The Scarred Man by Rita G Mac Auslan Disclaimer: I don't own the boys, I just like to play with them. And I always bring them back safe and sound - well almost always. I don't usually do prologues, especially for such a short story, but this one seems to demand it. WARNING: I rated this NC-17 not for the mild, sex scene at the end, but for the "offstage" violence and implied non-consensual sex that is alluded to. This story came about, I think, because of two stories that suggested permanent scarring to one of our heroes. In each of those great stories, there was either no scarring or no psychological damage due to the scarring. But, you know me, BSG Torture Queen, I have to have my psychological damage even when the torture is in the past. Part 1 follows, the sad part I've been telling all of you about. There is a part 2, but I'm having a problem I hope you can help me with. The protagonist here is one of our heroes, but which one? You may remember I asked the same thing with Silence and Sound. Well, in that case, once I started writing Silent Rage and realized that's where Silence and Sound belonged, it was obvious that the silent one was SB and the person speaking, therefore, had to be Appy. I find it a lot less clear here. I know I'm known for my SB torture, but don't make the assumption that's who the protagonist is. I really don't know! So help me out if you will. Who is the scarred man? Thanks, rita The scarred man turned away from the door as a crowd of raucous pilots entered the canteen. Since the Galactica's OC had been damaged, the pilots had the choice of the mess hall or eating at one of the various holes-in-the-wall on the lower levels. This canteen seemed to be a favorite. Jason, the other worker on duty, shuffled up noisily behind him, making sure he heard the approach. "Hey, man, you wanna take off, I can handle this lot," Jason offered. The scarred man appreciated the offer and knew it had been made out of compassion, but he found he really didn't mind the boisterous pilots. They weren't mean and didn't trash the place. And he was quite sure he was unrecognizable. The long, thick hair pulled back into a queue with a thong exposed the healed slashes that covered one side of his face. That was disguising enough in itself. His raspy voice, which could barely be heard on the other side of the counter, didn't give anything away of who he had once been either. So he replied, "Nah, that's okay. I don't mind 'em." "Suit yourself, man," Jason replied. "I'll be in the stockroom if you need me." The scarred man waved a hand in thanks and went back to chopping primaries. "Hey equine-tail! You got any cooked ova sandwiches?" Without turning his head, the cook nodded. He neatly slid the chopped primaries into a holding bin and half-turned to the counter. "Cooked and chopped or fried?" he asked, raising his voice as much as he could. The louder he spoke, the more his throat hurt and the raspier his voice sounded. "Choices?" The pilot turned. "Hey guys! We got choices here! What a deal!" The cook waited patiently. "Oh, uh, cooked and chopped I guess." "Bread? We've got root bread, pan-bread, mixed grain, and ova." "Jeez. You're better than the OC! What's root bread?" "It's got cooked root primaries in it. It's heavier than regular bread." "Sure, why not. Lemme try it." "You got it. You want sweet spread or spicy?" "Sweet." The cook quickly made up the sandwich and passed it over the counter. "Here you go." He tried to keep the undamaged side of his face away from the pilot, even though he knew the reaction the ridged scars would get, especially close up. "Hey thank - uh..." The pilot continued in a subdued tone, not quite looking at the scarred man. "Thanks, man. Looks great." "You're welcome. Three cubits, please." Now it was safe to turn around fully, the pilot's eyes would be avoiding his face. There was a line behind the first pilot. Some of them were return customers; the canteen's owner insisted on cooking to order and kept a wide variety of breads and fillings. The cook called for his shift-mate, who came out of the stockroom at a run. "Place gets busier every cycle," Jason said as he passed behind the scarred man, tying on his apron. He was about to offer to take the orders and let the disfigured man turn away to prepare them, but the line split into two as soon as he approached the counter. Word was spreading, the scarred man realized, and sooner or later someone would make a connection. 'Can't hide forever,' he told himself. 'You knew you couldn't - not and stay on the Galactica.' He was kept busy with the hungry pilots having just come off duty and that gave him less time to think. A good thing, in his opinion, although he noticed some of those who were there for the second or third time looking at him quizzically, as if their memories were tickling them. Later, in the small room behind the canteen, which he had traded with the canteen owner in return for doing watchman duties, he pulled out a holo of three pilots, arm-in-arm: a stocky dark-skinned pilot was flanked on one side by a blond and on the other by a dark-haired man, both taller than he. "Don't come here," he whispered at the picture. "Go to the Rising Star. Eat there until the OC reopens. Let me stay dead to you." A tear fell on the holo and he wiped it off, then kissed the holo and put it carefully away. *** "You'd think there wasn't another eatery on the whole frakking ship!" Orion, the canteen owner grumbled, taking inventory after the mid-cycle rush. "Hey, can you cover the next couple of centars? We've used up our secton's supply order. I've got to see if I can get more of just about everything?" "Sure. No problem," the scarred man said. "You need to get to Life Center for your treatment first?" Orion asked. "I can make a few calls from here and have them hold the stuff for me." The scarred man took a mental inventory of his body. "No," he said finally. "I'm okay; I can skip it this cycle." "Well, if you're sure..." the other man said doubtfully. He kept his distance, but couldn't help feeling a fatherly affection for the damaged young man. He knew the man's injuries kept his body from functioning properly and he needed medical assistance to get it to do what others took for granted. "I'm sure. I can go later if I need to - Life Center *is* open 'round the clock," he pointed out, favoring his boss with a rare smile. The older man was always startled by the smile, which somehow wasn't affected by the scarring, but spread across his whole face not stopping until it lit up those beautiful eyes. *** "Hey, Scarface, get a move on! I been waiting here five centons." The scarred man ignored the name-calling. He recognized the pilot - a member of Silver Spar squadron. Many of that squad's pilots had chips on their shoulders. "I'll be right with you," he replied out as mildly as his ruined voice allowed. He'd been working alone since Orion had gone to get more supplies centars ago. The late-shift pilots