Brand New Dance

"Apollo?" Starbuck's voice preceded him into the quarters; Apollo hadn't even heard the door open.

"I'm here," he said, coming out into the front room.

"Apollo," Starbuck said, his voice sharp, "what—" He stopped, doing a double-take, and said in an entirely different tone, "What happened to you?" He reached out and gently turned Apollo's face to the side so he could get a better look. "Or should I say, who happened to you? Sheba, from the size of it?"

"Yes. She was a bit upset."

"Bitch," Starbuck said. "Does it hurt much?"

"Not any more, and she was justified."

"Not in violence. Sit down here."

"I'm all right," Apollo protested, but let Starbuck push him down onto the couch. "And she had a point—I did lead her on. Sort of."

"She overreacted," Starbuck said firmly. "You weren't promised—you weren't promised, were you?" he asked anxiously, dropping to sit on his heels next to the couch. The expression in his eyes cut right through the knot of jealousy still in Apollo's gut, and it dissolved into nothingness.

"No," Apollo reassured him. "We weren't. We weren't even talking about it—though apparently everybody else on this ship was."

Starbuck grinned at him. "I was running a book on it," he admitted.

"I hope you're not going to lose any money. We can't afford it."

"I'm running the book," the blond said with dignity. "I didn't bet; it would have been unethical..."

"You mean you were waiting for inside information."

"I'm going to ignore that slur on my character. But you've reminded me. What's this about your getting demoted? Did your father take it that badly?"

"That wasn't him. Well, not really. Tigh pointed out that I was in your chain of command no matter what—"

"Well, thank you, Colonel."

"No, no," Apollo protested Starbuck's bitter tone. "He meant well and he did well, too. If he hadn't given me that heads-up, Father would have hit me with your having to resign from the service, and I'd have ended quitting in protest—"

"Apollo. You're too good a pilot for that."

"I know," he accepted it, and then pointed out, "I'm still flying this way. And I won't miss the paperwork, the extra hours, the politicking with the Council... really, Starbuck. I won't."

"It's not right. Serina was your fracking wingman."

"We weren't married then. Tigh pointed out that Father could claim he was planning on doing something about it... Starbuck, Tigh's on our side. He really is."

"If you say so."

"He is. He grabbed me before I talked to Father and helped me figure out what to do to minimize the damage."

"This is minimized?"

"Compared to one or both of us out of the service altogether? I think so. In fact, Tigh's the one who suggested this. I was thinking more of going into ops somehow..."

"Ops?" Starbuck wrinkled his nose involuntarily. "And he didn't want you?"

"More, he knew I didn't want it... Starbuck, Tigh knew Father's reaction better than I did. It's not surprising, he's known him for almost a hundred yahrens... and been hiding from him that long, too."

"Hiding? You mean—?"

Apollo nodded. "I think he envies us, really. His lover died during the Destruction, on Ariana."

"Gods, that's sad. They never married?"

"The man was a teacher. And back when they met, well, Tigh said he'd never have gotten ahead if he'd been open."

"Neither will you, apparently." Starbuck returned to the original topic with renewed bitterness.

"Starbuck, what would you have done if Father had told you it was against regs for you to be married to me 'cause I'd be your CO no matter what, being Strike Captain?" The blue eyes faltered before his; he sighed and said, "Starbuck, I couldn't stand it if you'd quit. You live to kill Cylons."

"Yeah, well," he acknowledged, "I'm working on getting a new primary function."

"I know," Apollo said, and they looked into each other's eyes for a long moment of silent communication. Then Apollo swallowed and said, forcing himself back on topic, "But even then, you'll be living to love me and kill Cylons... I couldn't be the reason you lost that."

"I'd survive it."

"But you don't have to, that's the point. Starbuck, you were born to fly."

"So were you."

Apollo laughed. "No. I was made that way, and I love it, but it's the only thing I really love about the service. I could give it all up and barely miss it as long as I had something to do. Honestly, Starbuck," he insisted. "I realized that today. You're so much more important to me than rank or position. There's damned little I wouldn't give up for you, and nothing I did give up that I'm really going to miss."

"You shouldn't have had to give up any of it."

