Dancing Lessons from God

Starbuck went directly to Apollo's quarters after his shift ended. Boomer had spent about ten centons talking to him, after talking to Giles, who'd finally calmed down enough that the news he'd been given a reprimand for trying to deck Sheba had only made him say, "Wish I'd connected; it would be worth the pay cut."

"I don't think that's the lesson you're supposed to carry away from this," Starbuck told him.

The shorter man had shrugged again. "Never did learn what I was supposed to."

Privately Starbuck wished Giles had connected, too, though for the ensign's sake he was glad he hadn't. Boomer had told Starbuck to keep a better eye on his wingman, Starbuck had rejoined that if Boomer hadn't dragged him to the stupid morning meeting he'd have been there, and Boomer had told him to go home.

So Starbuck had lost no time doing exactly that. He caught himself thinking the phrase 'Apollo's quarters' and corrected it to 'our quarters', but it wasn't a habit yet. He knew it might not be one for a time yet. He'd spent a dozen yahrens waiting for Apollo to come round to knowing where his best interests lay, and every yahren that passed had made it harder to believe he ever would. Especially after he married. That had pretty much nailed the coffin shut on it, and Starbuck had even toyed with the notion of marrying himself.

But then it had happened. Apollo had asked him the right question, and he'd meant it, and Starbuck had stopped fighting it and fallen, Apollo's gravity well yanking him into orbit around the other man with the inevitability of natural law. His mind hadn't quite caught up to it yet, but the rest of him knew he was where he belonged. The words would get to be first nature soon enough. He'd only have to try hard to remember when he was around Boxey.

He shook his head as he got off the turbolift. That surprised him, how concerned he'd been the past few days about Boxey, for his own sake. Not like the time Apollo had been missing, when taking care of Boxey had been a sublimation, something Athena had let him do because she knew he'd go mad otherwise. This was worry about Boxey, not his father. This was, he guessed, parenting.

He'd have to make sure Lalage and Phyllia knew they weren't going to be needed now, and that he really appreciated that they'd volunteered. And he should thank Bojay, too, for Giles as well as Boxey. That had to have been expected, what Sheba had thrown at him... that bitch. Thank all the gods that Apollo hadn't made the mistake of Sealing with her. He'd meant to speak to Bojay that morning, but the meeting had gotten in the way, and then before he'd gotten to it, she'd shown up. And afterward he and Giles had spent nearly six centares flying picket. He'd spent much of that time listening to his wingman bitch, and though he'd agreed with every single word Giles had said he'd felt compelled to take him task at least a little. Apollo must be rubbing off on me, he thought ruefully.

Then when Boomer had told him, unnecessarily, to watch his step because Adama was pissed off and added that Blue once again got ten centares out of barracks, Starbuck hadn't waited to find Bojay—he'd see the man again in the next day or so, after all, and maybe sooner than later if the gossip was right.

That brought him up short. Somebody should probably tell Athena what Sheba had said. And he couldn't think of another 'somebody' besides himself. Frack. Of course, it might not be true. You could certainly take one woman to dinner and end up spending the night with another one altogether. And Bojay hadn't confirmed it, though he hadn't denied it, either. Still... he sighed. He'd play it by ear when he saw Athena. He grinned. He could pump Boxey.

He keyed himself in and staggered under the impact of a small body hurling itself across the kava table.

"Pop! Pop! You're home!"

He hugged Boxey and ruffled his hair. "Hey, kiddo. Been behaving yourself for your aunt?"

"Yes," Boxey said. "Are you supposed to be here?"

"Yes," Athena echoed from her seat on the floor. "Are you?"

He swung Boxey back over the table to his side of the game. "We're back to almost normal," he said. "I'm free till midnight."

"Really?" Boxey asked.

"Really." Starbuck pulled off his jacket and unbuckled his holster, putting the latter on top of the wall unit and dropping the former on the arm of the couch. "And everybody else is back all the way to normal, well, confined to the Galactica but otherwise free. The other squadrons," he added, interpreting the glint in Athena's eyes. "All of Blue is on sub-two, not just me." He headed into the service room for an ale. "Want anything, 'Theni?"

"No, thank you," she said.

He took a good look at her when he came out and sat on the couch. She wasn't giving anything away. He supposed he'd have to ask her straight out.

Boxey had abandoned the game to climb up on the couch and snuggle up next to him. "Is Grandfather sorry?" he asked. "Is he not mad anymore?"

"Well, I saw him this morning and he didn't bite my head off," Starbuck said. "Things are better. Why? Did you miss me?"

"Yes," Boxey said. "I was going to call you later. Bojay said it would be okay."

"He was right; it would have been."

Athena swept the game pieces into their box. "So, you need me back here by half past eleven?"

He looked up from Boxey. "Yes, please," he said. "And all day tomorrow, again. Temple in the morning—"

"I'm not going," Boxey announced.

