the table. There was one empty place. "Where's Uncle Starbuck?" Sheba rolled her eyes. 'Uncle Starbuck'! Would no one correct the kid? She knew she couldn't; not without getting her head snapped off. Adama glanced at Apollo, who jerked his head at Sheba, then had the grace to redden and look down at his plate. Adama frowned. "I think maybe no one invited him, Boxey," he said softly. "But he *always* does holidays with us - he has no other family! Just like Uncle Colonel Tigh." 'Uncle Colonel Tigh' tried to smooth things over. He'd caught the varied expressions and looks that passed between the adult family members. "Maybe he was scheduled for patrol?" he suggested. Apollo didn't believe in lying to his son. "No, he's not on patrol. Silver Spar lost the toss. I ... think Grandpa thought I'd invite him, so he didn't. But I didn't either." Boxey threw down his napkin. "Well, I'm gonna go get him!" he declared, jumping up. "Wait!" Sheba said brightly. "You don't even know where to look. Why don't we check with the Duty Office. Every warrior has to list their whereabouts in case of an alert, remember?" "Great idea, Sheba!" Apollo said, jumping up before Sheba could offer to make the call. "I'll call right now." Sheba watched Apollo go to the comm unit. Of course, he actually *placed* a call to the Silver Spar officer on duty. Sheba had planned to fake the call from another room or, failing that, use Silver Spar code words to get the answer she wanted. She suppressed a sigh. "So he's in the BOQ? Great. Would you give him the message that he's invited ..." he looked at his father's expression and realized Starbuck would refuse a last-micron invitation, "No, tell him he's *expected* in the Commander's quarters immediately." He listened for a micron. "Yes, that's right. On the Commander's orders. Thanks." He turned from the comm unit. "He should be here in a few centons with that message," Apollo said, satisfied. 'And won't you be surprised at what he's like these cycles,' Boomer, seated beside Athena, thought. 'When did you last say more than two words over a comm line to him?' He had returned to find he was assigned as Apollo's wingmate, much to his surprise. Apollo had explained that he and Sheba felt that Starbuck and Cree fit together so well, it made no sense to separate them. When he had tried to express his concern about Starbuck to Apollo, the Captain had brushed him off, telling him the whole squadron was turning into a bunch of gossipy old maids. *** Starbuck entered at Adama's "Come!", saying, "You sent for me, sir ... s?" pluralizing the last word as he took in the array of officers. He wondered what he had done this time. He'd tried to do his job and otherwise be invisible. "Sit by me, Uncle Starbuck!" Boxey called, sliding over so that the empty place was between himself and his father. Adama chuckled. "Please do have a seat, Starbuck. I apologize for the curt summons, but we all seemed to assume someone else would have invited you." "Oh. Thank you, sir. I ..." Starbuck could think of nothing more to say. There was no way to get out of this. He moved to the empty chair that Apollo pulled out for him. "Thank you," he repeated. Except for answering Boxey's questions, those were the only words he spoke during the entire ritual and meal. Starbuck felt everyone's eyes on him. Boomer's understanding ones. He knew Blue Squadron would have filled Boomer in on his changed attitude. Athena, Tigh, and Adama had concern in their eyes. Well, maybe he had lost a little weight, not enough to disqualify himself from duty, he made sure of that. And maybe he was a little pale from lack of sleep, although he did his best to get a full sleep-cycle's worth. Sheba's look would have incinerated him on the spot if she could have managed it. Apollo's look was hardest to decipher. He was concerned, yes, but he also seemed embarrassed or upset. Not angry though, which relieved Starbuck. Apollo noted that when the food first made the rounds of the table, Starbuck took the bare minimum he could and then served Boxey. And he looked like he had lost weight since he left Life Center. Apollo wondered how he could have been unaware of the changes in Starbuck's appearance. When the platters came around again, Apollo took advantage of the fact that Starbuck was turned towards Boxey, answering a question, to pile his plate high with "seconds". When Starbuck turned back, he raised an eyebrow and glanced at Apollo, but said nothing. "Eat," Apollo urged, smiling. "Even I can see you're too thin." He frowned when Starbuck made no reply, just obediently picked up his fork and began to eat. But he was almost immediately