were coming in now, hoping to eat before going out on patrol. He shifted, mildly uncomfortable after the long hours. He told himself he just needed to lie down for a few centons and he'd be fine, purposely ignoring the pain in his gut that told him he needed to get to Life Center. Jason skidded in behind him. "Cool your jets, man. You may be a hotshot out in space, but you're just another mouth in here," he told the pilot, who was muttering imprecations in a rising voice. Without turning, the scarred man handed Jason the pilot's meal and started on the next order. "Here," Jason said gracelessly. "That'll be six cubits." "Scarface only ever charges me three," the pilot objected. "It's three extra so I don't put my fist in your mouth," Jason explained in a pleasant tone. Behind him the scarred man chuckled. There was laughter from the pilots waiting in line. The Silver Spar pilot reddened and grabbed Jason by the collar, pulling him halfway across the counter. "Why you worthless piece of trash! Every cycle I risk my ass for the likes of you and him! You ought to be feeding us for free!" The words were barely out of his mouth when Jason head-butted him, using his skull instead of the relatively softer fist as he had threatened. The force carried both men over the counter and onto the floor. 'Frak!' the scarred man thought. 'Just what we need in here.' But even as he was thinking it, he was turning and vaulting over the counter to pull Jason off the pilot. His mind registered momentary surprise that no one had joined the pilot in his pummeling of the young cook. Then he was using his surprisingly muscular arms and some moves most civilians didn't know existed, let alone were capable of employing, to pull the cook upright and away from the pilot. As he did so a flurry of movement told him someone was similarly restraining the pilot. Back against the counter, the scarred man looked over Jason's shoulder and realized why the altercation hadn't escalated into a brawl. Blue and Red squadron pilots were keeping Silver Spar pilots back bodily. He pushed Jason behind him, pinning him against the counter with his back. Only then did he look over at the Silver Spar pilot and his captor. His eyes met those of Greenbean and he froze. Greenbean was a regular in the canteen. He wasn't the brightest pilot on the Galactica, but he was among the most caring of men. Now recognition dawned in his eyes and he would have spoken, but the scarred man quickly shook his head, a plea for silence in his eyes. Greenbean nodded once and tightened his grip on the pilot's arms. "I'll take this trash to the duty office. I'm sure the Commander will want to know one of his warriors started a fight with the cook who was serving him his meal." "Come back when you're done. Your meal's on the house," the scarred man rasped. "C'mon, Jason, let's get these men their meals." He turned away and walked around the counter, pulling the other cook with him. Greenbean did return and got a double-sized serving at no charge. The scarred man brought it over to his table, hesitated, and then turned to go back into the kitchen. "Hey!" Greenbean called softly. "I won't say anything to anybody. But ... why?" The scarred man turned to face him. "I'm not anything anyone would want anymore," he said softly. He gestured at his face, "We all needed to get on with our lives, but it wouldn't have happened if I stayed. Too many people would have tried too hard - me included - to make believe nothing had changed." Greenbean chewed slowly as he thought about what the man in front of him had said. "Okay," he said finally. "But why stay on the Galactica?" A sad smile graced the scarred face. "Because I couldn't let go totally either. I've gotta go clean up the kitchen. It's been a long day. Thanks for the assist - and the silence." *** The cramps woke him from a deep, exhausted sleep. Disoriented at first, he barely recognized the cause of his pain. By the time his brain clicked into gear he barely made it to the turbo flush. Knowing he was alone, he made no attempt to hold back the groans and then cries of pain as his system sluggishly went back into service for the first time in over a yahren. 'Well, moron,' he told himself, 'this is why Dr. Salik's been flushing you out every cycle. He warned you it wouldn't be pleasant to do it on your own.' Then he was overtaken by a combination of cramping and tearing pain as scarred muscles were forced into motion. He doubled over, nearly passing out. Eventually, the pain subsided. The cramps were gone. His system had successfully rid itself of waste and left behind an aching that was an echo of the distant past. Sweat-soaked and shaking, he rose and cleaned himself off as best he could. There was blood, but it seemed to be tapering off. When he felt steady enough to move, he went to the turbowash and let the water beat on his body, hot and strong. The bleeding had stopped and by the time the water had rinsed away the sweat, he was able to towel himself off without fear of falling over. He dressed in clean sleepwear and virtually fell back into bed, almost instantly asleep, despite the pulsing ache in his rear. *** He later blamed his lapse the following cycle on sluggishness from lack of sleep and the painkiller Dr. Salik had injected. He heard Jolly's voice, heard the soft, velvet voice that answered, and didn't register that one of the few men who would recognize him had he no face left at all had just entered the canteen. "I'm telling you, Lieutenant, this is the best place in the whole fleet for food. I'm gonna eat here even when the OC reopens." "Jolly, you'll eat here *and* in the OC after it opens. You never get enough to eat!" the velvet voice laughed. "Come on, try it. They have this filled bread, you can get it filled with primaries, of shredded spiced meat or..." "Okay, okay. I'm here, you can stop the ad campaign." The scarred man half-turned, so that only the scarred side of his face was turned towards his customers. "What will it be, officers?" he rasped. "What kind of fillings do you have for that hot bread thing this cycle? Jolly asked. Before the scarred man could answer, the dark-skinned lieutenant's eyes widened and he cried, "By all the Lords of Kobol!" vaulted the counter, and enveloped the frozen figure in a full-body hug. The scarred man's arms came around the lieutenant and he burrowed his face into the shorter man's shoulder with a single, barely breathed word: "Master." "Boomer! What are you doing?" Jolly cried at the same time Orion and Jason ran out of the storeroom, shouting, "Let go of him!" and "Leave him alone!" The scarred man raised his head; the tears making his bright-colored eyes seem even more jewellike. But he was smiling. "It's all right, he's a ... very close friend," he assured his employer and shift-mate. Jolly was staring as though he had never seen the cook before. He opened his mouth, but before he could speak, Greenbean put an arm around his shoulder. "Why