Starbuck got very still. Oh, frack, that will just tick Adama off worse. Plus, I don't know how Apollo feels about it. "Why not?" he said carefully.

"I'm going to be a heathen, like you and Bojay," Boxey said. "If the Church hates you and Dad, I hate them. And I'm not going."

"Bojay?" he said, distracted.

Athena put in, "Bojay is a Diwest. But he didn't bring this up to Boxey; it's his own idea."

"Yes," Boxey affirmed. "I'm not going."

"Look, Boxey, that's a really big decision. You need to talk to your dad about it before you make up your mind."

"Do you think Dad will still go, even though they hate him?"

"I don't know," Starbuck said honestly. "I am a heathen. I never understood the Church. But your dad's always been a believer, and the Lords of Light did save his life. I just don't know; that's why you have to talk to him."

"That didn't make you go."

Starbuck sighed. How to condense his sectares-long struggle with his disbelief into something a seven-yahren-old could comprehend? He dodged the question. "They let him get killed in the first place," he said. "And I never understood any of it. The point is, Boxey, you really have to talk to your dad. This is too big a decision for you to make on your own without doing that first."

"I don't want to go."

Gods. He did not want to get into a fight over this; not today. Not when his own heart wasn't in it; not when he didn't know what Apollo thought any more. "Okay, let's try compromise. I can get someone to come in for a couple of centares tomorrow and you can miss one day without it being a decision. When would they need to come, 'Theni?"

"Oh, don't worry about that," she said. "I can go to evening service. Might be better all the way around, anyway."

"Okay." He appreciated that, for Boxey's sake. "How's that, Boxey?"

"I don't have to go tomorrow?"

"No. But you have to talk to your dad before you two decide if it's permanent or not."

Boxey sighed and nodded. "Okay, Pop." He looked across the table. "Aunt 'Theni, why are you going when you don't hate Dad and Pop?"

"Because I'm not ready to quit the Church yet, Boxey," she said. "Not everyone there hates your fathers."

"Yet," Boxey said, smiling.

"Yes, imp," she said. "Not yet. And don't you go thinking you know more than you do."

He giggled.

"I'll be back, Starbuck," she said. "And this time I promise not to be so late."

"You were late?"

She grimaced. "I let Cassie drag me over to the Star and we missed that shuttle and then, well," she glanced at Boxey, "I needed to stop at her place. Poor Bojay had fallen asleep on the couch and I rather unceremoniously woke him up." She stood up. "I have some things I can take care of while you two bond. Will you be all right for dinner?"

Starbuck disengaged himself from Boxey. "We'll be fine. You just come by tonight so I'm not late. But I'll walk out with you; there's something I need to tell you." He didn't know whether she'd care that Sheba and Bojay had had such a vicious fight, but she did need to know that Sheba had accused Bojay of using her. Whether he told her anything else would depend on her reaction to that first bit of news. Though 'poor Bojay' sounded promising...

She raised one eyebrow over a pale blue gaze but said only, "Sure."

"Be right back, Boxey," Starbuck said. He followed her out into the hall.

"What is it?" she asked. "More idiocy from Father?"

"I almost wish," he said. "No, it's Sheba."

"Oh." Her voice was cold. "What does she want? Or is it what did she do? Claim Apollo did ask her to Seal with him?"

"At the moment, she's talking like she wouldn't have him giftwrapped on a silver platter. She probably would, but that's beside the point." He sighed. "No. She got worked up and came into the ready room and said some stuff."

"Some stuff? Starbuck, I'm not seven. I can take it. What 'stuff'?"

He shrugged. "She asked if all Capricans were rampantly immoral or just the Galactica's officers. Then," he brushed aside her attacks on him and Giles, "she said to Bojay, and I quote, 'I heard about you crawling in after your night sucking up to the Commander's daughter—eye to the main chance, that's always been you.'"

"Bitch," said Athena. "And how did she hear that?" She didn't sound particularly perturbed at the idea, or news, being out there, only at Sheba's phrasing. Though Starbuck wasn't sure that 'only' was the appropriate adverb.

Still, no reason to cause needless problems. "Not from him," he said quickly. "But you were in the O Club yesterday, and he didn't get back until this morning, so people kind of put two and two together."

"Is that it?" She didn't sound like she thought it was.

"No... Bojay asked about her and Apollo, and she said something about Cain being a Commander, too, unlike Bojay's father. I don't know what she meant, but what she said was, quoting again, 'if Athena knew what she'd gotten involved with, she'd dump you faster than she did Starbuck.' And that he needed to be slapped down... like his father, I think, though it was one of those fights where they knew what they meant so they didn't have to say it." He wasn't sure what the 'treacherous bastard' crack had meant, if it was for Bojay or his father. He thought for Bojay, so he left it out.

"Bitch," Athena said again.