distracted by Sheba. "Apollo!" Sheba said loudly to get his attention away from Starbuck. "You'd think *he* was your date instead of me!" When he turned to her, she pouted prettily. She knew it was pretty, she'd practiced in the mirror. "Could you pour me some more wine, darling?" Boomer noticed the wine bottle directly in front of Athena and couldn't resist asking, "Do you have an arm injury, Sheba?" he asked solicitously. Sheba spared one of her lances of hatred for him. Athena elbowed him and frowned, shaking her head. He subsided. But Tigh took up the thread. "Are you injured, Lieutenant?" he asked, all seriousness. "No, sir," she replied. "And wasn't I told that Silver Spar is on duty this cycle?" "Yes, sir." "Well, Lieutenant, I hardly think you should be drinking when your squadron is on first call if there's an alert." To Sheba's chagrin, both Adama and Apollo agreed with Tigh. "The Colonel's right, my dear," Adama said. "Do we have anything without spirits, Athena?" he asked. "I'll go look," Athena offered, getting up. "I'm surprised at Cain's daughter, not knowing the regs," Boomer commented dryly. "Boomer, why don't you help me?" Athena said, dragging him out of his chair by main force. *** As the sectons passed, Starbuck's silence grew deeper. Even on duty, he didn't speak unless spoken to. Finally, when he had to be prompted on what he saw on his scanners, Apollo called him into the Duty Office. "Care to tell me what's going on?" he asked impatiently. Starbuck shook his head. "Are you ill?" Starbuck started to shake his head again, then looked up, puzzled, and shrugged. Maybe he was ill. It had started as a conscious retreat. Become invisible, don't let anyone near, and his heart would be safe. But now he seemed less and less able to communicate even when he wanted to. "I'd appreciate a verbal response, Lieutenant!" Apollo snapped. Starbuck tried to answer, a simply "I'm fine, Captain," but to his horror discovered he couldn't force a word out. A whimper escaped his lips and he met Apollo's angry green eyes with terror-filled blue ones. Apollo's demeanor changed instantly. "Starbuck! You're not all right, are you? This isn't a game, a trick, is it?" Starbuck shook his head, his eyes wide. His ability to communicate was completely gone and it terrified him. "Frak Sheba for convincing me it was.!" Apollo exploded. He took the blond's arm. "I'm taking you to Life Center." *** During the centars he sat in Life Center's waiting area, Apollo had a lot of time to think. Sheba had come in, not to inquire about Starbuck but to complain that he cared more about the blond Lieutenant than about her. When her practiced pout and sulk didn't work, she left in a huff. Boomer had come in and quietly read him the riot act. Something he deserved and said as much. "How did I let this happen, Boom-boom?" Boomer was nothing if not honest. "You listened to Cain's daughter instead of your friends. You let your best friend wither away and didn't even notice." Boomer took a chance. "Apollo, listen to me, please. You're thinking with your hormones, but Sheba's not. She wants position and power, and she'll get it any way she can. But she's offering sex, not love." He stopped short then. He couldn't tell Apollo what the Captain had been trained to not see: that his true love was another man. "Let me know what Salik says, okay?" he asked, rising. He patted Apollo's shoulder as he left saying, "Think about what I said, Captain." *** A secton later Starbuck listened to his prognosis. There was nothing wrong with him and everything wrong with him. Salik could find no physical cause for his silence and his increasing inability to initiate action. There was no blood clot, no tumor, no brain dysfunction to account for his lack of self-motivation. Since he could no longer communicate, Salik was at a loss for psychological treatment. At the end of Salik's diagnosis, Starbuck had signaled for a stylus and pad. On it he had written. "I'm not in danger or dangerous. I'm not in pain. I'm not of value to the Fleet. I'm not important enough to waste time and cubits on. Warehouse me and get on with your lives." With a steady hand and level gaze he handed the pad to the Commander. Apollo read the note over his father's shoulder and then tore it from his hands and threw it across the room. "Absolutely not! You are the most valuable person in the Fleet to me - next to Boxey. I will not allow you to be shoved into a corner and forgotten. You're coming home with me until you recover, however long that takes." There. He'd said it out loud and in front of his father. Sheba be damned, he loved Starbuck. It wasn't