Title: Death Watch Author: rita E-mail: mommacita1@juno.com Rating: NC-17 Pairings: SB/A, SB/A/B Archive: Yes, please, just tell me where. Series: No. Website: http://www.geocities.com/jennylmr/index.html (And thanks to Jenlmr for hosting me) Disclaimer: I don't own the boys nor do I make any profit from my writing. I just like to play with them and I mostly put my toys back as good as new. Notes: This is for Dian, who hasn't seen much SB angst lately. And to everyone who participated in the Adjective Poll. Thanks especially to Val/Tweetie beta reader par excellence. Warnings (if needed): No much sex, no torture, just angst. Perhaps a small "cute kid" alert. Summary: When Starbuck is permanently disabled, Apollo can't deal with it, and Boomer is left watching his two best friends wither away. *** I'm watching my two best friends die. Without each other. One's fading away physically and that at least I can blame on the Cylons. The other's aging ten yahrens a sectar. And that I can only blame on him. I wish I could blame myself. I wish I could do something. I visit Starbuck whenever I can, even though he tells me not to. He's still bedridden, though Siress Blassie tells me his physical therapist holds out hope he'll be able to get about in a hover chair or auto-assist braces someday. Once they can figure out why he can't process nutrients anymore. If they can figure it out. At least he lets me visit. He refuses to see Apollo and finally Apollo stopped going over to the Senior Ship. Now Apollo just sits in his quarters when he's off- duty. He works, he takes care of Boxey and keeps up as much of a front for him as he can, and he sits and stares at holos of Starbuck: Starbuck and him, Starbuck and me and him, at the Academy, on furlon, with his family before the Destruction, with what's left of his family now, playing Triad, you name it, he's got a picture of Starbuck doing it and they're all collected in a neat pile on his table. There's a smaller set on his desk in the Duty Office. I would guess there's a more intimate set on his bedside table. What the frak was he thinking that day in Life Center? ~~~FLASHBACK~~~ "I'm sorry, Bucko, but I can't take myself off-duty to take care of you. With Sheba and Bojay gone and you disabled, we're down to just me and Boomer in leadership..." "I didn't think you could and I didn't ask you to, Apollo," the blond lying limp against the pillows, his face nearly as pale as the bedding, replied, meeting guilty green eyes with understanding blue ones. "Hey! You saved me from - trust me on this - a fate worse than death. Don't feel like you're letting me down. You've gotta keep *me* safe now." He turned to the dark man standing in the shadows. "Boom-Boom, you've gotta watch this guy's tail for me. Promise me, now." "You'll be back, Bucko. You just need the time to recover your strength," Boomer said, trying to put belief into his words. "Never con a conman, Boomer," Starbuck chastised. "No. I won't be back. I'll be around though, so you two better stay in line. I may be on the Senior Ship, but I still have my contacts - I find out you two aren't doing your job protecting me and the rest of the Fleet, you'll have to answer to me!" He shut his eyes briefly to marshal his strength. "Now get outta here and go get some Cylons for me." Apollo hugged him so hard he pulled him off the bed. Laying him down gently, he ended the embrace with the Warrior arm clasp of equals. Then he straightened abruptly and almost ran from the cubicle. "Take care of him, Boomer," Starbuck whispered, as the dark man made his goodbyes. "There'll be a shipload of medical personnel to take care of me, but someone needs to look after him." ~~~END FLASHBACK~~~ Lampherian Flu. Sounds innocuous enough, doesn't it? And in a normal, healthy population, say on the Colonies pre-Destruction, it only kills one in a thousand. In our ragtag, overpopulated fleet of ships, one in a hundred is probably an understatement. Every ship is under quarantine - one-way trips are allowed, so that families can be together, but that's it. So I haven't seen Starbuck in a sectar. I know he's not dead, but that's all. Apollo's not dead either. Yet. But with the shortage of pilots, if the Cylons don't get him, the flu will soon enough. And now the word's come down that they've lost so many of the elderly and children that the orphans are being moved to the Senior Ship, it being in better condition than the Orphan Barge. So we leave another ship behind, adrift in our