TITLE: Good Enough
AUTHOR: M or Lornadane
PAIRING: Starbuck/Apollo (Sort of)
RATING: PG-13
WARNINGS: Angst abounds; m/m inferences.
DISCLAIMERS: Property of Glenn Larson, I believe. No money's being made
off this, so please don't sue.
FEEDBACK: More precious than gold to this fanfic writer. Although a
little gold wouldn't necessarily be turned down. ;) Lornadane3@aol.com
ARCHIVE: Just ask. I'm sure to give a delighted yes.
SUMMARY: Starbuck discovers some startling revelations about himself.
This happens a few days after Hand of God. (I never could figure out those
centon/centar references. I try not to use them if I can help it. And I
try to stay away from time references in general) This isn't complete canon.
Hope that doesn't bother anyone.
This is my first Battlestar Galactica slash/fanfic story. Please be kind.
:) But I take criticism pretty well too. Just don't flame. That's just mean.
Also this is a song fic challenge. I really enjoyed a lot of those song
fics I read. Yes, I'm a lurker. But I got inspired by this Sarah McLachlan
song 'Good Enough'. Hope you like it. I've only written X-men fanfic and it's
laced with angst. So I of course had to bring it with me to this list. :)
Good Enough
Starbuck sat mulling over his drink in one of the small lounges tucked
away on the lowest deck of the Rising Star. The day had gone from bad to
incredibly dismal, and he'd fled the Galactica for the safety and
anonymity of the Rising Star. Here he could get a good vintage Ambrosa,
hide from his responsibilities and his friends, and nurse his wounded pride.
He wasn't given to depression, but today had proved too much for him,
rehashing childhood memories. Humiliating thoughts he'd buried long ago
came raging to the surface, and it felt has if someone had peeled away his
scalp to rub salt upon his exposed brain. He would have cried if it had been
in his nature. But he'd buried that ability just as deep. He didn't cry.
He drank. And he gambled. And he found a friendly willing woman to make him
forget.
Not tonight though. It wasn't good enough. He wasn't good enough. Not for
Cassiopeia. And certainly not for Apollo. Not upstanding, hero of the
fleet, blue-blooded Apollo. After all, he was just an orphan who drank too
much, gambled too much, and generally screwed up every meaningful relationship
he'd ever had by cheating. It's not that he went looking to cheat. Women just
seemed to come to him. And sometimes when he wasn't feeling good enough,
the temptation was too great.
But not tonight. Tonight he'd been left alone. Of course, it could have
been due to the fact that he'd found this out of the way lounge and it was
nearly deserted. Starbuck took a sip of his drink. The lights dimmed even
further around him, and he looked up to see a small stage he hadn't noticed
when he'd come in. An impossibly thin woman with a stringed instrument was
seating herself on a stool in the middle of the stage. She had short ash
blonde hair and a gaunt, not quite attractive face. Too slender, Starbuck
thought. Too starved from the little rations the people of the fleet received.
The woman started strumming gently, tuning the instrument. The two other
people in the lounge, along with the bartender, clapped softly, almost as
if they were embarrassed to draw attention to themselves. The girl adjusted
the microphone and, without introduction, began to sing.
Hey your glass is empty.
"Not empty enough." Starbuck muttered as he spun the half empty drink
between his fingers, brooding.
It's a hell of a long way home.
Why don't you let me take you.
It's no good to go alone.
Two days ago he and Apollo had made it back from a suicide mission. They'd
taken a Cylon fighter, flown it into a Cylon Basestar and had knocked out
the scanning grid of the control center, allowing the Galactica the
opportunity to destroy it. Apollo had unfortunately dropped the beacon
needed to identify their captured fighter to the viper pilots. If it hadn't
been for his quick thinking and Boomer's even quicker understanding, he and
Apollo would have been space dust, blown away by their own comrades. The mission
had been a success, he'd earned another medal and the gratitude of the fleet,
and he'd felt like a hero. He'd felt good enough.