"Normally, I'd agree with you," Apollo admitted. "But things aren't normal... I didn't give up anything that mattered. Not that I wouldn't—" he added as Starbuck's irrepressible nature produced a laugh at the phrasing. "But honestly. How could I miss staff meetings? Council meetings? Politics? All those extra centares away from what does matter?"

Starbuck laid his head on Apollo's knee. "I love you." Then he looked back up at him, those eyes so candid they made Apollo's heart ache. "But we should have talked about this."

"I know. And we will from now on. And we would have if I'd thought of it... but all I thought of, all either of us did," he reminded Starbuck, "was that you'd have to transfer out of Blue. It caught me with no time to find you and talk." Not completely true, he realized even as he said it. He'd made the decision on his own. Habit...

"I guess," Starbuck accepted it. "But don't give up anything else without at least consulting me. Promise?"

"Promise. Not that I've got much left to give up," he added wryly. "I'm sort of stripped to the bone. I told Tigh he was looking at a new man, born again, but Athena put the right name to it."

"She would," Starbuck smiled. "She's not angry?"

"Not so I noticed. She expressed a certain annoyance with the way we've both behaved in the past, more me than you I think, but she's happy now. She told me I was whole for the first time in my adult life. She was right." He laid his hand against Starbuck's cheek. "I am."

Starbuck leaned into his palm. "Me, too, Apollo. For the first time ever."

Apollo caught his breath. What was wrong with him that he could doubt this man? He slid his hand around to the back of Starbuck's neck and pulled him in for a kiss. Starbuck sighed, leaned in, and opened his mouth. Apollo raised his other hand to Starbuck's face and kissed him gently, but with an aching desire. A soft sound escaped Starbuck's throat, a sound Apollo had never heard before, a pleading sound, and his hands caught in the front of Apollo's shirt, pulling them close together. Apollo deepened the kiss, his tongue pushing against Starbuck's, and across his palate. The blond made the sound again, and freed one hand to find the back of the couch and pull himself onto the cushion next to Apollo. Then that hand found Apollo's dark hair and he fell backwards, bringing Apollo with him, so that he was underneath. Apollo felt his openness, his desire, feeding his own. He pulled away to catch breath enough to say, "Sleeping room, love." Starbuck kissed him and he almost gave in to the other man's need, but, "Boxey—if he comes in," he said, "come on, love."

Starbuck let go and they rose together, kissing again. By the time they got into the sleeping room, Starbuck was pulling his own shirt off. He dropped it on the floor and almost dragged Apollo onto the bed, and onto him. Normally, when Starbuck wanted to be taken, Apollo was in a hurry to do it. Dominance wasn't something he forced—not now, not ever again—but he enjoyed it. But somehow, things were different now. He was different now.

He eased onto the bed next to Starbuck and kissed him again, and then moved to brush his lips over Starbuck's eyes, to kiss the blond temple and nibble on his ear. Starbuck moaned softly, his hands running over Apollo's back and then sliding under his shirt. Apollo moaned, too, as he felt his lifemate's hands on his bare skin. A moment of that, and then Starbuck was pulling the shirt over Apollo's head. Apollo paused kissing him long enough for that, and then began lapping at the pale throat laid open to his mouth. Starbuck shivered. Apollo noticed, and was ashamed of himself, that Starbuck smelled only of himself. He gentled his touch even more, and felt the other man give up all his defenses, even those he'd had for so long Apollo had thought they were inalienable.

Somehow, the rest of their clothes came off, Apollo wasn't sure how, it didn't seem as if they'd stopped kissing and caressing long enough to strip each other. But his hands were on Starbuck's hips, his mouth kissing his belly and teasing his cock with feather-light tonguing. He heard the drawer open and then Starbuck was handing him the lube, and turning over. Apollo stopped him, leaning forward to kiss him on the mouth, deeply. "No," he whispered into Starbuck's throat. "I want to see your eyes, love."

Starbuck pulled his head back and looked at him, and then raised up and returned the kiss, hungrily. Apollo wasn't sure how long they stayed like that, it could have been forever, but eventually their mutual desire drove them apart long enough for Apollo to slide fingers into Starbuck, two and then three, needing to be certain. Then, a little unsurely, he raised Starbuck's legs and entered, drawing a sob of pleasure from his lifemate, who threw his head back, eyes closed, as Apollo pushed all the way in. But, as Apollo began to thrust, Starbuck opened his eyes and Apollo lost himself in them, the hot blue of a young star, surrendered to him. He reached for Starbuck's cock with his left hand and when they came, it was at the same time, and Apollo fell forward on Starbuck's body, and when he tasted salt on his lips, he realized it was his own tears.