wake. Not the first. I pray to the Gods it's the last. *** "Boxey!" the intake officer looked up at the last child coming on the shuttle for processing. These children weren't from the Orphan Barge; that had been abandoned last cycle in a solemn ceremony. This shuttle had made the rounds of the fleet, gathering those children whose parents were too sick to care for them or, in some cases, had died. "Uncle Starbuck!" the teary-eyed boy launched himself at the frail man who barely had time to brace himself against the bulkhead before the boy was in his arms. "Take me home, Uncle Starbuck, take me with you. I don't wanna be an orphan!" Starbuck rubbed the boy's back in small circles, calming him. Chameleon started over to help his son, who was ill-equipped physically to hold a ten-yahren-old, but Starbuck shook his head and he turned back to help settle the other children. "What happened, Boxey?" "Dad got sick and Grandpa and Aunt Athena gotta run the ship and take care of him and he's not getting better and Uncle Boomer has to run the squads and there's nobody to take care of me." "Apollo's sick?" Starbuck couldn't process farther than that. The boy nodded against his shoulder. He suddenly realized that his Uncle Starbuck was barely able to hold him and squirmed down. "Sorry. I don't wanna hurt you," he sniffed, then burst into tears anew and grabbed Starbuck around the hips, nuzzling into his tunic. "Are you too sick to take care of me, too?" he cried. "No, never," Starbuck said. He looked around for Chameleon and his Siress as he pushed himself away from the bulkhead. "Wait right here and don't move," he instructed, spotting them. He waited for Boxey to nod his agreement before he went over to them. "I'm staying on the Galactica," he said simply when he was within speaking distance. He nodded back at Boxey who was pressed against the bulkhead, his eyes never leaving the blond man. "Of course you are, Son," Chameleon said. "Here are your meds," Siress Blassie added, handing him a small pouch and kissing him on the cheek. "I brought them in case you overdid, as you usually do. I hope you'll come back and work with us. You're so good with the children." "I will," Starbuck promised. "But right now ..." "Right now your family needs you more," the Siress finished for him. "And you need to be with them. Go." She gave him a push towards Boxey. Starbuck smiled and thanked them both for their understanding, then turned and held out his hand to Boxey. The boy ran to take it and they left the shuttle together. As they walked through the quiet Galactica's halls, Boxey cocked his head at a whirring noise. "Is there a daggit droid nearby?" he asked. Starbuck laughed. "No, there's only one daggit droid, Muffit. And he's not here. Where is he?" Tears filled Boxey's eyes again. "They wouldn't let me bring him." "Ah." Starbuck hurried to stop the threatened flood. "Well, but you're going back to him and your dad, right, so there's no reason to cry." The boy sniffed and nodded, swiping at his face with his free hand. He kept Starbuck's hand in a tight grip with his other hand. A few centons later he said, "Then what's that noise? It sounds like Muffit." Starbuck listened for a micron then laughed again. "That's me. I wear braces that have little motors in them just like Muffit's legs. That's how I get around." "Where are we going?" "Life Center. That's where your dad is, isn't it?" Boxey shook his head. "Only the ones who don't have anybody to take care of them go there. Everyone else with the flu has to stay in their quarters." Starbuck frowned at the implication and promptly pulled Boxey in a different direction - towards Apollo's quarters. "So your dad's in his quarters?" "Yup. Grandpa and Aunt Athena take turns watching him when they're not on the bridge. And Uncle Boomer when he can, too. Mostly he's by himself, but I heard Aunt Athena say he doesn't even know if there's anybody there." He paused and then added, "then Uncle Boomer said he figured he didn't care anyway." Starbuck only nodded and increased his pace. *** "Starbuck! What are you doing here?" Adama burst out as he walked into Apollo's darkened bedroom. "You shouldn't be here, you could catch the flu!" "I had it as a kid - it ran through the whole Umbran Orphanage when I was ten," Starbuck said, not moving from his spot on the edge of the bed, holding Apollo's hand. "Lower your voice, Commander; I just got Boxey to sleep." "How?" Adama said in a quieter tone, pulling a chair up to the