don't we sit down, Jolly?" he said, leading the stout man to his table and pushing his own plate in front of the other. "Perhaps you'd like to take a break and visit with your friend," Orion suggested. The scarred man nodded and gestured towards the door to his room. Boomer entered and sat on the bed, the only place available. The scarred man locked the door and sank gracefully to his knees in front of the Lieutenant. Smiling he reached to undo the pilot's pants. Boomer stilled his hands. "You don't have to. Surely that's not what your boss?" The scarred man nodded. "What your boss meant." "No," The scarred man whispered. "But it is what I meant." He ran his hand over the straining cloth at Boomer's groin. "And what you want." "But can you?" "Oh, yes. I'm not pretty to look at any more, but I can still perform." He said it so matter-of-factly that Boomer was stunned into silence, and allowed the man at his feet to pull his erection out and apply his talented hands and mouth to it. "I've missed you so," Boomer murmured when he recovered enough to speak. "We both have. And I don't mean for this," he hurried to add. The scarred man, having laved him clean, laughed as he redressed the dark man. "I've missed you both, too," he said, ignoring the clarification. "But I've been able to know how you are. Still the heroes." "Why did you disappear?" Boomer asked. The scarred man shrugged and moved to lean against the far wall. "I wasn't beautiful anymore. And I knew you'd feel an obligation." "You think we only loved you because you were beautiful?" Boomer asked in disbelief. The scarred man nodded. "That's not so! After all the yahrens we spent together, didn't you know that we loved *you*?" "Of course you did. Everyone did. How could you not? I was beautiful and talented. I knew how to pleasure and be pleasured." He paused. "I can't give you or the fleet what you loved me for," he said simply. "And you have each other, don't you?" Boomer nodded reluctantly. "I would just have been in the way, a constant, ugly reminder of what once was." "I still love you! He still cries for you every night. He's done everything but threaten Salik's life - and he's considered that - to find out where you'd gone." Boomer's tone changed to one of command. "Come here. I'll prove you're wrong!" The scarred man complied and stood in front of Boomer. "Strip." The scarred man executed a graceful striptease missing only music to be called a dance. As the clothing fell away, more scars were revealed. They followed the same pattern as the ridged gouges on his face and went down the left side of his body from the scarred cheek to his thigh. These scars were light, slashes that had healed and left a delicate pattern on the body. The scarred man reached for his flaccid penis, then stopped at the negative gesture from his former Master. "Can you?" Boomer asked, suddenly uncertain. The scarred man nodded. "With a little effort. Stimulus helps," he suggested, thinking to himself, 'And will prove my point.' "You left without permission," Boomer said, using the command voice again. "You need to be disciplined. He watched the shiver of anticipation that coursed through the slender body in front of him and felt his own cock twitch in response. He patted his thighs. "Over my lap. Now." Hiding a sad smile, sure he was right, the scarred man obeyed, revealing a matching set of gouges to those on his left facial cheek, mutilating his nether one. "Dear Lords!" Boomer breathed. He raised his hand to complete his intended action anyway, only to find he couldn't. Finally he admitted defeat. "I can't," he said brokenly. "I'm sorry, I just can't touch you." The scarred man slid from his Master's lap. He was careful now to show only the unmarked side of his face as he reached a hand up and gently wiped the tears that fell from the chocolate brown eyes. When Boomer had calmed, the scarred man asked gently, "What do you wish, Master?" But Boomer no longer had the heart to play the game. He shook his head and pushed the scarred man away. When he saw that his former slave merely sat on the floor waiting, he forced himself to say, "All right, make yourself hard, then pull your underpants on and jerk yourself off in to them. Then get dressed and go back to work." With an effort, he crossed his arms over his chest and tried to look like a Master watching a slave discipline himself. He forced himself not to react when the scarred man's climax was obviously as much pain as pleasure. He forced himself to watch until the other man was fully redressed. Then he rose and walked to the door. "Wait," the scarred man called as Boomer began to unlock the door. Boomer turned back, an eyebrow raised in query. "Would you do me one favor?" "Anything." "Make sure he doesn't find out I'm here. He mustn't come here. You mustn't come back." The jewel-bright eyes met the chocolate brown ones evenly. "All right," Boomer agreed, feeling he'd failed both of his slaves at once. "But someday..." "No. I'm gone. Vanished. Dead. Whatever you need to think to forget me." The scarred man turned away. "Because really the one you loved is dead. I'm not him." A sad chuckle. "You just proved that to both of us. Now go." Boomer unlocked the door, walked through it pulling it closed behind him, and kept walking, never looking back - out of the canteen, through the halls, not stopping until he reached his quarters and only stopping long enough then to key in the privacy lock. Then he threw himself on the bed that was big enough for three and cried until exhaustion overtook him and he slept, dreaming of two pairs of jewel-colored eyes, one pair sapphire, one blue, laughing into his warm brown ones as they loved one another in every way possible. The scarred man heard the door latch click. He reached into the drawer that held the only possession he cared about. He sank onto the bed cradling the holo to his chest. "There isn't much of me left, but all of what's left, and all that's lost, will love you both forever." He, too, cried himself to sleep. But his dreams were of the man and woman who took from him the only thing that made him lovable - his beauty and his body. He remembered the bladed glove caressing him, gouging him. The acid poured into the gouges in his cheeks, down his throat, into his puckered hole, ensuring that even those who wanted to love him could never love him again. *** "Thank you for agreeing to help. I just can't put up with this anymore. There've been complaints about the noise during sleep cycle and he's so underslept his work is suffering." "Not a problem. I'm glad you called me. I never should have left him alone for so long." The tall warrior with the jewel-colored eyes tried to sound casual, but both men knew it was far more important than he made it sound. "If I knew the pass code, I would have gone in myself, but..." The warrior chuckled. "I think I can guess the code." *** "Where is he now?" the warrior continued. The other man chuckled. "I sent him