He clung to Starbuck, who pulled him close and wrapped the edge of the spread around them. "What's this?" he asked gently, brushing his fingers across Apollo's face.

"Love," said Apollo.

"I love you, too," Starbuck whispered. Then, after a long, cuddling silence, he brushed his lips across Apollo's cheek and said, "I could get used to coming home to this."

"Good," Apollo said, and then, "And where have you been, anyway?" He pushed the tawny hair out of Starbuck's eyes. "You hadn't talked to Boomer when I got there."

"Couldn't find him," Starbuck answered. "He wasn't there when I stopped by. So I went looking for Cassie."

"She didn't damage you," he said, and there was barely a trace of jealousy left in him. He'd probably never lose it all, he realized, and he was still possessive, but now he knew he trusted, and that made—would make—all the difference. He'd have to work at it for the rest of his life, he couldn't shed all his bad traits so easily, but he rather thought he'd just have to remember moments like this and the work would be a joy.

"No," Starbuck answered. "She's a nicer person than Sheba... Are you two going to be able to work together?"

Apollo shrugged. "She said so. If we can't it'll be her. Boomer is going to have to be careful, but he's fair. He'll keep her professional if she can't."

"I hope so. I'd hate to have to depend on her to watch your back. Or mine, for that matter."

"Oh, it's me she's pissed off at. And Bojay'll keep you alive," Apollo chuckled.

"Bojay as my guardian angel... that's surreal."

"Ummm... So Cassie's not going to poison me the next time I wind up in the Life Center?" Maybe it was just a trace, but he couldn't help it.

Starbuck laughed. "No. Nor me, either. She told me," he added, "she knew I didn't love her when I didn't fight for her with Cain. Figuratively speaking, of course. That was working so well I didn't point out that my preferability to him rested solely on being eighty yahrens younger. And not having Sheba as a blood relative, I should add."

"Those are both very nice attributes," Apollo agreed, damning Starbuck's insecurities to the seventh hell, "but I'd overlook them."

"Oh, you," Starbuck said fondly. "You've never been in love with Cain. You haven't, have you," he added with mock anxiety. "Please say you haven't even if you have."

"No," Apollo laughed. "I can honestly say I never was. And I can add that that's a very disturbing notion and I really wish you hadn't put it in my head."

"Sorry," Starbuck said unrepentantly, and then more seriously, "I am sorry about your father, Apollo."

He grunted. "I know you are, but it's hardly your fault."

"I'll bet he doesn't think so."

"Oh, yes, it's all your evil, heathen influence. He told me to marry Sheba anyway, for my 'salvation'."

Starbuck growled.

Apollo basked in that for a moment, and then said, "You know, he should marry Sheba. She could give him an heir and they'd both be happy."

"He disowned you?" Starbuck was outraged. "Why the hell didn't you say something earlier?"

"Why? I told you—"

"That you didn't give up anything important. That mattered. That was a lie, and you know it."

"I didn't give him up," Apollo said quickly. "He gave me up, but I told him I wasn't saying goodbye. Don't blame yourself for that, please, Starbuck. It's not your fault."

"Apollo—"

"No. I mean it. Yes, I'd rather he hadn't reacted like that, but I had the choice. I could have tossed you to the lupines and crawled back inside the safety of his approval. And died."

"Apollo, love," Starbuck hugged him and Apollo burrowed into the safety of that hold. "I'm sorry."

"It's all right. I'll survive. I've got you, and Boxey, and Theni. And I knew he'd be bad."

"Who's comforting who, here?" That was said with a little laugh.

"Each the other?" Apollo guessed. "That sounds like a nice way to live."

"It does, doesn't it. Don't get too used to it right away, though."

"What?" Apollo pulled back to see those blue eyes laughing at him.

"Boomer told me. I'll be sleeping in the barracks for the next secton."

"Not tonight! You're off tomorrow."