But not today. Today he was just Starbuck the orphan, the irresponsible,
immature, non-committed rogue. Cassie had said as much. Cassie didn't
think he was a hero. Cassie thought he was an idiot. An idiot with a deathwish
or a fool who couldn't see the truth if it had slapped him upside the head
with his own viper. Starbuck sat back against the stale leather seat and tried
to listen to the melancholy sound of the girl's song, trying desperately to
forget the argument he and Cassie had had.
I never would have opened up,
But you seemed so real to me.
After all the bullshit I've heard,
It's refreshing not to see.
I don't have to pretend.
She doesn't expect it from me.
No, he never had to pretend with Cass. He just didn't see the truth.
Refused to see it. And Cassie had indulged his denial for almost a yahren.
After this last mission, however, she wasn't going to put up with his
felgercarb any longer. She never expected him to change. He'd never commit
to her. Not as long as Apollo was around. So they'd fought today. He'd been
reveling in the warm glow of being hero worshipped. His drinks had been free
the night before, after the short award ceremony. And he'd happily accepted
every drink until the early hours when the alcohol had finally caught up with
him and sent him spinning off into oblivion. Just exactly where he'd wanted
to be rather than face the outrageous possibilities that had been brewing in
his mind. He'd woken up to a pleasantly warm, lusciously curved body. It
wasn't Cassiopeia. And, as Cassie had so plainly pointed out, it wasn't
Apollo either.
That threw him. Just what the hell did she mean by that, he'd demanded.
Cass had shook her head and said he was a fool if he couldn't admit it to
himself. What couldn't he admit, he'd asked with a sneer. As if she knew him.
"You love Apollo." Cass had spoken those three words slowly as if talking
to a three yahren old. Starbuck lost it. He raged at her. She screamed back
at him. He couldn't really remember all they had said. Except that the whole
argument was based on his need to drop everything the moment Apollo seemed
to need or want his help. He didn't even have to ask. Starbuck volunteered.
"Suicide mission, Apollo? With you? No problem."
Starbuck had finally walked out on Cassiopeia calling her crazy. Apollo
was a friend. Nothing more. Starbuck didn't swing that way and Cass was an
idiot if she thought that.
But the worst part of the whole incident, the most chilling part for
Starbuck was the image that kept popping up in his mind during the argument
with Cass and ever since then. He and Apollo had landed safely in Alpha Bay.
There had been a few moments before they'd climbed out of the Cylon fighter,
when he'd taken Apollo's hand and squeezed it tightly. He'd gazed into Apollo's
eyes and a look had passed between them. A look he almost couldn't deny. A look
that seemed to say they were more than warriors on a mission, more than
friends. There was a connection between them and Starbuck remembered
thinking the word 'soulmate'. It was all so wrong.
So don't tell me I haven't been good to you.
Don't tell me I haven't been there for you.
Just tell me why nothing is good enough.
Starbuck flinched, startled by the last words. "Good enough". He wasn't
good enough for Cassiopeia and he'd never be good enough for Apollo.
Hey little girl would you like some candy.
Your momma said that it's okay.
Adama. Apollo's father. A hero in his own right and Commander of the
Galactica longer than Starbuck had been a viper pilot. He was one of the
reasons Starbuck would never be good enough. Apollo would never go against
his father's wishes. Not the life altering ones. And Adama never approved
of Starbuck's influence on his son. Never approved of Starbuck. Starbuck was
too reckless, too dangerous. He'd get Apollo killed one of these days. Never
mind that most of the missions Apollo had gone on had been Adama's idea. Never
mind that Starbuck had saved Apollo's life on more than one occasion.
But love between two warriors? Two male warriors and one happened to be
his son? Adama would never accept it. Starbuck could just hear his high and
mighty lecture on that subject. And so Apollo would never be able to
reciprocate Starbuck's love.
Starbuck's eyes widened in shock. What the hell was he thinking? He didn't
love Apollo like that. It was just plain crazy. So why had Apollo's
dressing down hurt so badly?
The door is open come on outside.
No I can't come out today.
It's not the wind that cracked your shoulder,
And threw you to the ground.
Who's there that makes you so afraid.
You're shaken to the bone.
Apollo had held nothing back. Starbuck was a disgrace. Late once again for
patrol. All because he'd woken up hung over and in some strange woman's
bed.