bedside. "I was processing the incoming orphans on the shuttle." He finally glanced up at Adama. "You didn't think I'd let him go there, did you?" "I didn't want to, Starbuck," the older man said softly, hanging his head. "I know you didn't, Commander. But you have other responsibilities - the whole Fleet is your responsibility. I just have Apollo and Boxey. I can manage." "I ... didn't know you were ... up and around," Adama said after a guilty silence. "Didn't want anyone to know. But I was already starting to get around when the Flu hit, so it was just a matter of pushing a little faster." "You've recovered amazingly, Starbuck." "Looks can be deceiving, Commander. I'm still not processing food properly. What goes in mostly comes out the other end within the centar." He shrugged. "I take supplements and eat five to seven times a cycle. I get enough nutrients to keep going. And I'm only able to get around for a few centars at a time with my braces. Otherwise, I need a hover chair; I'm not strong enough for the braces alone, they're too heavy and they wear me out." Adama looked around the room. "I'll see that a hover chair is delivered within the centar," he said. "I'm sure they're needed by others, Commander. I'll manage." Adama smiled for the first time. "Come, now, Starbuck. I ought to be able to pull rank for a *hover chair*, for Sagan's sake! You're allowing me to get back to the business of running the Fleet, sparing Boxey from being labeled an orphan, giving Athena and Boomer respite. It's the least I can do." He rose and walked around the bed, giving the frail shoulders a firm hug. "Welcome back, Starbuck. You came back just in time to save the day, as usual." He reached past Starbuck to brush the hair from Apollo's forehead. "Perhaps you can heal my son, too." "That's my main reason for being here, Sir," Starbuck answered softly. *** Two sectons later: "About time you woke up and joined the rest of the living," Starbuck muttered when he saw Apollo's eyelids flutter. "Starbuck?" Apollo wheezed. "Still hallucinating." He closed his eyes again. Starbuck reached over and twisted Apollo's earlobe, eliciting a hoarse yelp, a slap at the offending hand, and an angry green-eyed glare. "Still think you're dreaming?" "No!" Apollo declared in a stronger voice, still glaring. "In my dreams, I perfected you - *my* dream Starbuck wouldn't hurt me when I'm helpless. You must be the real Starbuck." "In the flesh." "How?" "You know, you take after your father altogether too much. Both of you are totally inarticulate when you're surprised. I had the Flu as a child. I was getting better already. Boxey showed up, so I went where I was needed." Starbuck shrugged. "Let me prop you up." He suited action to words, propping Apollo up on pillows. "Stay awake. I'll get you some ovine broth. That's all you're supposed to have at first. It's something I can keep down, too, so I think I'll join you." When Starbuck returned with mugs of warm broth, Apollo drank him in with his eyes as he drank the broth. He finished the broth and held out his mug. "Uh uh. Not until someone from Life Center examines you. Someone will be here before the end of the cycle. You can have agua until then if you're thirsty." Starbuck took the mugs and left the room, returning with a pitcher of agua and a glass. As he set them down on the nightstand, he noticed Apollo's bemused expression. "What?" "Did you bring Muffit in with you?" Starbuck laughed. "No, that's the enhanced me." He put his foot up on the bed and pulled up his trousers to reveal the braces. "See?" "Impressive. So you were coming back anyway?" Apollo made it a question. Starbuck shook his head. "No, Apollo. You wouldn't even have known I was walking if you hadn't been such a frakking fool as to get the Flu." "Why?" "I'd only be in your way. And, being here, I'd be, well, jealous, of ... everyone doing what I can't anymore." "You weren't going to tell me?" Apollo whispered in disbelief. "No. You need to get on with your life. And I ... I need to make a new one for myself, since my body decided I wasn't going to die." He grinned. "I think my body was afraid of Siress Blassie, so it had to recover." He sobered. "I'll be headed back to the Senior and Orphan Ship as soon as you're on your feet again." *** The klaxon blasting red alert filled the Life Center two sectons later, as Apollo impatiently awaited medical clearance to resume active duty.. "Frak!" Apollo shouted, pushing away the med tech who was taking blood from