"Well..."

"What?"

"By-name assignment to fill in tomorrow for Keili, in Green."

"Bastard."

Fortunately Starbuck knew who that was for. "Yep," he agreed. "Still, it's only six centares; I can stay here till almost midnight. And I'm still in Blue, so we're on the same duty schedule, almost, just one day offset. You're the lucky one."

"How so, pray tell?"

"You won't be sleeping in the barracks with twenty pilots who are pissed off because they'd rather be sleeping someplace else."

"Starbuck—"

"Ah, don't worry. I'm sure I can focus their anger where it belongs. God knows I don't want to be there."

"I hope so. About the focusing anger."

"Boomer will help. He's pissed about it. Now, there's a man who was born to be an administrator. Gods help the man who tries to mess with his schedules."

Apollo grinned. Something else occurred to him. "You are still in Blue? I mean, this Green thing is just tomorrow?"

"Supposed to be today, too, but Boomer said he gave it to somebody else because he couldn't find me... but he also said he'd fight it if anyone suggested making it permanent. He does the squadron rosters, thank you very much."

"That's nice. He told me he wouldn't put his neck on the block for us."

"Well, he told me that, too, but he added he meant special favors. He's a fair man, Apollo. You know that. You just said so yourself."

"Yeah, you're right. I'm just gun-shy, I guess."

"Now why would you be? But this won't be easy for him, either, you know, not for a while. It'll help, having Tigh on our side."

"He's worse than fair," Apollo warned. "He's by the book. Besides, we agreed that he need to stay in Father's favor. After all, Commander Adama is very important to the Fleet—"

"Only if you buy that we have to go to Earth," Starbuck put in, as he usually did.

"Let's not get into that again. Not now. He's what's holding the Fleet together, you can agree with that, can't you?"

Reluctantly, Starbuck nodded.

"Then he needs to be able to trust Tigh. He has to have someone, and Boomer's going to be suspect, and Theni's his baby girl..."

"Okay, you win. You want me to smile at him next time we pass in the hall?"

"Gods, no."

"Good."

"And speaking of Boomer—you never answered my question." That was just curiosity, he told himself.

"Which question?"

"Where were you all day?

"Well, after I couldn't find Boomer, I went looking for Cassie, took her for kava and pastry and broke the news—what?"

"Kava and pastry? I should have tried that."

"It never hurts," Starbuck observed.

"So if you show up with food, I should beware?"

Starbuck smiled enigmatically. "I'm not the predictable one... Of course, after last night, neither are you. Not that I mind. So, after Cassie finished psychoanalyzing me, I went back to the barracks and still didn't find Boomer, though I ran into Giles..."

The worm of jealousy raised its head, looked at Starbuck, tried to picture him with the hero-worshipping young ensign, failed utterly, and lay back down again. Apollo was a bit dismayed at how quickly it had reappeared when he dropped his guard against it. He was going to have to work at it. Keeping that piece of window-pane had been a good idea after all. Not entirely new, this reborn Apollo, he admitted.

Starbuck apparently hadn't noticed; his defenses seemed down for good. Scary. "He seemed genuinely unsurprised and offered to help me move. I let him carry the box cluttering up your service room."

"Our service room."

Starbuck flashed a quick smile. "Right. I'll get used to it. Eventually... Then I went looking for the other people I needed to tell. Of course, as the day wore on most of the people I ran into had already heard, so—"

"Most of them?" Apollo asked. He couldn't help it so he tried to keep it light. "Not that I want names—"

"Liar," Starbuck said, but fondly.

"—but how many are we talking about? Rounded to the nearest dozen?"

Starbuck raised himself on one elbow and regarded him seriously. "It's all over," he said gently. "You do know that, don't you?"

Apollo's heart stopped for a minute. When he finally comprehended Starbuck's question, he had the answer he needed in his own panic. "Yes. And I don't need to know anything else. Anything at all."

Starbuck reached for him and pulled him down again, resting Apollo's head on his heart. "To the nearest dozen, none. Five, counting Cassie, and two were mere courtesies after a couple of sectares of not seeing them. Darcy—" an ebony-skinned shuttle pilot Apollo was mildly acquainted with "—offered to help me remember the difference between men and women, but I told her I was pretty sure I had it down. And you'd already told Marta."