Starbuck very nearly took a step back. He'd never seen her so angry. She could fly into a high rage that was like when Ila had lost her temper, but this was a cold fury. Icy, like Apollo only much, much colder. Like Adama. She wasn't angry at him, but he was actually afraid of her anyway.

"Thank you, Starbuck," she said, ice crystals almost forming in the air. "I'll be back tonight."

He watched her stride off and was almost—just almost—sorry for Sheba.

Then he went back inside, thinking to himself that the gossip had pretty much been right. And if he felt almost sorry for Sheba, he definitely felt happy for Bojay and 'Theni.

Athena strode down the hallway, her long green skirt billowing around her ankles. She couldn't remember being this angry. Even when Zac had died, when the Colonies had died, the anger hadn't been like this; blended with sorrow and despair it had been hot and fierce, and spread out over such a huge recipient, it had been, as anger, short-lived. This was cold. This wouldn't go away.

This was personal.

She'd have said it was 'the straw that broke the camelon's back', except that it wasn't a straw. It was more like a two-ton I-beam. But her patience had certainly suffered a broken spine—it was dead, poor thing; no hope of reviving it. And it felt very good to have a target for the rage that had been building up in her all day, even if part of that didn't truly belong to Sheba.

She didn't even want to discuss that part with her father. She truly hoped she was wrong about what she thought he was thinking, going on Boxey's unnuanced report, but she didn't think she was. She'd felt like snarling when she'd heard about it. How could he think that? Even if he'd decided that Starbuck was so totally devoid of basic morality that he'd think sleeping with his best friend's mother was acceptable behavior, or that sleeping with the closest thing he'd ever known to his own mother was—which, she thought, it went without saying that he wasn't—she hated what that assumption would mean Adama thought about Ila.

She didn't want to think about her mother having ever been unfaithful to her father. She'd accepted that their marriage wasn't very passionate, that Ila was more accepting of Adama's long absences than Athena herself would ever have been, but that didn't mean she wanted to think that either of them had cheated on each other. If Adama wanted to marry again, Bellaby or Tinia or someone, that was different. But this, this assumption made her blood boil.

Though, she had to admit, that was mostly because it was Starbuck Adama was casting in the other role. That and because it made a liar out of Ila... and a falsehood out of Athena's childhood.

But that was only a small part of Athena's anger, easily subsumed in the rest of it. Though Sheba might be a convenient scapegoat, she had earned a the lionet's share. And she was sure that there was more out there, too... she knew Starbuck far too well to think he'd told her everything there was to be told. Not that he'd shown any tells, but the very absence of them was a tell in itself; he'd been too careful. But there were others out there who couldn't hide. She just had to find one.

"Jolly," she said, advancing on the chunky, mustached pilot at the gaming table in the ready room.

He took one look at her and obviously wished he was someplace else. "Uh, hi, Athena," he said. "Starbuck's not here."

"I know where Starbuck is," she said.

"Boomer—" he tried.

She cut him off. "I want to talk to you. Walk with me."

"Athena," he said, and then gave up. "Hell, I'm losing anyway." He tossed down his cards and stood up.

Once they were in the hall she faced him and ordered, "Tell me what Sheba said this morning. Everything."

"Athena," he said miserably.

She took pity on him. "For your information, Bojay spent the night with me and I don't care who knows." And she didn't; after all, when she'd asked him to stay, and then kept him late that morning, knowing he'd probably get back into the barracks just in time, she'd known it wouldn't take those gossipy fighter pilots any time at all to start coupling their names. After all, they'd seen enough of them at the O Club. She wasn't in the habit of going to bed with someone that quickly, but... No. She really didn't care if the whole battlestar had them paired. "It's the rest of what she said I want to hear."

Jolly grinned a little and said, "Well, congratulations, then. Okay, I'll tell you." And did.

He seemed a little confused by her lack of reaction. She was a little confused by it herself. She'd have expected herself to be angered by the implication that Starbuck was cheating on Apollo with Giles, or that Starbuck had been trying to advance himself by dating her, or that she'd dumped him when she'd found out. But she seemed to be so angry already that she couldn't feel any more... red zone was red zone, she supposed. All she said was, "Did Giles get into trouble?"

Jolly's eyes faltered under her gaze. "I shouldn't tell you," he said. "It's squadron business."

"You just did," she nodded. "Thanks, Jolly. Go back to your game."

"Athena—"

"Thank you, Jolly," she repeated and walked away.

It took her almost two centares to find Sheba. She checked every place on the battlestar she could think of where the Viper pilot might be, and then went back to several. Finally, on her third visit to the O Club's bar, she spotted her.

The brown-haired pilot was sitting with some of her Pegasus cronies. Athena couldn't hear what they were talking about, but Sheba threw her head back and laughed, and then leaned forward to say something, her face alive with malicious amusement.

Athena walked up to the table. "Sheba?"

The pilot turned around. Before she could register any reaction beyond startlement, Athena slapped her so hard she almost fell out of her chair. The others at the table froze, staring.