out for fresh primaries from the agric-market shuttle." "Well, let's see if I can just let myself in..." the warrior said, turning to the keypad. The latch clicked open on his first attempt. "Ah, Apollo, you're just so predictable," he murmured. "I'll take it from here. And thank you again. Thank you for caring about him - he needs more people to do that." The older man looked uncomfortable. "Well, if Boomer weren't on long-range patrol, I'm sure this wouldn't be an issue, but since he is..." "Commander," Starbuck hesitantly put his hand on Adama's arm. "It's no imposition. I shouldn't have left; my foolish vanity hurt everyone. Thank you for making me realize that." When Apollo walked in half a centare later, he was in a foul mood. "Now they're finding make-work for me to do when I'm off-duty - even my own father!" he grumbled to himself as he tossed the primaries into the cooler. "We've plenty of primaries already! I knew Boomer wouldn't comm back to the bridge with a message like that! Gods! How stupid do they think I am?" He walked into the bedroom, so self-absorbed in his rant that he didn't even notice Starbuck lounging on his bed. "Stupid enough that you fell for the trick and went out to the shuttle," the blond replied, grinning at the shock on his lover's face. "Starbuck! You're back." Apollo launched himself at the blue-eyed man laughing up at him. He covered his lover's face with kisses, and then leaned back to brush the faint slash marks on the left side of his face. "I imagined ... something much worse. You look ... distinguished, not disfigured. Not what they told me at all." Starbuck pulled his face out of Apollo's grasp and turned away. "Don't say that. Don't lie. I came back and, if you and Boomer still want me, I'll stay, 'Pol. But don't lie to me about my looks." "I'm not lying!" Apollo insisted. "You're still beautiful. And I'd love you no matter what you looked like. I'd ... Oh Lords!" Apollo gasped in horror. Starbuck turned back to him and now he could see the real damage, the discolored ridges that replaced his lover's left cheek." "This was a mistake. My mistake. Your father had the best of intentions, but I can't be your beautiful lover and Boomer's pretty sex slave anymore. You'd do better to find someone else to play that role." Starbuck rolled away and off the bed. He paused momentarily at the door. "I love you Apollo. I always will. But you need to move on. Harden yourself, like Boomer and I have." He walked through the door and Apollo barely heard the choked whisper, "Well, like Boomer has, anyway." "No!" Apollo screamed. "No, don't leave! I do love you. I don't just love your pretty face. Starbuck, come back! Come back!" He rolled onto the space just vacated by his lover, breathed deeply into the pillow, where Starbuck's scent still lingered, and sobbed. *** Boomer, asleep on the bed where he had flung himself after leaving Starbuck, roused at the all-too-familiar cries. Disoriented for a moment, he realized he had been sprawled so soundly asleep across the bed that Apollo had not tried to wake or move him, but instead had gone to sleep on the couch in the living area. Boomer padded out there and knelt at the tall warrior's head, stroking the dark hair. "I know Apollo, I know. I miss him, too." Bleary green eyes opened, filled with tears. "Where is he, Boomer? How could he just disappear? *Why* did he just disappear? Does he think that little of himself? Or of us?" Boomer looked down guiltily, wishing he had not made that promise to Starbuck. Quietly he answered the part of Apollo's questions that he could. "Yes he does think that little of himself - and of us." *** "Well, let's see if I can just let myself in..." the warrior said, turning to the keypad. The latch clicked open on his first attempt. "Ah, Bucko, you're just so predictable," he murmured. "I'll take it from here. And thank you again. Thank you for caring about him - he needs more people to do that." The older man looked uncomfortable. He had asked the computer for Lieutenant Boomer's quarters, since he had surmised he and Starbuck had once been involved. But somehow he had wound up talking to Captain Apollo; maybe the computer's information was out of date. The Captain had been more than understanding, coming immediately to the canteen, despite its being the late part of third shift. Orion felt the need to apologize for the sudden plea for assistance. "Well, if he'd let me, I'd be more of a friend, but since he is the way he is..." "Orion," Apollo put his hand on the canteen owner's shoulder. "It's not your fault. I shouldn't have let them keep me away; my childish blind obedience to authority hurt everyone. Thank you for making me realize that." Starbuck's cries could be heard through the unlatched door. "I'd better go in now," he said and opened the door. Starbuck was reliving the all-too-real nightmare of his torture in his sleep. The nightmares had faded by the time he left Life Center and disappeared with the help of Dr. Salik and Colonel Tigh. But Boomer's brief reappearance in his life had brought them back in full force. Only now there was an element that hadn't been there in reality. In his dreams, Starbuck wasn't alone with the mad Siress Belloby and the fiendish Count Baltar. In his dreams, Apollo had been captured with him, captured and watching him get tortured. The dream Apollo watched as Belloby with her five-bladed glove caressed Starbuck's body; he watched her dig the blades into Starbuck's cheek to force his mouth open for Baltar's cock; and when she hooked the blades into Starbuck's buttock to pull him open, again for Baltar, she used her grip on Starbuck to turn him to face Apollo. "Look at your pretty lover now, Captain," she cooed. "Do you still want him?" "Don't look, Apollo!" Starbuck cried out. "Don't look at what they've done to me." Apollo hurried to the bedside as his lover became more frantic, apparently unable to free himself from the dream. "I'm here, Bucko. I'm here and I still want you." In Starbuck's dream, Apollo was suddenly free of his chains and crouching beside him, held there by Belloby's free hand. He watched with mounting disgust as Baltar pounded away at the blond warrior, causing Starbuck's member to respond, despite the pain he was in. "Do you still want him, Captain?" Belloby chanted, while Baltar leered at Apollo. "Show us how much you want him. Give him a kiss." She let go of Apollo's arm to grab Starbuck's chin and thrust it upward so he faced Apollo. The gouges on his cheek dripping with blood, Baltar's cum still dripping from his mouth, Starbuck tried to twist away, but he was caught triply - by Belloby's blades in his buttock, her other hand gripping his chin hard enough to break his jaw, and Baltar's rigid member plunging deep inside him. The dream Apollo pushed Starbuck's face away from him and then frantically trying to wipe the blood and cum off his hands using Starbuck's hair. Then he began vomiting violently, covering