TITLE: Secrets

AUTHOR: Greensleeves104

DISCLAIMERS: I don't own 'em. Just having fun with 'em

SUMMARY: The Story has its genesis in some spoilers I've read for 213. However, the GREAT majority of the scenes and dialogue are from my own imagination.

Chapter One is mostly Kara's reflection on her relationship with Lee since the events of Kobol's Last Gleaming. The mystery and angst and drama begin to kick in with Chapter Two.

SPOILER Warning! I will be referencing spoilers leaked for episode 213! This story also uses spoilers from the entire first half of season two.

"Lee has so much inside him that we only get glimpses of. He's having to suppress a lot….It's interesting to let that go and find out who he really is." Jamie Bamber on the character of Lee Adama.

SECRETS Chapter One

Kara swung open the hatch to the officers' duty locker, her eyes going immediately to a certain locker and nearby rack that belonged to one Lee Adama. "Frak," she said under her breath, as she took in its neat, undisturbed appearance. He had still not returned. Frustrated, concerned, and more a little annoyed, she stripped off her flight suit and got herself into her own rack.

He had been gone for almost three days, off somewhere in the fleet. Where, she didn't know, and the not knowing bothered her more than she cared to admit. He had been cagey with her when he had first mentioned his planned absence a few days earlier. Just handed her a duty roster, carefully penned in for the week ahead, and asked her to fill in as CAG for a day or so. She had tried to ask him where he was going, but he had brushed her off with an excuse about paperwork to do in his office, before disappearing down a corridor.

His aloofness hurt her, especially since they had been almost inseparable since they had returned together from Kobol some weeks earlier, sliding into a laughing, easy companionship that she valued more than she cared to admit. Without necessarily intending to, at least not consciously, they always seemed to be together, their shifts invariably coinciding. They worked well as a team, anticipating each other's concerns, solving problems together among "their" pilots. Kat had referred to them as "Mom and Dad" under her breath at one point, after botching a landing and getting chewed out by the pair of them. Lee had caught Kara's eye and they had struggled not to laugh out loud until after Kat had departed in a huff.

"Makes me feel old," Lee had said.

"You are old, 'Dad,'" Kara retorted. And laughed at the face he had made at her.

Even in their time off, they somehow kept finding themselves together, keeping up a constant, playful banter about anything and nothing. It was companionable. It was satisfying. It was fun.

And it also kept them from touching on any deeper emotion, or dark memory, that Kara—and maybe Lee as well—were just as happy avoiding.

Yet that night, lying in her rack, exhausted yet unable to sleep, those emotions and memories were harder to keep at bay. Especially the memories of those few weeks she had spent on Caprica.

Caprica had been such a strange, surreal sojourn. She had yet to speak of it in depth to anyone, mostly because the simple act of remembering it raised in her such overwhelming feelings of panic and guilt. Panic at the hazy yet terrifying memories of the Cylon 'farm,' of the women tethered to those machines, and knowing how close she had come to being one of them.

Guilt, because she had made it out, and they hadn't. Because she had left, escaped home to her "family," while those desperate survivors on Caprica had no home or family to return to.

And guilt because of Anders.

Their time together had been so short, yet she had believed herself to be in love with him. They had shared a brief, passionate tryst at that remote school in the Caprican hills, on a planet shadowed by fear and death. The threat of imminent attack had intensified their lovemaking, and heightened their emotions for each other. She had admired his gutsy attitude, his leadership skills, and frankly, was turned on by his body as well. He had reminded her a little of Lee, actually. Not just in looks, but in the competitive yet sensual way they had played that first intense game of Pyramid. During one play, she remembered, when Anders had grabbed her to try to strip her of the ball, an unbidden thought of Lee had risen in her mind, which she had fiercely pushed back down again.

Thoughts of Lee had been painful at the time. His last scathing words to her were still reverberating in her mind when she was on Caprica. He had shown his disgust for her on Galactica's hangar deck before she had left, and although she had punched him, his words had only matched her own self-loathing over her behavior with Gaius Baltar.

So there had been a sweet sense of relief in giving in to Anders's obvious desire for her. He knew nothing of her past. Was unaware of all the pain she had experienced, and the pain she had caused others. He knew nothing about Zak, and the myriad ways she had failed him. And for a few days, she had surrendered to the bliss of forgetting it all as well, and thought herself in love.

But now, weeks later on Galactica, she knew it had been an illusion. She had a hard time now even recalling Anders's face . The guilt of her broken promise to return for him also weighed on her.

She had tried, albeit half–heartedly, to fulfill it. Within a day of their return together from Kobol, she had asked Commander Adama for permission to take the Raider and return to Caprica on a rescue mission. He had refused pointblank, citing the danger of the mission. She hadn't argued, indeed had been overcome with a sense of relief that she wouldn't have to go near Caprica again.