Marta. Lucky man. Marta, who lived around the corner, whose son was a yahren younger than Boxey, and who was now dating Jolly. Long platinum hair falling over Starbuck's arm. Flamboyant Marta. Honest Marta. Meaningless goodbye-and-good-luck kiss in finest theatrical fashion...

"I'm sorry," he said. "I'm so sorry."

"I know," though he couldn't possibly know for what. "I forgive you."

"You always do, don't you?" And sometime he'd tell him for what. But not now.

"Always... and it's a good thing, too, don't you think?" He ruffled Apollo's hair with the question.

"Yes. Yes, I do," he raised his head and looked into Starbuck's eyes and kissed him.

After Apollo settled his head back on Starbuck's chest, the blond said, "Okay, now for the tough problem of the day."

"Oh, gods, what could that be?"

"What do we tell Boxey—" He broke off as Apollo swore and grabbed his wrist to look at the time. "Now what?"

"Boxey. He'll be home in twenty centons. It's his friend's mother's turn to pick them up and bring them home." He scrambled out of the bed as he spoke. "And you get up, too. Spending the night is one thing, he can deal with that concept, but I'm not getting into sex in the afternoon, or any time for that matter, with him until he's much, much older..." He disappeared into the turbowash room then came back out. "Tell him about what?"

"Don't rush," Starbuck said, "my chrono's fast."

Apollo looked at his own and relaxed. "And why don't you get it fixed?"

Starbuck shrugged. "I know it's fast."

"That would drive me crazy."

"I know. You're chronologically-obsessed."

"At least I'm on time for things... which you're not, even with your chrono nearly twenty-five centons fast..." He shut the door on Starbuck's repeated,

"But I know it's fast..."

After Starbuck joined him in the service room, and turned down a sandwich ("I've been eating all day," he pointed out), Apollo repeated, "What do we tell Boxey about what?"

"Why I'm going back to the barracks tonight. We both said I'd be moving in."

"Oh. Frack. So we did."

"Well, we either say it's a new reg and take him down and show it to him if he looks worried, or we put the blame where it goes. That depends on whether you want him to be pissed off at your father or not, I guess." Starbuck ran his fingers through his damp hair. "If he would be."

"He would, I think. And I don't. But... I do."

"So do I. But I'm vindictive. Besides, we're going to have to explain the whole no-more-captain thing, too."

"That's simple. It's regs, and if we don't make a tragedy out of it, he'll accept it."

"Are you dodging my question?"

"No. We have to decide this together. And even then, it might be moot. I don't know if Father's even going to want Boxey."

"He'll want him," Starbuck predicted in dire tones. "He'll want to counteract my presence."

"Well, that's what I mean. We have to decide. I don't want Boxey listening to him talk about you being a pervert. But even if he promises to stay off that topic altogether, I don't know if we want Boxey over there."

"Do you? I mean, assuming he stays on neutral ground regarding us, it might be the thing that brings you two back together."

"He'll never accept you in my life."

"He might. But even if he doesn't, if he accepts you—"

"There is no me without you," Apollo said simply.

"He's your father." As simply.

"And you're my lifemate. Here," he opened the little box and pulled out the Tear. "Do you remember this?"

Starbuck took it and ran his thumb over its smooth surface. "I remember," he said softly. "You kept this? All this time?"

"Apparently," Apollo smiled at him.

Starbuck smiled back, a bit misty-eyed. "I remember. Naiacap. We wangled a six-day pass and went to your family's place there, though you complained it was the middle of winter and no one would be there, not even servants, and there'd be nothing to do."

"And you said you could do for yourself, and you wanted to see the ocean, and it was freezing—"

"It was the tropics. It was barely jacket weather!"

"—and I couldn't get you off the beach, even when that storm blew up you wanted to stay and watch—"

"It was the most incredible work of nature I'd ever seen."

"And it would have killed you. And after, we went back onto the beach and picked our way through all the litter and you found those Tears."

"I've still got mine, too," Starbuck admitted. He reached without looking into the larger box, putting his hand right on the other Tear to pull it out and hand it to Apollo.

After a moment, Apollo said, "At least that summer you found out what the weather was supposed to be like."