Starbuck's head with the bile pouring out of his mouth. With a cry, Baltar climaxed, followed by Starbuck, despite the fact that he was now facedown on the floor, adding his own vomit to Apollo's, choking and smothering in the combination. Baltar pulled out of Starbuck and came around to his head. "Tsk, tsk, what kind of warrior are you two, getting sick over a little blood and semen?" he asked laughing at them. Pulling on his gloves, he yanked Starbuck's head up by the hair. "Oh, dear, Belloby. Look what they've done. We can't risk those little cuts getting infected now, can we?" Belloby cackled and tore her bladed glove out of Starbuck. "No, Baltar, we wouldn't want that to happen. I'll just get something to clean them out with." She moved away, returning almost immediately with a metal container, which she handed to Baltar. Baltar poured the liquid from the container onto Starbuck's gouged cheek. By sheer luck none of it splashed into his eye. As soon as it hit, Starbuck was immersed in burning pain. He began screaming and his open mouth allowed the acid, for that's what it was, to drip in. Reflexively he swallowed, gagging as the acid burned its way down his throat. He pulled away from Baltar, shaking his head to cool his burning cheek. Droplets of bloody acid flew from Starbuck's face. The dream Apollo jumped back and, realizing he was free, ran from the room. Starbuck collapsed, sobbing, "No, don't leave me! Apollo, come back! My face can be fixed. I can be beautiful again. Don't leave me!" But Apollo's steps didn't falter; he continued running and the sound of his boots hitting the ground faded away. Starbuck's grief overcame his pain. He hardly noticed as Baltar poured the remainder of the acid over the wounds in his buttock and Belloby caught his scrotum on her blades to position him to that the runoff went directly into his rectum. "Please come back, Apollo! Please come back!" He pleaded. Then the burning below hit. "It hurts so bad, Apollo. Please hold me, it hurts so bad." Apollo cradled Starbuck, trying to ease him out of the nightmare that held him in its grip. "Here I am, Bucko. I'm holding you. I'm with you now," he called softly. Starbuck moaned. "No, no, you mustn't look at me, just hold me. You'll run away if you see what they did." "I'm not running away," Apollo told the sleeper. "I'm staying right here with you." Starbuck tossed his head violently from side to side. "You'll get sick to your stomach and run away," he insisted. "Looking at me makes you vomit." Apollo held Starbuck's head still. "Shh. Listen. Your face doesn't upset me. I love you. What you look like doesn't matter to me." "Dreaming," Starbuck muttered, eyes still closed. "Frakking dreams! Can't even get *that* right. Apollo wasn't there. He's not here. He didn't need to see - he knew it was over without even looking. He knew." A sob broke from the scarred throat. Apollo realized Starbuck was awake, but thought he was still dreaming. "Starbuck," he ordered, "Open your eyes. Now. Look at me." Apollo's tone of voice demanded obedience. Starbuck sighed deeply and blinked his eyes open. "Boomer lied to me," was all he said in a bitter rasp. "Boomer?" Apollo asked, confused. "He knows you're here?" "Isn't that how you found me?" Starbuck answered the question with one of his own. Somehow, he didn't move from Apollo's arms. "N-no." Apollo paused to think. Orion had commed his quarters, asking for Boomer, but when Apollo told him Boomer was on deep space patrol, Orion had sounded so distraught that Apollo had asked if there was anything he could do in Boomer's absence. Although the comm had roused him from uneasy dreams, as soon as Orion mentioned Starbuck's name, Apollo had been wide-awake. Starbuck watched Apollo's eyes unfocus. 'Well, it's more subtle than looking away,' he thought. But when Apollo remained lost in thought, Starbuck began to worry. "Apollo?" he called softly. Apollo blinked rapidly, then looked down at the man in his arms. He smiled reassuringly. "Right here. Just thinking." This had to be another dream, Starbuck decided. Very realistic, but a dream nonetheless. How else could Apollo look at him and smile, his green eyes full of love. But the arms around him felt real. From within the chest against which he lay, Starbuck could feel the steady heartbeat and soft rise and fall of calm breathing. If it was a dream, Starbuck decided he would go with it. It was better than his real life. He snuggled closer into Apollo's arms. "Hold me a little longer?" he asked. "As long as you'll let me," Apollo averred. Starbuck smiled sadly and shook his head. "No. I know this is a dream. It's a much better one than I usually have, but I'll wake up soon and you won't be here. So if you could just hold me a little longer before you go..." "Starbuck!" Apollo shook him by the shoulders. "I am *not* a dream. I am *not* going away. No one's going to keep me from you again. Not even you!" "Okay, okay, okay. I believe you. Dreams don't do this. At least not my dreams." Starbuck sat up and brushed the hair out of his eyes. He moved back on the bed, but didn't try to remove the arm Apollo kept around him. "So why now? You said Boomer didn't tell you where I was. Who did? Greenbean? Jolly? I think they're the only ones who recognized me." "And I assume you made them all promise not to tell." Starbuck nodded. "Nobody broke a promise, although I wish they had, Bucko." "Then how?" "Your boss - Orion? He commed looking for Boomer. Now I know why. I guess I should have eaten with the other pilots instead of with my father and Athena while the OC was out of commission." "No. I ... I'm glad you didn't. I'm sorry you found me now. I'd rather you remembered me the way I used to look." Starbuck looked down, not wanting to see pity in his former lover's eyes anymore than he had wanted to see disgust and horror. "So you'll let Boomer have you, but not me? Why? Because he's our Master?" Starbuck looked up, surprised and distracted by Apollo's words. "You know, I think that's it. I mean I responded to him immediately as Master, not as Boomer. I ... I've missed you both so much, there hasn't been anyone else - how could there be?" Starbuck gestured at his face. "I guess I didn't think 'friend', I thought 'Master'." "It's a game, Starbuck! That's all it's ever been, just a good game we all enjoyed." He looked closely at Starbuck. "It *is* a game, Bucko. You were never really forced..." "No, no," Starbuck hastily assured him. "I know that. I always knew it." 