"For your information," Athena said icily, "I called it off with Starbuck because we didn't love each other. I don't think being married to a man who's in love with someone else is such a good idea. Nor do I think marrying a man because of who his father is, or isn't, is particularly intelligent even if he isn't in love with someone else. I grant you, if you're incapable of love it probably makes as much sense as anything. But if Starbuck had loved me I wouldn't have let his parentage stand in my way any more than I'll let Bojay's, if it comes up."

Sheba was rubbing her jaw, but at that she snarled, "You don't know about Bojay's father."

"Don't I?" Athena let that lie in the air between them.

Brown eyes locked with blue and then dropped. "I wouldn't have thought he had the guts to tell you."

"That statement is entirely typical of you." Athena packed as much contempt into that as she could.

"What do you mean?"

"You're spiteful, that's what I mean." The other woman glared but didn't say anything. Athena continued, "You're spiteful and mean and vicious. More—you're a backbiter. And worst, you're a coward."

"How dare you?" Sheba hissed, but she didn't stand up.

"You're a coward," Athena repeated clearly, pitching her voice to be heard several tables away, "the kind of coward that baits a tethered beast and then laughs when it hits the end of its chain. You're despicable. You insult a man when he's not there in front of his young child. You hit and run. You incite those you outrank and then you report them, but you slap my brother knowing he won't do anything about it. Well, I'm a lieutenant, and I'm a woman, and I'm not anywhere in your chain of command, so I'm telling you, I won't put up with it. On my own account, or anyone else's. I'm serving you notice: if you ever, ever, again pull that kind of felgarcarb with my brother, or his husband, or their son, or their friends, or my friends, I will come after you and I will take you down. And I'm ready right now: you want to take me on, let's do it. Come on, Sheba. You wanted someone to hit you? I hit you. You want to slap me? I'll slap you right back. Come on. You want to say something cruel and hateful about Apollo, or Starbuck, or Bojay? Come on, say it. Say it to someone who can treat it—and you—like you deserve. Come on. What's the matter—felix got your tongue?"

"You know the captain put me on notice," Sheba said finally.

"Is that the problem?" Athena asked. "Well, we can get around that. Let's go to the gym, have a little workout. A little unarmed combat, one on one, me and you. I'm ready."

"I'm not going to fight with you," Sheba said.

Athena stared at her. "No. Of course you're not," she said, contemptuously. "It's not your style, is it, taking on someone who can fight back? You cowardly little... person. You just remember what I said. Ever." She stared at her, feeling the urge to knock her out of her chair, send her sprawling onto the floor. She resisted it and turned to walk away.

"Slut," Sheba muttered.

Athena turned around. "Did you say something?"

Sheba stared at the table.

"I thought not," Athena said, and left. She decided to go and work out anyway; she needed to cool off—no, warm up—before she saw Starbuck again. Or Boxey. Or Bojay.

Especially Bojay.

Starbuck leaned his chair back, balancing on the rear legs, and watched Boxey, Dhani, and the other boy, what was his name, Marco?, wrestling for the ball. He was getting too bored for his own good; his mind had just offered him the image of himself and Apollo engaged in that activity, and then turned it into an image entirely unsuited for seven-yahren-olds. For a moment he let it be; he could feel Apollo bearing him down onto the mat, onto his knees and elbows, feel him stripping off workout clothes... Now he shook his head again, staring at the ceiling and forcing his mind into something else... Starhound Viper, speed: Space: 73.5 mn/mi² (110.25 mn/mi² at turbo, -55.125 breaking), Atmosphere: 1,851 mpc (3,331 mpc at turbo, -1,589 mpc breaking); power: 1 Tylium reactor (1,443 trillion julons), 2 high-energy fusion reactors (584 trillion julons)... That was better.

That was more suitable to time and place, anyway. He'd wait till he got Boxey in bed and then take a nice, long, hot turbowash and indulge his fantasies. Fatherhood was going to be harder than he'd thought. Though, if Apollo were around, he'd probably be finding it easier to keep the fantasies under control. He sighed. Fidelity was harder than he'd thought...

But when Apollo got back, it would be rewarding.

At least, it damned well better be.

He dropped the chair back onto all fours and looked over at the boys. He'd been somewhat surprised that Dhani's parents had let him come; probably the public venue of the recreation center had swayed them. Plus the benefit of having the boy out of quarters, of course. He knew all about that, already... He loved Boxey more than he'd believed, but there were times he was definitely in the way.

Unless you want to spend all afternoon reciting Viper specs, stop thinking about that.

He turned his mind to what Adama was going to say in the morning when Boxey and Athena didn't show up for Temple. That was certainly enough to cool off his ardor. He sighed. Adama was going to blame him. Well, he supposed that made sense. If he weren't around, Boxey wouldn't have found out that Adama was a narrow-minded and vindictive bigot. And Apollo probably would have married Sheba. Somehow, Starbuck couldn't find it in himself to wish things had played out that way.