But the guilt of her quick acquiescence –and her relief—continued to nag at her. Another screw-up, another of her failures, another ghost to haunt her in sleepless hours at night. She wondered if Anders was still alive. The odds were against him, she knew. She guiltily murmured a prayer for him, turned on to her side, and staring into the darkness, thought about Lee.

She would never forget the moment she had seen him again, there on the Astral Queen. When her Raider had found the fleet--albeit an oddly diminished one--off Kobol, she had been intensely relieved, grateful that her instinct to jump there rather than the fleet's previous coordinates had been correct.

After docking, she was the first out of the Raider, driven by a visceral need to get away from any and all things Cylon. Walking down the dimly lit corridor, she realized wearily that she felt no elation that her crazy-assed mission was finally nearing completion. Instead, she was simply exhausted, scarred by the physical and emotional wounds she had suffered on Caprica, and uncharacteristically close to tears.

Then she turned the corner and in a sea of faces on the far side of the room, saw only one.

Lee.

He was walking toward her, arms outstretched, blue eyes warm and loving, his relief at seeing her alive and whole radiating from him. Her exhaustion, her pain, her sadness—all were forgotten in an overwhelming sense of relief and joy. She was home. She was with Lee again. Her arms reached out to him, and they caught one another up in a huge embrace, unconsciously sighing in relief as they held one another. She couldn't remember ever hugging him before, and wondered why ever not.

And then he had kissed her.

It was electrifying, but so utterly unexpected that without thinking she had pulled away, and stared into blue eyes as shocked as hers surely were. That brief, confused moment was shattered in the tension that suddenly escalated when Lee caught sight of Sharon. And it wasn't until hours later, alone with her thoughts, that she had time to reflect on the kiss, and her reaction to it. And to grow utterly disgusted with herself.

What kind of a person was she? She had stood in the yellow haze of Caprica, holding on to Anders, believing herself to be in love with him, and promising to return for him. And now, mere hours later, she found herself aroused by another man's kiss, brief though it had been. The fact that it was Lee's kiss didn't change anything. Maybe it made it worse. He was the one who had hurled in her face the charge that she couldn't keep her pants on. Was he right? Was she incapable of really loving someone? Was she perhaps too shallow for anything better than a quick frak? Was that all that Anders was to her?

It was in this mood that Lee had found her, angrily bouncing the pyramid ball against the wall of the deserted holding room. Perhaps, she thought, as she lay in her rack now, weeks later, remembering it, just perhaps, if Lee had opened with the warm words he used later, she might have succumbed to her desire to tell him everything right then. To weep on his shoulder, to surrender to the honesty and openness their earlier hug had implicitly invited.

But instead he had grabbed her pyramid ball, and refused to give it back. (The ball that Anders had given her, she remembered, lashing herself again with her guilt.) Her own self-loathing was immediately redirected into anger at Lee. And by the time he did reach out to her, expressing his concern for the evident pain she was in, it was too late. She was so determined to prove to herself that she loved Anders, that when Lee uttered his soft "I love you," she made sure to turn it into a joke. She teased him with it mercilessly, to ensure that he would be too embarrassed to ever bring it up again. And he hadn't. Nor had she.

Despite that turbulent reunion, their subsequent adventure together on Kobol had been exhilarating, she had to admit to herself. Odd to call it that, since they had been in constant danger of getting killed. But the frisson of danger had added to the romance of it. Lee and Kara, side by side, watching each other's backs, working in smooth and deadly tandem, protecting each other, and the President. They had slept under the stars, and during the night watches had kept one another company.

And they had talked. Mostly about inconsequential things, neither willing to approach the intimacy so abruptly aborted on the Astral Queen. But Lee had been more forthcoming than she, filling her in on the horrible events of the previous weeks—the Commander getting shot, Sharon's betrayal, and the chaos the fleet had descended into under Tigh.

Kara had tried in turn to tell him about Caprica, but gave him only the sketchiest of details. She mentioned the Resistance movement; she told him of the Cylons' breeding programs. But she never told him of her own experience on the farm. And of Anders, she said nothing. Lee, his clear blue eyes fastened on her face as she talked slowly and hesitantly, seemed aware of the many gaps in her story, but didn't press her.

And then, their shared joy in the reconciliation with the Commander, the successful discovery of the tomb and the map, and their return to a reunited fleet. And with their return home to Galactica, Kara and Lee's relationship had shifted into its same old comfortable pattern.

But now, sleepless in her rack, Kara admitted to herself -- no, it wasn't the same. They had been close ever since the Attack, of course, when Lee had found himself marooned on his father's ship, with her as his only friend.