'Well, almost always. When it first started, I thought it was for real - Until you became Boomer's slave, too. Then I knew it was just for fun. And I loved it.' Starbuck sighed and a tear ran down his cheek. "Bucko?" Apollo asked. "Where'd you go now?" "Just remembering how good it was," Starbuck said. "But what I meant was I missed *us* so much, that's the first thing I thought when I saw Boomer." He paused. Another tear fell. "But he couldn't fake it. He tried, he really did. But..." Starbuck shook his head, wiped at the tears furiously. "Frak! I'm turning into a teenage girl!" Apollo couldn't help but laugh. "I don't think you could *ever* turn into a girl, Bucko!" Starbuck joined him in the laughter and moved a little closer. "But are you sure it was because he couldn't *look* at you? That just doesn't sound like Boomer. He's got a stronger stomach than either of us - and no one needs a strong stomach to look at you anyway," he hurried on to say, "You're scarred, yes. One side of your face, it's not beautiful anymore. But *you're* still beautiful. I can't believe that Boomer..." "He pushed me away, Apollo," Starbuck interrupted. "He pushed me off him while we were playing and ... and he made me..." Starbuck trailed off and turned bright red. "You don't have to tell me," Apollo said. Starbuck couldn't take being humiliated or degraded. Apollo knew it was part of the game and took it in stride when Boomer was in that mood. 'But Boomer knows that,' Apollo thought. 'Why would he?' He shook his head. The only way to find out would be to ask Boomer. "I don't know, but I'm betting there was something else that got to him." Starbuck shrugged. "But Boomer isn't me. I'm not faking, Starbuck." "You never came to see me in Life Center. I was there for half a yahren," Starbuck said quietly. "I couldn't leave, Salik wouldn't let me unless there was somebody to take care of ... of what I couldn't. But there wasn't anybody. Nobody came to see me." Starbuck wrenched out of Apollo's light grip and buried his face in the pillow, the hurt and rejection assailing him as if it were fresh. "Nobody, Apollo, nobody. Don't say it's my vanity - tell me why nobody ever came to see me." He took a deep breath. "Oh Gods, I don't want to remember this. Please go, Apollo. I can't do this anymore than Boomer could." Apollo didn't move, except to reach out and rub Starbuck's back soothingly. Eventually Starbuck stopped sobbing and drifted into sleep. Apollo kicked his boots off and stretched out next to the blond man, pulling the covers over both of them and holding him gently but securely in his arms. Then he, too, fell into a dreamless sleep. *** Starbuck awoke first. Someone was knocking on the door. He tried to roll over and check the chrono to see if he had forgotten to set the alarm and overslept, only to find he was held by something. He thought he was twisted in the covers, but soon discovered he was entangled in Apollo. Apollo! Not a dream Apollo who turned away, but his real love, still here beside him, refusing to leave. The knocking hadn't stopped and had awakened Apollo. He opened sleepy eyes and smiled dreamily at Starbuck. Starbuck froze, but didn't pull away. He let the green eyes focus and waited for the happiness and love to drain out of them. It didn't. "'Pol?" he asked his voice quavering through no fault of the scars in his throat. "You really don't care about my face?" "No. And it's not that bad anyway. It's a shock at first; I'm sure that's why people look away, but it's not ... stomach-turning." He glanced at the door, but made sure he looked right back at Starbuck. "The door?" "Oh. Yeah." Starbuck got up and opened the door to find Boomer on the other side, arguing with Orion. "I told you not to disturb them. I said I'd give them a message. You, Lieutenant, are trespassing on private property, and if you don't want to be hauled away by Security..." "It's all right, Orion, but thanks," Starbuck interrupted. "C'mon in, Boomer," he invited, stepping back. He closed the door as soon as Boomer walked in. Taking a deep breath, he decided to try the experiment again. He watched Boomer watching him. Boomer's expression was wary, but he wasn't avoiding looking at Starbuck. In fact, if Starbuck hadn't known better, he would have said Boomer was memorizing his face; he was staring at it so intently. "Something wrong?" he asked finally, rubbing a hand across his unshaven chin and right cheek. "You woke me ... us. I didn't get a chance to clean up yet." "You're both all right?" Boomer finally spared a glance for Apollo. The two disheveled men exchanged glances then nodded. Boomer addressed Apollo "I was worried. I got back and you were nowhere to be found. Nobody's seen you either. I checked the comm log and saw Orion had called, so I came here. Then he wouldn't let me in." "We're fine," Apollo assured him. "We ... were trying to ... figure out..." he trailed off, unsure of what they had been trying to do. "What Apollo's trying to say is that he saved me from a nightmare. Probably why Orion commed - looking for you. I guess I get pretty noisy. We ended up trying to catch up on ... what had happened since I got hurt." He looked away then back. "I got pretty emotional." He turned to Apollo. "Why'd you stay? To make sure I was all right?" "I could sound all altruistic and say 'yes'," Apollo chuckled, "but actually I stayed for very selfish reasons. You fell asleep and ... and I wanted to sleep next to you. It's been a long time for me, too." That brought back the previous night's conversation and both men turned to Boomer. "What?" the dark man said at their glare. "Why couldn't you ... finish our, umm, sex game when you were here?" Starbuck asked, cutting to the chase. Boomer sighed. "Your bottom. I didn't want to hurt you. It looks so ... I was afraid I'd really hurt you. That isn't part of the game." "Then why did you make me ... you know..." Starbuck asked immediately. Boomer furrowed his brow. "Frak! I swear to Sagan I didn't think about how you might ... I just wanted to give you release, you were so hard and turned on, and I couldn't do it the way you wanted me to. I thought ordering you to do it yourself like that, it was more staying in the mood of the game." Starbuck searched Boomer's face and was surprised when Boomer's eyes didn't slide away, but remained steady, meeting his. Finally Starbuck nodded. "It doesn't hurt," he said finally. "It's all healed, no pain. Actually, my left side's less sensitive to pain than the right." Boomer nodded and there was an awkward silence for several centons. Starbuck pulled out clean clothes and toyed with them, not actually making a move to change from his sleepwear. The other two men exchanged glances as they watched Starbuck fidget. Finally he burst out, "Then why didn't anybody come to see me when I was in Life Center?" Boomer and Apollo exchanged glances. "It's time he knew," Boomer said. Apollo shook his head. "Knew what?" Starbuck asked. "Tell him," Boomer said. "Or I will." *** "No, I'll tell him, at least my part of it." Apollo turned to Starbuck, who had seated himself on the bed and was quietly waiting for someone to answer him. "Starbuck, what do you remember about your rescue?" Apollo asked gently, not wanting to stir up bad memories any more than was necessary. "Not much," Starbuck admitted. "It was a while after they had done this," he made his usual gesture at his face, "And after that they pretty much did