"It was nice. But I liked the winter better."

Apollo stared at him. Naiacap in winter was, all right, not bleak, but it was empty. Only the handful of villagers on the northern end, nothing to do except wander around on foot or equinus as all the sports complexes were locked up and it was too dangerous to swim in the wintry ocean. In the summer, Naiacap was a resort thronged with people, dancing and parties and sports, and warm ocean pools to swim in, and sailing... Starbuck had enjoyed himself immensely that summer, Apollo would have sworn. "Really? You did? Whyever?"

"Because it was just us."

"We weren't 'us' yet," Apollo said after a moment.

"We were always us, to me," Starbuck answered.

They sat in silence, looking at each other over the counter and the boxes, before Apollo managed to say, "We should put these out somewhere we can see them every day."

"Yes, we should."

"What else have you got in there?" Apollo asked, genuinely curious.

"Not a lot," Starbuck said, pulling the box over closer to himself. He laid down the Tear he was holding and pulled out several decks of pyramid cards. Setting them down in a neat stack, he then pulled out several more. Apollo snickered. Starbuck grinned at him and produced two small carved boxes.

"What are those?" Apollo asked, and then broke out laughing as the blond opened one to reveal a fancy deck, the kind where each card is different and a work of art—this one of pagan gods and goddesses and mythic beasts for the three suits. "You'd better not have one of those Gemonese decks," Apollo warned, still laughing.

"Why not, Dad?" Boxey had arrived unnoticed.

"You need to get your door noisier," observed Starbuck.

"Our door."

"Yeah, our door, Starbuck. I mean Pop. Why noisy?"

"So you can't sneak up on us, kiddo."

"Oh." Boxey was unoffended. "Do you have a Gemonese deck?"

"No," Starbuck dodged the whole what-is-it issue by adding, "I've never been to Gemoni."

It didn't work. "Cassie's from there. So's Sheba. Maybe they could give you one."

That was so loaded Apollo would have short-circuited trying to answer it. He could only watch in admiration as Starbuck shrugged and said, "Gemonese decks aren't any good for playing with. Did you learn anything useful today?"

"I don't think so. Dad, can you come on the field trip tomorrow?"

"What field trip?"

Boxey sighed, rolling his eyes. "To the hydroponics ship. You signed for me to go last secton."

"Oh. I remember," he lied.

"Anyway, Barkla's father was supposed to go but he can't and we need another grown-up and I said you'd come."

Torn between relief and disappointment Apollo said, "Well, I'm sorry, Boxey, but I can't."

"Why not? You're off duty," Boxey said, nearly whining. "We need someone or we can't go."

Once again Boxey was demonstrating how pointless it was to plan how to tell him something. "I'm not off duty," Apollo said. "And neither is Starbuck," he added as Boxey's eyes went that direction and his mouth opened. "You need to learn to ask me first."

"Why aren't you?" Boxey ignored the stricture. As he had the last sixty times he'd heard it.

"Because I have to fill in for a Green pilot tomorrow," Starbuck said.

"And I'm in Red Squadron now, and they were off yesterday and today."

"You're in Red? Not Blue anymore?"

"I can't be in Blue if Starbuck's in Blue," said Apollo. "It's against the rules for people who are married to have one of them in charge of the other one."

"Why?" Boxey obviously thought that was stupid.

"So people won't think your dad is giving me special treatment." Starbuck grinned at them both. "I'm looking forward to a CO who's fair and impartial."

"You mean one you can put things over on," Apollo said while Boxey giggled. "Boomer's got your number."

"But you're still his boss, aren't you, Dad?"

"I wish," Apollo said involuntarily. "He never listened to me before. But if you mean his CO, no. I'm Red Squadron Leader, not Strike Captain. Otherwise, we couldn't get married."

"That's a stupid rule."

"Tell you a secret, kid: most rules are."

"Starbuck!"

The blond slapped his chest. "Did I say you didn't have to follow them?"

Boxey ignored them, though Apollo knew the quote would surface some day. "That's not a secret anymore, Dad, but I didn't tell," he said virtuously. "Lots of kids' parents were talking about it."

"Really?"

"Uh-huh. They kept looking at me, but I didn't tell. Really."