Which had led to a fight and probable breakup with Cass. Which led to him
being late. Jolly was prepped and ready to go since Starbuck couldn't be
contacted. Apollo was furious. It'd didn't matter that Starbuck was a
hero, that he'd earned another medal, or that he was Apollo's wingman.
He was now on suspension until he could show he took his job more seriously.
He wasn't good enough to be a viper pilot. And where the hell had he gotten
to last night, Apollo had pressed. The captain had seen how drunk he was. But
before he could address the situation (and probably give Starbuck another good
tongue lashing) the errant lieutenant had disappeared.
When Starbuck refused to answer Apollo grew very still. It was worse than
being yelled at. This was Apollo at his most enraged. He knew then where
Starbuck had been. Or more appropriately, he knew where Starbuck hadn't
been. He hadn't been with Cassiopeia. Which meant that more than likely he'd
been whoring again. Apollo was disgusted. Without another word, the captain
turned on his heel and strode away.
And in that moment, deep in his consciousness, Starbuck had known Cassie
was right. Though he wouldn't admit, not yet, Starbuck didn't love Cass. He
loved Apollo. Always had, always would. And when he'd cheated on Cass last
night, he'd cheated on Apollo in a way. He'd let him down. But the connection
with Apollo on that Cylon fighter and then later in the dome had scared the
hell out of him. It wasn't right. Starbuck twirled his drink again with a sigh.
The dome. He'd gone looking for Apollo when he hadn't shown up for the
reception. And in the midst of their conversation about gamma rays and
communication with Earth there'd been another moment between them. He'd
almost run. He'd almost let Apollo stay up in that dome by himself, rather
than admit to something he felt for the captain that was clearly wrong.
Instead he'd coaxed Apollo back to the party and proceeded to get blind
drunk in order to forget a feeling he could never act on.
You know I don't understand.
You deserve so much more than this.
Apollo deserved more than him. The whole reprimanding Apollo had given him
had shown him how much Apollo knew he deserved better than Starbuck. It
negated the look he'd given Starbuck after the mission, and later in the
dome. Negated the whole sense of connection. Apollo didn't love him.
Certainly not in the way Cassiopeia had suggested.
So don't tell me why he's never been good to you.
Don't tell me why he's never been there for you.
And I'll tell you that why is simply not good enough.
The words of the singer hit home. The girl's voice echoing around in his
head. There had to be more, Starbuck thought. Apollo may not love him.
Fine. But Starbuck had been there for Apollo often enough. Apollo's anger
wasn't warranted. Not at that level. Not for just the minor infraction of
being late.
Starbuck stood up abruptly and dropped a few cubits on the table. Maybe he
didn't deserve and answer, but he was still going to try.
So just let me try and I will be good to you.
The words followed him out the door. Starbuck wasn't sure what he was
going to say. But he had to say something. He had to explain. He had to try.
Just let me try and I will be there for you.
In a daze, he made his way back to the Galactica and to Apollo's door.
Patrol was long over. The fog lifted from his mind and carefully,
nerves on edge, he hit the door chime. Apollo opened the door a moment
later. His face lit up for just a micron in surprise. But then his eyes
narrowed and looked Starbuck up and down.
"What is it Lieutenant?" He asked, his voice cool.
Starbuck hesitated under the watchful eyes and suddenly felt the prick of
tears. He blinked them away furiously and found his voice. "Am I good
enough?"
There was long heart-stilling pause. Apollo seemed taken aback. Finally he
replied, "What?"
Starbuck took a deep breath and said, "Am I good enough. Me. Starbuck. The
orphan, the reckless, thrill seeking gambler. The disgrace to warriors
everywhere. Am I good enough for you?"
"You're my best friend..." Apollo began, as if this was the most natural
explanation in the world.
But Starbuck interrupted him. "I want to be more."
Suddenly arms were wrapped tightly around him, engulfing him in love. Soft
lips were placed against his ear. "Starbuck..."
I'll show you why you're so much more than good enough...
And he was drawn into the room and into at world he'd never thought he'd
be good enough for.
Fin.