what they wanted with me - them and their Cylon guards. They kept me in a dark cell, shackled. When I was rescued, the light blinded me and then someone was screaming - me maybe? That's all I remember until, well, Dr. Salik said I'd been in Life Center almost a secton." "It *was* you that screamed," Apollo confirmed. We had negotiated an exchange; it was supposed to be a ruse with no one left behind, but it didn't work out that way. I was thrown into the cell and the lights were turned off again. I hadn't had much time to locate you when the Centurions threw me in, so I kind of groped around to find you. I grabbed your face and you started screaming." "You didn't know. They kept the wounds open, Salik said, and my jaw was broken and hadn't been set. Anywhere you touched me would have set me off. And if you had happened to reach lower, I would have been screaming for different reasons." "You're right, I didn't know. I didn't find any of that out until sectars later. I was supposed to get you ready to sneak out, but your screams alerted the Centurions and they came back and watched until Boomer and Baltar came to get you. I couldn't calm you down; I guess all my stroking just caused you more pain and you didn't know who I was. You kept fighting me and at one point you kicked me so hard in the stomach that I vomited. I think that's where you got the idea that looking at you made me sick to my stomach." "Must be. But I don't remember any of that." "I'm not surprised," Boomer put in. "We already knew what they had done, Bucko. Baltar commed a holo of you, in 3D, to the Galactica. He said you were useless as a hostage, your mind was completely gone, and he wanted a healthy hostage in exchange. We agreed and then worked up a plan." "That I wrecked," Starbuck said bitterly. "No, Bucko, no," Apollo said. "It just went wrong. It was as much my fault as yours. We didn't count on it being pitch black; we probably wouldn't have succeeded because of that alone." He paused and waited until Starbuck nodded. "Anyway, because we knew you were badly hurt, Dr. Salik insisted on being part of the rescue team himself. So he sedated you and he and Boomer took you back to the Galactica." "Leaving you behind?" Starbuck was aghast. "Boomer, how could you? You must have known I was a lost cause, how could you leave Apollo and take me?" "That was the deal, Bucko," Apollo said firmly. "Besides, I insisted. Dr. Salik gave his medical opinion that your injuries might be fatal. Baltar *graciously* gave us the choice of choosing who stayed, you or me. But there was no decision to be made." "Commander should have court-martialed the lot of you," Starbuck grumbled. "You could have been bringing back a dead body and leaving a healthy warrior. In fact, as far as military usefulness is concerned, that's exactly what you did." "And you would have done something different if our places had been changed?" Apollo asked skeptically. "Well, no," Starbuck admitted. "But you're the Commander's son and the Strike Captain. I was just one of a bunch of junior officers, completely replaceable. There's no comparison." "No you're not," both warriors answered at the same time. Starbuck waved the sentiment away. He couldn't afford to get caught up in it. "So that's why you never came to see me. What about you, Boomer? What about all my other ... friends?" He choked on the word. All his life he had kept the world at a distance so he'd never be hurt the way he had been when his parents abandoned him. Finally he opened up a tiny bit, thought he had family and friends - until his stay in Life Center proved him wrong. Boomer took up the thread of the story. "When we brought you back, you had to be kept sedated for a sectar, until they could do enough surgeries to get you back in working order. Conscious, you fought them tooth and nail and they were afraid you'd wear yourself out. When they finally let you regain consciousness, the first thing you did was ask for a mirror. And the idiot medtech on duty gave you one without warning you what you'd see or having anybody nearby to support you." "That I remember. Actually, I'd been watching her for a while and I saw she wouldn't look at my face, even though I was supposedly unconscious. That made me suspicious. I could tell I wasn't bandaged and I remembered quite clearly what Baltar and Belloby had done. Then when I asked for you two..." "She ran out of the room," Boomer finished for him. "Yeah, I know. Salik had her cleaning bedpans for the rest of your stay." He paused and put his finger under Starbuck's chin to raise his face so that they were staring into each other's eyes. "Dr. Salik felt that if you knew that Apollo exchanged himself for you it would kill you on the spot or you'd try to sneak out and get him back. Either way you'd wind up dead. He decided that no one would be able to lie to you, so no one should be allowed to see you until you were stronger and could handle the truth." "And when I was, I refused to see you because I thought I knew why you hadn't come to see me." The two other men nodded. Apollo picked up the tale. "I escaped on my own. Cylons are altogether too routine-oriented; it was easy to find gaps in their coverage of the cells. And they never did learn to guard the launch bay." "I didn't find it easy," Starbuck muttered. "Guess I just wasn't smart enough." "Starbuck!" Apollo spoke harshly to break him out of his bitterness and self-recrimination. The anger he couldn't turn on his lovers now that he knew the truth, he was turning on himself. "The circumstances were completely different. Once you were gone, they put me in a guarded room - all the amenities, but no freedom. Theyy never touched me although they threatened to. After a while they got bored with that and started harping at each other. For all I know, they forgot I was there. Anyway, it took me three sectars to work everything out and feel sure that Baltar and Belloby wouldn't notice, and then I went." "I'm glad you weren't hurt," Starbuck said, completely sincere. It had been preying on him since Apollo had told him of the exchange. "Starbuck, come back with us," Apollo begged. "Please. We both want you. Need you," Boomer added. Starbuck looked uncertain. He knew Orion could easily replace him; unemployment even among skilled workers, was still high in the Fleet. "I'm not..." he paused. They already knew he was disfigured. "I can't ... do everything I used to," he said. He turned to Boomer. "You saw. I know you did." Boomer nodded. "I thought you were in pain." "I was. It felt good, too. But it was painful. And I ... I need a lot of care. There's stuff..." "That you can't do by yourself. We know. Salik had briefed us. When we thought you'd come home with us." "I *can* do it myself. My body can function. But it's painful. Salik says it might get better over time, but he doesn't know how much time. In the meantime, it's not something you'd want to have to do every cycle." "Yes we would." Apollo was quietly certain. Boomer nodded in agreement. "Salik also told us your scars could be ... diminished I think was the word he used." "Yeah, he told me, too. After I healed completely he could do abrasions and rebuilding." "And are you going to?" "I wasn't going to bother. Who would I be doing it for? Besides, I've been kind of using the scars as camouflage." "So will you come back with us?" Starbuck sighed. "Why?" he asked, not knowing how to put all his questions into words. Apollo slid to his knees in front of Starbuck and held Starbuck's face in his hands. "Because we love you. Not your body. Not how you can pleasure us and perform for us. We love you, Starbuck." 