But their companionship since their reunion on the Astral Queen was far more constant now than it had ever been. They seemed almost incapable of being out of each other's sight. And Kara suspected part of the reason her feelings for Anders had faded so quickly was because her feelings for Lee had grown.

But grown to what? What did she want from Lee Adama? Her mind shied away from that question, not ready to examine it too closely yet. Instead she just whispered into the darkness, "right now I'd just like him to come back." And then after a pause, more forcefully, "And to know where the hell he's been the last few days."

Turning over and punching her pillow savagely, Kara reflected on the change she had seen in Lee, not long before his abrupt leave of absence.

It has started, innocently enough, with a trip to Cloud Nine two days earlier. At breakfast in the mess hall that morning, he had dropped into the chair across from her, took a sip of her coffee, then mentioned that he was off to spend a few hours on Cloud Nine, dealing with some supply issues the President was concerned about.

"Great," Kara said sarcastically, reclaiming her coffee with a mock glare at him. "So you'll be off getting a suntan in the fake sunshine, while we're here doing your work. Must be nice to be the President's advisor, huh? Perks are good."

"Oh, shut up," Lee said companionably. "I don't work with her much anymore, really. She's been careful not to ask me for help, since the..." he paused, "well, since what happened."

Kara leaned forward, her face all wide-eyed innocence, though her eyes were sparkling mischievously. "Whatever are you referring to, Captain? Oh, oh, wait, do you mean the… mutiny?"

Lee's face tightened a bit momentarily, then he laughed despite himself.

"You just don't know when to shut up, do you, Lieutenant? And anyway, your record isn't too spotless when it comes to obeying orders, is it?"

Kara leaned back with a grin, "Part of my charm, sir. You, on the other hand," she cocked her head at him, "your job has always been to be the perfect gentleman, hasn't it?"

Lee rolled his eyes, grinned back, and stood up. "I'm off, but listen. You're off duty this afternoon, right? Why don't you pick up a few other pilots, grab a raptor, and come and join me in Cloud Nine's bar? Maybe a little R&R will stop some of the..." He raised an eyebrow, "whining I've heard complaints about lately."

Kara gave a mock salute. "Yes sir, Captain."

A comfortable friendship. Companionable. Satisfying.

Mostly.

And then, somehow, it had all gotten shot to hell. Lee's fault? Her own? She couldn't precisely recall. But what she did recall, with complete clarity, was the moment she had seen him again that day.

Kara, Racetrack, and two male pilots named Hummer and Castoff had been wandering through the throngs of people on Cloud Nine, on their way to the fleet's best bar. While the others chattered, Kara's eyes scanned the crowd for Lee, until she caught sight of his unmistakable figure in the distance. With a little smile, she started towards him, then abruptly stopped, causing Racetrack to run directly into her back.

"What the hell are you doing, Starbuck?" Racetrack said in an annoyed voice, giving Kara a little shove to move her out of the way.

Kara wasn't listening, her eyes still staring at Lee, and…who was that? Remembering herself suddenly, she turned back to the other pilots. "Hey, guys, go on in the bar, and I'll meet you in a few, OK?" Racetrack flicked her eyes towards the direction Kara had been staring, then looked at Kara shrewdly, before shrugging and linking her arms through those of her companions. "Come on, boys, I'm dying for a drink."

Alone now, Kara cursed herself a little under her breath. What was wrong with her? Why couldn't she act naturally, go and approach her friend, standing only some fifty feet from her?

But she didn't. Instead, she shifted a few steps towards a nearby fountain for cover, and engaged in some shameless, covert staring.

Not that Lee would have noticed her if she had been doing cartwheels on Cloud Nine's expansive lawn. For Lee Adama was engaged in an intense conversation with a woman near the steps of the Cloud Nine resort building. Despite the many people brushing past them, filling the air with chatter, Lee seemed completely oblivious to anything but her, and it was his concentrated focus on his companion that had caught Kara's eye, and pulled her to a stop.

The woman was petite, with long blonde hair, and carried herself with such a graceful femininity that Kara was suddenly painfully aware of her own grungy tanktops and sweaty military pants. As she watched, Lee leaned in closer to the woman, still talking intently. Kara felt her breath tighten suddenly. With what? Could this be jealousy? She shut her eyes and gave her head a little shake. "Get a grip, Kara," she hissed to herself, then, unbidden, her eyes opened again on Lee. He was bending down now, and Kara realized that that there was a small child, perhaps one and a half or two years old, playing next to the woman. Lee tentatively reached out his hand, then immediately withdrew it and abruptly stood up. The woman placed her hand on Lee's arm, and the three of them—man, woman and child—went up the stairs and disappeared into the building.

Leaving Kara Thrace alone in the midst of a milling crowd.