him and jumping off the examining table. Starbuck spun away from the comm link, his hover chair whirring. "Cylons," he said tersely. "Two squads of raiders and a basestar within long-range scanners." "Let's get to the bridge," Apollo announced. "Right behind ya, buddy," Starbuck said. "Boomer's out on search with virtually all the experienced able-bodied pilots," Tigh was telling Adama as they raced onto the bridge. "We'll have to send out the cadets. We have no choice," Adama responded. "No you won't," Apollo announced. "I just cleared myself to fly." He stared steadily at the two executive officers, daring them to disagree. "Then get to your viper, Captain," Tigh snapped. "I'll muster the most experienced cadets for you." Starbuck activated his braces and jumped out of the hover chair. "Get this back to Life Center. I'm sure they have someone who needs it," he said, pushing it towards a nearby tech. "Where do you think you're going, Lieutenant?" Tigh asked. "To cover my wingmate, Colonel," Starbuck called over his shoulder as he exited the bridge. *** Somewhere in space, mopping up after the raid: "Hey, Bucko?" "Yeah, Captain?" "How did you know what the red alert was for? I thought you were coming for a shuttle back to the Senior and Orphan ship." "Tapped into the Bridge comm system when the alert sounded." "Oh. I should have guessed." There was silence for several centons. "Bucko, please stay." "Until the squads are up to full complement, I will," Starbuck promised. "After that, I'll just be in the way. Too slow, not enough stamina." *** I'm watching my two best friends die. Without each other. Again. I wish I could do something. Starbuck was all right when he first went back to the Senior and Orphan Ship. He kept busy placing the orphans and reuniting the surviving families. He requalified as a shuttle pilot, so we'd see him now and then when he dropped kids off or ran errands for the seniors. But after a while things settled down. I guess there wasn't a lot for him to do under normal circumstances. Chameleon commed me to say he'd gotten too weak for the braces and would I tell Apollo because Starbuck had expressly forbidden him to do it. I do, of course. And Apollo nods absently and thanks me for letting him know. Says he'll send a message. Right. I might believe he didn't care except for the neat pile of holos on his table. The smaller set is back on his desk in the Duty Office. All holos of Starbuck: Starbuck and him, Starbuck and me and him, at the Academy, on furlon, with his family before the Destruction, with what's left of his family now, playing Triad, you name it, he's got a picture of Starbuck doing it. *** I finally visit Starbuck. Siress Blassie and Chameleon meet me at the landing bay and escort me through the guards, who have standing orders from Starbuck not to let anyone in to see him. He hurriedly puts a stack of holos into his nightstand drawer when I march in, but not before I see the top one. Judging from the size of the stack, I'd say it's a duplicate of all of Apollo's stacks combined. He says he's glad I'm there. Funny, since he's done everything he can to prevent my being there. He wants me to know that he's going into stasis until the doctors figure out how to keep nutrients in him. I just nod. I didn't ask how he managed to keep nutrients in while the Flu was going around. Maybe I should have. I should have done something. I just don't know what. *** Of course, I tell Apollo about Starbuck being put into stasis until the doctors can cure him. We're in the Duty Office. He doesn't even respond, just picks up his stack of holos and starts shuffling them like a Pyramid deck. Laying them out, gathering them up, shuffling them; then repeating it, over and over. I watch, mesmerized, for almost a quarter centon. Then I try to get his attention. No luck. He just keeps up the repetition, tears streaming down his face. I don't know what to do - call the Life Center? Call his father? I give up and comm Colonel Tigh, who calls the Life Center first and the Commander next. So now I shuttle between Apollo in the Galactica Life Center, sedated so heavily he looks like he's in stasis, and Starbuck in stasis on the Senior and Orphan Ship. Sure hope the Cylons don't pay us a visit. *** They've moved Apollo to the Senior and Orphan Ship. I take Boxey over to visit. They've put Apollo in the same room as Starbuck, their pods almost touching. I wonder if they know the irony in that, then I look in Chameleon's eyes and know it