'This is safe. This is comfortable. You have everything you need in this small room and something useful to do right outside it,' Starbuck told himself. 'They mean well, but they don't know how little of "Starbuck" is left. Don't take the risk.' "Not yet," Starbuck said finally. "I can't come with you yet. There are things I want to do, things I need to know. Give me some time. I'll come to you in a few sectons. Then if you still want me, I'll stay." He held up his hand to forestall their protests. "And if you don't, that will be okay, too. You have to promise you'll be honest. I want your love - I want it desperately. But I don't want you to hold me out of pity and I don't want you to resent me because of what I'm not anymore. Promise me you'll really think about it and talk with each other about it. Find out from Salik just what you would be seeing and doing. And I'll be finding out what I need to know. Then we can decide together whether it can work. Give me three sectons." The two warriors nodded in silence. What choice did they have? "Good!" Starbuck rose and began dressing energetically. "Now let's get some breakfast and then you two get out of here. Don't you have to protect the Fleet or something?" *** "It *is* tonight, right?" Apollo asked for the third time. "Yes. Tonight at 2100. He'll come to our quarters." "To stay?" "Apollo!" Boomer was as worried as the Captain was, but he was getting frustrated with Apollo continuing to ask him questions that didn't have answers yet. "Sorry." A centon later he spoke again. "How could Salik possibly know about what we do in private?" "Maybe Starbuck told him enough to let him answer." "Sounded to me more like Salik and Starbuck have been playing Master/Slave games." "Maybe they have." Apollo's mouth opened and shut without a sound coming out. "I've been thinking about it, Apollo," Boomer explained. "Starbuck said he needed to find out some things. I'm thinking he wanted to know his limits before he came to us. Who else could he go to? And in a sense, Salik would have to play "Master" but be ready to sedate him or whatever if things went wrong. So he'd know that we couldn't get rough, couldn't restrain him in any way, all the things he told us not to do." "But it's okay with you?" Apollo asked anxiously. "Do you think that's all you two mean to me - people to boss around and discipline?" "No, of course not, but taking that element out of our relationship entirely..." "Isn't it already?" Boomer sighed. "I don't need to be Master. I just need your love, yours and Starbuck's. Maybe we've outgrown the game. When was the last time we played it?" Apollo thought for a while then shook his head. "I can't remember." "That's how long ago it was. Do you miss it?" "Not really," Apollo admitted. "It was fun, relaxing really, to have somebody else in charge for a while. But, no, I don't miss it. Maybe I don't need it as much anymore." "Exactly. And I really don't think we're dealing with the cocky Starbuck who needs the game to bring him down a notch, you know?" Apollo nodded. "You and Starbuck always had an equal relationship. Now I'm just going to join you." "Are we getting old?" "Nah, you two are just finally growing up." *** Starbuck tucked his bag into the nearest utility closet, and then locked it with a private access code. Maybe he'd need it - he hoped so - but he didn't want them to feel pressured by his walking in with all his belongings. 'Salik talked to them,' he reminded himself. 'He told them everything in clinical detail. Maybe they've changed their minds now. You can't blame them if what you've got left to offer isn't enough. And you can just go back to the way it's been.' He tried to convince himself that was true. He rubbed his rough, reddened left cheek. It wasn't too bad; people no longer looked away after a quick glance. He squared his shoulders, knowing he was stalling, and walked to the door of what used to be his home. At the sound of the doorbell, Boomer called out, "Code hasn't changed," even as Apollo jumped up and raced to open the door. Starbuck pushed the door open just as Apollo pulled and the two fell in a heap on the floor. Apollo clutched Starbuck frantically, kissing his whole face, then pulling him tightly to him. "Tell me you'll stay. Please tell me you'll stay," he cried. Starbuck pushed away with one hand, leaving the rest of his body entangled with Apollo's. "I guess you still want me even after everything Salik told you." Apollo nodded vigorously. Starbuck looked up at Boomer, standing over them. "And you, Boomer?" "You two obviously can't take care of yourselves without me," Boomer said gruffly, to hide his own emotions. He put his hands on his hips in mock annoyance. "You can't even open a door successfully. You need a keeper more than another lover, but I don't see how I have a choice. You'd kill each other with love if I wasn't here to take up the slack." He reached down and pulled Starbuck up into his arms, offering a hand to Apollo to help him up, too. "Of course I want you back, anyway I can have you." "Good. I'll get my bag and be right back." "I'll get it for you." Apollo ran out into the hall then right back in. "Where is it?" "First utility closet on the right," Starbuck said, laughing. "The code is..." but Apollo was already out the door again. "He'll figure out the code, Bucko," Boomer assured him. "Now go wash up; we waited dinner for you." "Good, I couldn't eat and now I'm starving." "Hurry up then, it's your turn to set the table." Boomer playfully swatted Starbuck on his departing rump and they both laughed. 'Yeah, I think it really will work out,' Boomer thought happily. *** It wasn't until halfway through dinner that Apollo reached across the table and stroked Starbuck's left cheek. "Your face," he breathed in surprise. "I know it's not the way it was," Starbuck said, catching and holding Apollo's hand in place. "But it's the best they can do. Paye says the redness will fade soon." "It's beautiful, it's wonderful," Apollo said. Boomer nodded, watching his two lovers adore each other. Very soon thereafter, the three lovers moved into the bedroom to explore their renewed relationship in a more physical way. But I'm going to draw the curtains and close the door on that; some things are just better left to the imagination. FINIS