Sheba... He wondered what Athena had said to her. Bounced her off a wall a few times, he hoped. Athena and Bojay... Interesting concept.

He'd said something about schoolwork to Boxey, that maybe he could do that tomorrow instead of Temple, and Boxey had produced it, all already finished. "Bojay helped with the verbs," he'd said. "He spells a lot of them with Ts instead of EDs. I looked in the computer and it says that's 'regional'. What does that mean? Are they right?"

"They're right," Starbuck had said, glancing at dreamt and spilt... "Most people use ED, but T's okay. Like 'felt', or 'slept'. Bojay helped you with your schoolwork?" He'd been startled when the instructor had called him to see if it was all right to turn Boxey over to the other pilot, but he'd agreed readily enough. This was a bit more hands-on than he'd anticipated.

"Yep," Boxey had answered. "I like him. Is he gonna marry Aunt 'Theni?"

"Ask her," Starbuck had dodged that.

"Dad says you shouldn't ask people that."

"Then don't." But he couldn't resist adding, "But how does he find things out?"

Boxey had giggled and then brought up the trip to the recreation center. And Starbuck was able to sit on the sidelines and watch the boy work off his excess energy without exhausting himself. A big dinner out, two centares of vid, and then Boxey would be in bed.

And Starbuck could stop remembering Viper specs...

Boring. Incredibly boring.

Cruising through atmosphere at fifteen hundred metrics a centare, Apollo looked all the way to the horizon and sighed.

Up on the Galactica it was ticking over to Firstday, a new secton. At least it was halfway over. Maybe more, if the techs kept working at their current pace. But it was just so excruciatingly boring...

Apollo banked his Viper through a cloud bank and wondered, Is Starbuck starting to rub off on me? There had certainly been a time, and not all that long ago, when he'd have found this mission not only interesting, but satisfying. He'd never been an adrenaline junkie, needing excitement, something happening every dozen centons. But the undeniable fact was, he'd never been so bored in all his life.

"Sir?" Wotan's voice pushed through the cotton surrounding his mind. "Want to check out those mountains?"

The boy sounded like he was having fun, anyway. Apollo sighed soundlessly, a technique he'd perfected after yahrens of flying with Starbuck, and answered, "Right. Let's go."

"Yes, sir!"

That was part of the problem, of course. Oh, be honest with yourself, Apollo. It is the problem. Wotan's voice in his headset instead of Starbuck's. God, he hoped that this was just a symptom of being betrothed. Or separated. He was going to be rather useless if he spent all his time wishing for Starbuck. Get a grip, he chided himself; it's not like this is the first time you've been separated, or even the longest, by a hell of a lot. Like yahrens.

But it was the first time since Starbuck had agreed to marry him. Suddenly he found himself wondering if Starbuck had felt anything like this all those times before. If that so-easily granted acceptance of Serina, of being shut out of Apollo's life because of his wedding vows, had been bought at this kind of hurting hunger. If any of Starbuck's women, even Cassie, had ever stopped the need that Starbuck showed when he held onto Apollo even in his sleep...

Oh, God. Starbuck, sweetheart, I'll spend the rest of my life making that up to you. I promise... I'm so sorry— He had to laugh, remembering Starbuck's reaction to his last apology: "I know. I forgive you." "You always do, don't you?" "Always... and it's a good thing, too, don't you think?" God, yes, it was a good thing, considering how often he needed it. He snorted with laughter again, involuntarily; his 'last' apology, his eye. His latest, more like.

"Sir?"

Apollo forced his mind back onto his business. "Just a stray thought, Wotan," he said. "Why don't you drop down to the floor, follow that river on up? And try not to hit the canyon walls as you go."

"Yes, sir," the ensign said. "I'll restrain myself from finding out what would happen if I did."

"Insatiable curiosity," murmured Apollo.

"Killed the felix, I know, sir," the boy said as he tilted a wing and dropped like a stone toward the river valley below.

Apollo grinned and followed him down. It was still boring, but if he put his mind to it, maybe he could have a little bit of fun.

Even if Starbuck wasn't here.

Bojay had gotten off duty at ten. He'd stayed late, working on the efficiency reports he had due. Then he'd stared at the wall chrono for a few centons, and pulled out the reports he had due next quarter. But now he'd done all he could on those and there wasn't any excuse for him to still be here. Tase, Yellow Leader, was already looking at him oddly, and Seth, Purple Leader, had put his head into the office three times already. He probably wanted his desk.

Bojay wasn't fooling himself about why neither of the other lieutenants had spoken to him beyond a simple greeting. Sure, they hadn't been there that morning when Sheba had come in, but they would without doubt have heard every word repeated at least three times before they had come on duty. He suddenly realized he'd stayed too long. It was after midnight; like an idiot, he'd let Blue get into the barracks. Cach. There was no way he was going to stick around to talk to them.