"I know. Starbuck and I did, after I talked to your grandfather."

"Some of them said they thought you were going to marry Sheba. I'm glad you're not."

"Me, too."

"Me, three," added Starbuck.

Boxey giggled again, and then said, "If you're the squadron leader, can't you give yourself the day off?"

"It doesn't work like that. And I'd better call your instructor and tell her I can't come."

She accepted it with apparent regret, whether for losing him or having to find another victim he wasn't sure. At least she hadn't sounded like she had been trying to figure how to call him and tell him not to come. He sort of wished he were free, until he thought about being trapped on a shuttle with a dozen seven-yahren-olds. He wasn't that eager to make a point.

When he got back to the service room, Boxey had convinced Starbuck to give him something to eat. Apollo bit back the urge to say the child would spoil his dinner; it was a piece of fruit and anyway, they could eat later. Instead he stood in the doorway and looked at them, tawny head and dark one bent together over one of the Tears as Starbuck pointed out the little node that marked the original starting point.

Boxey looked up after a centon. "Dad, I never saw this before. Where did it come from?"

"Naiacap," he said, coming back into the room and sitting down.

"Where's that?"

"It's an island on Caprica," Apollo said, feeling a surge of nostalgia.

"Your dad's family had a summer place there," Starbuck said.

"You only went there in the summer?"

"Yes—when school was out. It was for vacations. Your grandmother, your aunt, your Uncle Zac, and I went there every summer when we were children."

"What about Grandfather?"

"He came when he could, but he was a high-ranking officer and he couldn't always get to Caprica every yahren," Apollo said. "Back then the Fleet was much bigger and he was very far away sometimes."

"That's too bad," said Boxey.

"Ummm," said Apollo.

And Starbuck said, "I've got a picture of Naiacap in here somewhere." He pulled out two framed pictures and set them down on the counter as he reached back into the box.

The top one was of him, Apollo, and Boomer at Caprica Military Academy, in dress grays. Boxey had seen it before and he ignored it in favor of the second. "What's this?"

Starbuck didn't glance at it, just answered, "The Thorn Forest."

"Where's that?"

Apollo reached over and turned the picture so he could see it. A dark, even gloomy picture—tall trees girdled with spiky vines, a few blue flowers, long leaves, a pervasive feeling of things closed in, dim light. Apollo felt a shiver run his spine.

"Near Umbra. Where I grew up," he added for Boxey's benefit.

"Did you play there?" he asked a bit dubiously. Apollo didn't blame him.

"When I could," Starbuck said. "Now, here's Naiacap."

"Who's that with you?"

"That's your grandmother," said Starbuck, surprised. "You've seen pictures of her before, haven't you?"

"That's not her... is it?"

Apollo turned this picture around, too. It was Ila, though after a moment he realized what was puzzling Boxey. The other pictures he'd seen of her were all posed portraits. This was a candid, and a very good likeness of her in one of her light-hearted moods, but she might have been a different woman from the poised Siress.

Apollo had never seen the picture before. He stared at it, paying little attention to the conversation. Boxey was asking about the surf in the background—it was the eastern shore—and the flowers and why the sand was black and was that a live avian, and Starbuck was answering, but Apollo was looking at the people in the foreground and wallowing in emotions.

He didn't know when the picture had been taken—Starbuck looked much older than he'd been the summer he'd spent with them. He was sunbrowned and barelegged, his tawny hair streaked with gold and wind-tangled, a jewel-feathered macawan on his left wrist, its crest raised. Ila stood next to him, his arm around her slender shoulders as she offered the avian a piece of fruit. The wind was lifting her dark blonde hair with its glints of summer gold, and she was wearing a bright floral-printed skirt to her knees, her arms and midriff bare, earrings that rivaled the macawan's plumes dangling to her shoulders. She looked so happy she was glowing, and so did Starbuck.