what his father wanted. It wasn't what society wanted. It certainly wasn't what Sheba wanted. And he'd tried to deny it was what he wanted. Adama raised his eyebrows at his son's uncharacteristic outburst. It was about time Apollo realized the truth, but his revelation deserved some response, some expression of surprise. It wouldn't do to let him know everyone but Sheba - well, maybe everyone including Sheba who just didn't care - had realized this before he had. "Settle down, son," he said mildly. "If you feel that strongly about caring for Starbuck until he can care for himself, you can. Assuming Starbuck agrees?" Starbuck found he couldn't shake his head no, the way he wanted to. Of course the part of him he was trying to bury wanted him to should "Yes!" at the top of his lungs. He stared at the Commander, unable to move or speak, hoping his eyes would tell the story. *** A sectare later Starbuck lay in Apollo's darkened spare bedroom, really a converted storage area, waiting for Apollo to tell him to get up. He had regressed further, now unable to start the simplest task without being told to do so. The comm unit chimed and he heard Apollo's voice speaking into it, sharp and annoyed. "I can't, Sheba. I have to get Starbuck up and set for the day." There was a pause. "No, I can't ask 'someone else' to do it." Another pause. "All right, you're right. I *won't* ask someone else. I want to do it." Listening silence again. "No, I won't lie to you. Starbuck is more important to me than you are - than you ever could be." A deep sigh. "Why don't we both stop pretending. I don't love you and never will. Lords know I tried, but I can't. And I won't have a sham marriage just so you can be the Commander's daughter-in-law." Loud yelling came through the comm unit. Apollo laughed. "You know what, Sheba? I just had a great idea. Dad's a widower, too. Why don't you see if he'll go for you?" Starbuck heard the comm unit click off loudly, followed by Apollo's relieved chuckle. He sat up and reached for his robe. He was just shrugging into it when Apollo entered. "Hey! You got yourself up. That's great. I was just coming to wake you. Feel up to getting dressed by yourself?" Starbuck knew Apollo didn't expect a response, but he tried anyway and to their mutual surprise managed a short nod. "Okay, then. I'll have breakfast waiting when you're done in the turbowash." *** Some cycles were better than others. Some cycles he woke and got out of bed on his own, letting Apollo know he was up by tapping on the doorframe of whatever room the Captain was in. Other cycles were like this one, when he woke and couldn't force himself to move - what was the purpose? There wasn't one. He had no purpose, served no purpose for anyone. So he lay there until Apollo gave him purpose again. The door was ajar. Apollo left the door open so he could hear Starbuck's unrest. He understood that he had nightmares, the only times he made a sound, and even then the sounds were quiet whimpers and moans. He had vague memories from the nightmares. Mostly they involved Apollo being out on patrol with someone else guarding his wing and getting killed - because only Starbuck could keep him safe. The nightmares all ended the same way - Apollo's dying words addressed to Starbuck: "Why weren't you there?" The door edged open further, a sliver of light crossing the floor, but no one entered. There was rustling in the corner of the room a few microns later. Then Boxey came bursting in, flooding the room with light from the hallway. "No, Comet, bad felix! You're not supposed to be in here!" Boxey turned to find blue eyes watching him. "I'm sorry, Uncle Starbuck. I didn't mean to wake you. Comet snuck in and we're not allowed - only Dad." "You didn't wake me," Starbuck reassured the boy, speaking without thinking about it. They both realized he had spoken and stared at each other for a micron, Starbuck recovering first. "I was already awake, waiting for your dad to come in and start me moving." He reflected that was something Muffit might have said, had he been able to speak. "You'd better leave if you're not allowed in though." He felt the familiar hollowness inside and ruthlessly suppressed it. "I think it's just nobody's supposed to disturb you," Boxey said. "Am I disturbing you?" he asked politely. "No," Starbuck whispered, his voice cracking. "This is Comet," Boxey said, approaching the bed with the squirming felix in his arms. "They've started breeding animals for pets again and Aunt Athena got me one. Do you like felixes?" A shadow moved into the light, blocking it. "He certainly does," Apollo said. "He used to bring every stray he found up to our rooms at the Academy and nurse them back to health, then find them homes." He grinned at Starbuck. "You seem to have found your voice," he remarked. "I woke up 'cured', I think," Starbuck replied. "I'm so glad," Apollo said, entering the room. "Yeah," Starbuck said shortly. He cleared his throat. "I'll ... get dressed and pack and get out of your way." "Why" Boxey asked. "Because your dad's the Galactica's Strike Captain, not a nursemaid. I can take care of myself now that I can speak, so he can get back to his own life." 