Especially not to Starbuck.

He dropped his reports into his drawer and, with a quiet 'Have a good shift' to Tase, he went out into the barracks and walked quickly to his room. He changed clothes quickly, leaving his uniform on his bed, and left the barracks, trying to look like he was late for something.

Not that he had anywhere to go now. This morning, waking up in Athena's bed—well, Apollo's bed, but Athena's arms—and Athena's kisses making it impossible to leave, he'd felt more at home than he had in twenty yahrens. Her hands and mouth, her sweet strong body, her desire for him... he'd barely made it to the barracks by eight, and it was a good thing he hadn't been going on duty then. She'd asked him, and he'd promised her, to come back tonight. But that was before... And now there was nowhere.

Inevitably he ended up at the O Club. Inevitably.

He looked at the bar through the pane in the door and then went inside. Buying a bottle, he found a table in a far corner and sat. He poured himself a drink and set the glass in front of him. Staring at the amber liquid, he remembered...

The smell of ambrosa on his father's breath, permeating the house; he'd grown up with it, thought it was normal. Cooking and making sure Dad ate. Playing with his dagget and Dad in the yard. Dad's pride at his grades. Cuddling on the couch, slurred words telling old stories, shaking hands tucking him in. Finding his father passed out on the couch, turning off the vid and covering him with blankets. Getting him up in the morning, off to work when he had a job. Dad showing up at the care facility, painfully sober, taking him home. New job. Back to normal. Lost job. A Welfare worker's surprise inspection, and once again he was gone. The cycle repeating, until they gave up on his father. Crying in the dark. Blows and a ringing ear. Hurtful words and judgments. "You'll end up like your father." "Worthless drunk." "Shut up, charity boy." And the smell of ambrosa, the smell of home...

He was still staring at his glass when a shadow fell over the table. He didn't look up; whoever it was, he wanted them to leave.

"Mind if I sit down?"

He looked up, and blinked. It was Athena. "No. No, of course not," he said.

She pulled out the chair on the side of the table, not across from him, and sat down. "I was expecting you," she said mildly. "I thought you said you were coming when you got off."

"I did," he admitted. "I didn't think you'd want me to."

"I did," she said. "I do."

He thought about that for a few centons; she sat there and let him, not speaking. "You must," he started, and then paused. "What about Boxey?"

"I called a friend," she said, "called in a favor. Don't worry about him; with any luck he'll never even know I left."

He nodded. "He's a nice kid."

"He likes you," she said. After a centon, she said, "I must what?"

"Not have run into Sheba. Or anybody..."

"I did, though," she said. "I gave her a piece of my mind; several, in fact."

There was silence for a another centon, and then she said, "You know, it's nice. My brother would have said I didn't have any to spare."

"I never felt less like somebody's brother in my life," he said honestly if impulsively.

"Good," she said, putting her hand on his briefly. Then, "Mind if I have a drink?"

"No," he said. She started to signal for a waiter to bring her a glass, but Bojay pushed the one before him over in front of her. "Here. I haven't touched it."

She took a sip, eying him, but didn't say anything about that. What she did say was, "I know my brother's a bit much. So's my father."

"Your father..." he'd started that incredulous, but it turned more or less comprehending. He laughed a little. "I suppose this past secton hasn't been his finest at that."

"Not quite," she said dryly, taking another sip. "Why don't we agree to ignore each other's fathers altogether? I admit it's easier for me, but..." she put her hand back on his, "I really want to keep seeing you. I never felt like this about anyone before. Truly."

"Sheba told you about mine?" he asked disbelievingly.

"Well, actually, no," she said. "But even if he's Baltar, you're a Colonial Warrior."

"He wasn't Baltar," Bojay said, pulling his hand away from hers. "He wasn't that successful."

She raised a slender black eyebrow. "He did a good job with you."

He shrugged. "Depends..." He picked up the bottle and looked at it, tilting it and watching the light play on the liquid inside it. "Is this any good? I mean, do you want it? I'm not going to drink it."

"I'll give it to Starbuck as a wedding present," she said. "Apollo never has ambrosa in his quarters."

He put the bottle down in front of her without telling her what Boxey had said.

"Do you mind if I ask you," she said, "why you bought a bottle if you weren't going to drink it?"

"I was," he said. "I fully intended to drink every drop. My father made it look so easy."

She finished her drink and picked up the bottle. "If you're just going to sit and think," she said, "come back with me and do it at my brother's."

"I should tell you about my father," he said, not wanting to in the least.

"Tell me about him there," she said, "if you have to. Or don't. But come back with me. I promised my friend I wouldn't be very long. Neither of us has anywhere to be in the morning. We can stay up and talk." She reached over and took his hand. "Or not... But come back with me, Bojay. I want you to."

He hesitated.