Apollo remembered her like that, but he didn't think he'd ever seen a picture of Siress Ila looking quite so undignified. Certainly his father hadn't been around when it was taken... she'd never looked like that when he was on the island. Apollo remembered summers when his father had been able to join them. As a teenager he'd been sure his mother hadn't meant it, though now he thought maybe she had, but either way they had all looked forward to Adama's last morning, when they would all line up outside the house by the landing pad, dressed in spotless summer white. Adama would pat Zac on the head and tell him to be a good boy; kiss Athena's cheek and admonish her to behave like a lady; and shake Apollo's hand and leave him with more detailed instructions, varying slightly as the yahrens went by—improve your range scores; work on your math... Then he'd kiss Ila as he had Athena and get into his aircar and his driver would lift off into Naiacap's azure sky. They would watch him out of sight, and then Ila would turn, clap her hands once, and say, "All right, children: get dressed! We're for the beach!"

And she didn't mean their private stretch of the southern coast with its white sands and emerald water, either, but the black sands of the public beach with its booths and games and crowds of tourists and day-trippers from the cruise ships. That's when she'd looked like that, romping through Naiacap's playground with her children.

"Who took this?" he asked when Boxey ran out of questions.

Starbuck shrugged. "Some child," he said. "The avian was his; it damn—dang near took off her finger about twenty microns later."

"It bit Grandmother?" Boxey's eyes went wide.

"It tried. I dropped it and it scratched the... heck out of my arm, too, I can tell you."

"How do you drop an avian?" Apollo laughed.

"Its wing was clipped."

"What does that mean?" asked Boxey.

"You cut the feathers," said Starbuck, "and it can't fly till new ones grow in."

"Does it hurt?"

"No. It's like fingernails. Or hair."

"Oh, good."

"When was this?" Apollo asked.

"She never told you about it?"

Apollo shook his head.

Starbuck shrugged. "You were on the Acky-D. I was on the Falca. It was right after Semtek. We put into the Caprican shipyards, they turfed us all out and made us take leave, and first thing I knew Ila was there, throwing her weight around and dragging me off to Naiacap for the whole two sectares. It was just us—it was spring and Zac was at that military prep school and I don't remember where Athena was. Cap City Base, probably. Ila opened the house. I had fun."

Apollo remembered Semtek. The Falca had been lucky to survive, and more than half of her Viper pilots hadn't. But he and Starbuck hadn't been in real contact then. They'd ended scrapping the Falca and Starbuck had gone to the Galactica, and then Apollo had come two yahrens later...

"She looks like a nice lady." Boxey employed his all-purpose approbative adjective.

"She was the nicest person I've ever known," Starbuck said. His blue eyes were on Apollo, slightly tentative.

Apollo understood that. Ila had adored him the first time Apollo had brought him to the Caprica City townhouse, and Starbuck had returned the feeling, and now he was worried that she might have felt like Adama did. He was worried that he was somehow betraying her, that he shouldn't keep the picture. Or the memory. "She loved your Pop more than she did me," he said, ostensibly to Boxey. "They were kindred spirits. She'd be so happy to see him and me together."

"Can we put this up in the front room?" Boxey asked.

"Yes, we can."

"And this one?" he held up the Thorn Forest.

"If we can find a place," he temporized; that picture got on his nerves. He didn't know why Starbuck kept it.

"What else is in here?" asked Boxey.

"Just some books," Starbuck said.

"Let's put them on the shelf," said Boxey, "and find a place for the picture. Can I put this one in my room?" He picked up the one of the Three Pleiades, as they'd been called.

"Sure," Starbuck said.

"Thanks, Pop!" He hugged Starbuck and ran into his room with the picture.

Apollo picked up the one of Ila and Starbuck. "I love this picture," he said sincerely. "You know if my father ever sets foot in our quarters and sees this, he'll have a stroke."

Starbuck peered at him and then, reassured, said, "She had a lot of fun, I think. And she sure flanked me. I'd never have gone if she'd just called."

"She knew that. She really was crazy about you..."

"I loved her," Starbuck said simply.

Apollo smiled at him. "Let's get those books out before Boxey decides to help and breaks all their spines. Who'd have figured you to actually own any?"

Starbuck feinted a punch at him and picked up the box. Together they slotted his books, mostly military history and tactics but the occasional novel, too, among Apollo's more substantial library. Then Apollo left Boxey and Starbuck to decide where to put the picture while he started dinner. And tried to figure how to tell Boxey that Starbuck wouldn't be moving in until after they married. That all of Starbuck's belongings were here should help. Maybe Starbuck would think of something. Coward, he thought, and then, damn straight.