was no accident. Chameleon encourages Boxey to talk to his dad. He does, and to Starbuck, which makes both Chameleon and Siress Blassie beam at him. Then he looks at me and asks, "Why don't they wake up? Don't they love me anymore?" I lose it then. Siress Blassie whisks Boxey away to play with the other children - the other orphans. Chameleon hesitates for a few microns, then pats me on the shoulder and whispers, "You talk to them. Tell them what they're doing," and he's gone. I stand between the two pods, one hand on each, and yell at them for the fools they are. I tell them exactly what they've done - to Boxey, to Adama and Chameleon ... to me. "Frak!" I scream. "Look what you've done to each other!" I'm crying and ranting and pounding on the pods. Two male med techs pull me away. I fight to break free, but they're stronger than I am and they caught me by surprise. When I calm down, I realize something's happening inside the pods. There's movement. Folks in stasis aren't supposed to be moving around. Oh Gods! I've broken the pods. I've killed them! *** "Eat!" I command. I didn't kill them after all. I woke them up. Wilker says it's impossible. Adama got all mystical on us. Salik finally broke up the séance by announcing he didn't give a frak *how* it happened, just *that* it happened. And since I was the prime mover, I could manage the rest of their recovery. Then Tigh made it an order. Starbuck whines, "I can't, Boomer. It'll just run right through me." Well, he's getting back to normal, whining and all. "No, it won't," I inform him. "You ate when you needed your strength to help the orphans and Boxey and Apollo. You kept the food down, didn't you?" He shrugs. "So do it again." He turns to the homogenized mass in the bowl in front of him and sighs. "It would be a lot easier if it *looked* edible." Apollo holds up a spoonful. "Or at least recognizable," he adds. Great. Now they're ganging up on me. All I want to do is save their lives. "Eat that and maybe tomorrow you'll get something that looks like food." "What about taste?" "We're still on the Senior and Orphan Ship," I remind them. I get sighs all around in response. "Eat!" I repeat firmly. "The sooner you're ambulatory, the sooner you can get back to the Galactica and real food." "The Galactica doesn't have real food either," Starbuck mutters around a mouthful of whatever's in his bowl. "It's better than this stuff," Apollo reminds him. "Point taken," Starbuck says. For several centons there's silence except for the scraping of spoons against bowls. It's a nice sound. Much nicer than the wheezing of the pumps in the stasis room. His bowl empty, Starbuck stretches and yawns. "You gonna watch us sleep, too?" he asks. I shake my head. Ungrateful wretches, that's what they are. I get up and collect the bowls. "As long as you actually sleep this time, I'll go." Apollo blushes. Starbuck looks up with his best wide-eyed innocent expression. Then he studies my face more closely than I like. He shares a glance with Apollo, then asks, "Boomer, do you want to join us?" He holds out his arms in invitation. "Bed's not big enough for three," I mutter. Technically the bed's not big enough for two and they are currently in separate, one-person beds. But enough people have found them asleep entwined together to disprove that theory. "Sure it is," Apollo says, rising smoothly from his own bed and taking my arm to guide me towards Starbuck. Starbuck is somehow standing, too, taking the bowls from my hands and putting them on the dresser, then doing something - I don't want to know what - with the door lock. "He can't walk," I protest, irrelevantly, but it's the only protest I'm actually willing to make. "He found where you hid my braces," Starbuck says, returning to my side as Apollo pulls me onto the bed. "Blame him." "I got tired of having to do all the fetching and carrying," Apollo retorts. Fetching and carrying? They're supposed to be weak and bedridden. "You've corrupted the Captain," I accuse Starbuck. "Probably," he acknowledges cheerfully. "And now it's time to corrupt you." "Starbuck!" Apollo admonishes and reaches over to pull the blond into bed on the other side of me. "He means *thank* you. It's time to *thank* you for bringing us back." "And back together," Starbuck adds. To my surprise, three do fit in the bed. I stay surprised, but stop thinking very quickly. The last thing I do think is how much better it is to be watching my two best friends live than it was watching them die.