"Come back," she repeated. "I'll brew up some kava and we can talk, if you want to. I need to get back, and I don't want you to stay here, thinking, by yourself. In my experience, that's a very dangerous occupation for Viper pilots."

That made him laugh. He stood up, pulling her chair out. "If you insist," he said.

"I do," she said. Then she smiled, like moonrise in a dark night. "I'm so glad."

His breath caught. Goddess, he thought. Thank You. Athena reached for his hand and he gave it to her and followed her out.

Bojay woke up. Athena was sleeping soundly beside him, all that fire banked and still, her long dark hair spilled out on the pillow and her hands holding only shadows. It took him a centon or two to identify the sound that had awakened him, and another to realize where it was coming from: sobs over the open monitor from Boxey's room.

Probably he should wake Athena, but he was awake already. If the boy wanted her, he could get her, but he'd try his own hand first. Maybe he could pay her back a little.

He slid out of bed and found his trousers. Trying to remember where the low kava table was, so he didn't bark his shins on it, he padded through the dark front room and opened Boxey's door.

The sobs were louder, but muffled. Bojay crossed over to the bed, making out Boxey's dark hair against the lighter pillow. He knelt beside the bed, putting his hand on Boxey's shoulder, feeling the shudders shaking the small body. "Hey," he asked quietly, feeling that it was inadequate but not sure what else to say, "are you all right?"

Boxey tried to stop crying but without much success. "I'm, I'm okay," he said.

Bojay rubbed the thin back. "Bad dreams?" he asked. "Or is something worrying you? Either way, if you tell me, you might feel better."

"I'm sorry," Boxey said, gulping turning his face slightly toward Bojay. "It's dumb. I'm okay."

"I doubt it. You're crying too much for it to be dumb." Bojay sat on the edge of the bed.

"Only babies cry." Boxey's voice trembled in its defiance.

It didn't occur to him until later that he might be undermining Apollo's teaching. He just said, without thinking, "That's not true, Boxey. Everybody cries. It's one of the things that makes us human."

"That's what Dad said, sorta, when Mom died... but nobody's dead."

"That doesn't matter. People don't have to die for you to be hurt or sad."

"Do you ever cry?"

"I sure do," he admitted. He pushed Boxey's hair back, glad for the darkness. "What's wrong?" he asked again.

"I miss my dad." The boy's voice was low, almost embarrassed.

"I bet," Bojay said. The Goddess wasn't giving him any way out of facing this, so he bit the bullet. "He's gone and things are up in the air, aren't they? Of course you miss him. He'll be back in a couple of days but right now I expect that doesn't help much."

Boxey rubbed his face. "I know. I shouldn't cry, he's just gone—"

"Nothing wrong with crying when you hurt," Bojay said, brushing his thumb across the boy's cheek. "It's how we're made."

"I'm too old."

"I cried for my father when I was a lot older than you," Bojay told him.

"Did he die?"

"No," Bojay said. "Not then."

"Did he go away?"

"No... they took me away from him," Bojay looked over Boxey's head into the darkness. "He'd have kept me if he could. It's not the same thing. But I missed him, and I cried for him. I was twelve. You're not too old to cry because you miss someone you love. You're never too old for that."

"I wish he didn't go!"

"He had to," Bojay said. "It was an order. Warriors have to follow orders."

"Even dumb ones?" he asked resentfully.

"Maybe especially dumb ones. You can't pick which orders you'll follow. When you put on those pins you swear to follow all lawful orders of those in authority over you. All."

"But Grandfather's giving wrong orders," Boxey declared tearfully.

Bojay sighed and ruffled Boxey's hair; the boy cuddled up next to him. "Unlawful doesn't mean you don't like them. It doesn't even mean unfair. It means illegal. And nothing's been illegal yet." He brushed Boxey's hair back from his eyes. "Your dad will be back in a couple of days. And it's Firstday already, so in two days and a wakeup he'll marry Starbuck and all of this will be over. I know it hurts now, but while you're crying try to remember that. It will be over. Pretty soon now."

"I miss him." Boxey sighed and wriggled around to put his head on Bojay's leg. "I dreamed," he said in a small voice, his fingers pleating the fabric over Bojay's knee. "I dreamed a Cylon killed him. On that planet."

A Cylon had killed his mother, Bojay remembered. On a planet. "Scared you, did it? I bet. But he's not dead. And he has his whole squadron with him, and Red Squadron is very very good. And there aren't any Cylons on that planet. This is a battlestar, Boxey, and a battlestar's ops crew doesn't miss a Cylon outpost."

"Really?"

"You know your aunt is good at her job."

"I miss Dad. I wish he was here."

"I know. I'm sure he's wishing that too."

"Did the king hate Arianwen because she was a woman?"

Bojay was caught off guard by that; he'd forgotten how the boy jumped around all over the place in a conversation. What the—Oh. "She was a bandit. If she'd been a man and trying to run off with Kilhona the king wouldn't have been any happier."