'What if he doesn't want to get back to his own life?' Apollo thought. Aloud he said, "Where will you go?" "Oh. I didn't think about that. I don't have a place anymore, do I?" "You have a place here." "Captain ... Apollo. You've done more than I deserved already. I heard and understood everything that was going on around me. You've been ... much more than a friend. Maybe your dad could find something for me to do. I could move into the civilian support staff barracks." "Starbuck, don't you want to stay?" At first Apollo thought he had spoken aloud, but it was Boxey, voicing his thoughts. "I do," Starbuck said quickly, not wanting to hurt the boy. And it was the truth. "But it wouldn't be right. Not now that I can fend for myself. Grown men don't live together for no reason." "You could pretend to stay sick. I won't tell," Boxey promised. "No." Both men said together. Starbuck continued. "That wouldn't be right. I need to see if I can get my flight status back. Probably have to have Dr. Salik poke and prod me and look around inside my head before I can." Boxey made a face and both men laughed. "You're probably right, Starbuck. You'll need medical clearance and then have to requalify in the sims again - it's been a quartile since you last flew." Starbuck nodded. Apollo had a sudden inspiration. "But why take a temporary job and move into temporary quarters until then? A job will just slow down your requalification and you'd have to move twice once you are cleared again. Why not just stay here until then?" "Yeah!" Boxey seconded enthusiastically. "I ... " Starbuck didn't know what to say, but somehow one word came out of his mouth. "Sheba?" Apollo chuckled. "Actually, that's a good reason for you to stay - it keeps Sheba away." Boxey giggled and Apollo turned to him. "Aren't you supposed to be cleaning Comet's litter box?" he asked. "See ya later, Uncle Starbuck! Please stay," Boxey called over his shoulder as he took the hint, a rare occurrence, and left the room. "Seriously, Bucko, you were right," Apollo said once he was sure the boy was out of earshot. "You and everyone else who had the nerve to try to tell me. Sheba was a bad mistake." "Ah." "I abandoned you for her and that was a worse mistake." "Oh." "Are you sure you're cured? You seem to be down to monosyllables again." "No, I'm fine. I ... just don't know what to say." "Say you'll stay. Say you want me." Apollo watched Starbuck's mouth drop open. 'Oh, Lords. I said that out loud.' "Want you? More than life itself," Starbuck replied after giving Apollo the chance to take back his words. "Anyway you'll have me: friend, wingmate, whatever." "Starbuck? Whatever? Including ..." "I love you, Apollo. It tore me apart every time you turned to someone else. And when you wanted Sheba instead of me - and I saw she didn't love you - I couldn't ...I tried to just keep my distance from everyone, like I used to, you know? But I guess part of me didn't want to go on at all." "I won't ever put you aside again. You're staying here, and not just until you requalify. I want you to stay here permanently." "Apollo ..." Starbuck began one more protest. "And not in this room either," Apollo said. "I may be jumping the gun, but on the other hand we've been denying this for decayahrens, at least I have. Starbuck, I want you to be my mate, not just my wingmate, not just my best friend, and not just a fuck-buddy when I don't have anyone else." He paused and took a deep breath. "Will you?" Starbuck looked at the serious green eyes for long microns. They held concern, compassion, guilt - always guilt with Apollo - and something else. Passion smoldered, but beyond that was something that said, "I mean it. I mean forever." He smiled, feeling contentment settle in him. "Apollo, you're offering me what I've wanted since I first met you. If you're sure it's what you want, how can I say no?" Starbuck tilted his head up and Apollo leaned down until their lips met. Slowly Apollo eased Starbuck back onto the bed. Neither one noticed the high-pitched whisper, "Not now, Comet, they're doing mushy stuff," or heard the door snick shut.