"Why does Grandfather hate it so much? Why is he so mean about it? Doesn't he still love Dad?"

"I don't know why, but I'm sure he still loves your dad. Fathers," he swallowed hard, "don't stop loving their sons, even if they get angry at them. The more you love someone the madder they can make you. If you don't care, then you don't care enough to get mad."

"So," Boxey almost whispered, as if he was ashamed, "Dad wants to come back?"

"Your dad," Bojay said firmly, "is counting the centons. He'll come back absolutely as soon as he's allowed to. Your dad loves you very much."

"I wish it was now."

"Pretty soon," Bojay rubbed Boxey's back. "Pretty soon. I bet he's watching the stars right now, trying to see the Fleet. Wishing he was back here."

Boxey snuggled a little closer and yawned. "I'm glad you're going to marry Aunt 'Theni."

"Me, too," murmured Bojay, thinking, I am? and then, If she wants me, yes. I am. He kept rubbing Boxey's back until the boy's even breathing said he was asleep. He slid out from under him, straightening him out and tucking the blankets around him. He looked down at him for a centon, and then walked quietly out of the room.

Athena was sitting up in the bed when he came back in. He paused, and then sat down on the bed. "He's asleep," he said.

She smiled at him. "You know, there's something quite irresistible about a man comforting a child."

"Really? Remind me to upset him again in the morning, when I've got my strength back." He smiled back at her.

"No need," she said, leaning against his shoulder. "I'll just remember it... Thanks."

He shook his head, content to sit there with his arm around her and hers around his waist.

After a few centons, she said, softly, "They took you away when you were twelve?"

He sighed and took her hand in his, looking at her fingers. Such a small hand, such delicate bones... how could it hold so tightly? He surrendered to the events of the day, and to her, and said, "No. When I was eight. When I was twelve they gave up on him, stopped giving me back. I never saw him after I was thirteen."

"Never?"

"They gave up on him," Bojay said again. "Twice a yahren he'd get sober and show up at the Welfare Center, clean and with papers proving he had a job, and they'd let me go home. We'd do fine. Even when he started to drink again, we were fine... I could get him fed and off in the morning. He usually kept the job okay..." He sighed. "Then someone would sweep in, decide he wasn't fit, again, and take me away. When I was twelve, he came to get me and they wouldn't let him have me. I cried for sectons, I think. Ran away twice, made it home the second time. They told me they'd put him in jail if I ran away again. I believed them. So I didn't. But I got a mail drop, and he wrote me. Short letters, but they came... until I was fifteen. Never got another one. Never found out what happened to him, either."

"How long did you keep the drop?" she asked after a moment.

"I think I've still got a couple of sectares..." he tried to smile, and then gave up on it. "Couldn't find him. Hard to get Piscon Planetary Peace Enforcement to care about what happened to some hopeless drunk who just fell out of sight five yahrens ago. Or seven. Or ten... And nobody at Welfare cared."

"Was he really?"

"Probably... he couldn't stop—no, he could. He did it a lot. He couldn't stay stopped, though. He always started again. Sometimes I hated him for that." He interlaced his fingers with hers and felt her tighten her hold on him. "That's why I came when Boxey called."

"Boxey called?" she repeated, startled. "I thought Starbuck called you."

"No. I might not have come for him—well," he admitted, "maybe for the sheer novelty of it. But I spent too much of my life making sure I never had any small children depending on me to be able to resist one when it happened. Besides... he wanted to stay with his father. What could I do?"

She leaned close to him. "Nothing at all. And lots of people would have."

"I suppose... but Apollo is a good father. He shouldn't be put through this."

She sighed and squeezed his hand. "What happened to you? Did you get adopted?"

"Did you ever hear Starbuck on the odds of someone of unknown parentage getting adopted at the age of twelve?"

"Yes," she acknowledged.

"Well, when your father's alive and won't sign away his rights, even if they won't honor them, there's no chance of it. I was dumped into a family that took me for the state money." He shrugged. "They weren't evil. But I wasn't a family member; I was labor they had to let go to school. I wasn't supposed to have opinions or even anything to say. I learnt... I got by. But—" He was interrupted by Athena's sudden movement: raising her head, she kissed him and then settled back down against his chest. He rested his cheek against her hair and was quiet.

After a few centons, she looked up at him. "Me, too?"

He blinked at her, and then was glad it was dark in the room. "Well, I didn't want to upset him."

"Oh? Is that all?"

Something in her tone emboldened him. "No. If it were true, I'd be very glad."

"Hmmm. What would it take to make it true?"

"You'd have to want me," he said.

"Then," she said, tightening her hold on him, "it is true..."

"Your father," he started.

"Didn't we agree to ignore them?" she answered. "And if we didn't, let's do. At least for tonight. Please?"

"Whatever you want," he said, sliding down to lie flat, holding her to his heart. "Whatever you want."