The capsule shot from the tube with a hiss and a spin, drifting gracefully into the endless sea of stars. Starbuck could hear muffled sniffles and coughs, feet shuffling, the awkward uncertain sounds of people at a funeral for one who was held in mixed regard, but none of that concerned him. No, his only interest was for the man by his side, who stood still as stone as he watched the capsule bearing the shattered remains of the woman he had almost sealed to set adrift in space, on a trajectory which would ensure it plunged into the heart of a nearby star.

Apollo stood, dry eyed, for a moment longer, then turned and walked away. Starbuck gave the starfield one last look, then hurried after him.

"Apollo..." He moved quickly for one immersed in grief. Starbuck nearly lost him in the crowd, but caught sight of the familiar dark hair moving towards an exit. He pushed past people, murmuring halfhearted apologies. He finally caught the Captain at the turbolift.

"Why didn't you wait for me?" he asked, searching Apollo's face for some sign of emotion.

"Maybe I wanted to be alone." Apollo kept his eyes focused on the wall of the lift.

"Maybe that's a bad idea right now."

"Maybe you think so, but I don't." Apollo still didn't look at him.

"Yeha, well, whatever. I don't think you should be alone right now."

"Fine, then. Stick around." The lift stopped and the doors slid open. "I'm going to my quarters."

"So am I." Starbuck followed his best friend down the corridor, past two doors on the right and three on the left, then waited for the computer to recognize the Captain's lock code. They went inside, where Apollo immediately peeled out of the cape and jacket of his dress uniform, tossing them casually across a chair. Starbuck followed suit, grateful that the dress uniform didn't call for a pressure suit. At least he could be rather comfortable while waiting for Apollo to crack. He settled in on the couch.

Apollo went quietly into the kitchen and returned with a bottle Starbuck recognized from a side trip a few yahrens ago.

"Pol, isn't that the brandy you picked up on Svernica, a ways back?"

"It is. I wanted to save it for a special occasion, but this will have to do."

"Pol..." Starbuck blinked and shook his head sadly. "Look, I have no idea why you said that, but you don't—"

"Dammit, Starbuck! If I want to call this a special occasion, I can! What's your fracking problem, anyway?"

Well, I wanted him to show some emotion... Starbuck thought, rather bemused by this sudden flash of temper. "No problem, I just—"

"You just barged right in here, when I really wanted to be alone, and now you're giving me shit about calling this a special occasion." Apollo cracked the seal on the brandy.

"Apollo... I didn't think, and still don't think, that you should be alone right now. I know you too well. You keep everything trapped inside, never let it out-"

"Maybe I like it that way." Apollo poured two crystal glasses full of the strong liquid. He handed one to Starbuck, then proceeded to knock back a considerable portion of his own before sitting. Starbuck widened his eyes in surprise as he sipped his own brandy. Pol must really be upset. He didn't usually down strong drinks like water.

"Yeah, maybe you like it, but it still isn't good for you." Starbuck watched his friend closely. There was no reaction to that statement. "I don't know why you think you're different from everyone else, why you think you should be entirely self-sufficient, not ever need to talk to anyone or let anyone know how you feel."

"You want to know how I feel?" Apollo's control cracked a bit, either from Starbuck's words, or the brandy hitting his empty stomach. "I feel responsible, that's how I feel!" His eyes blazed with a momentary fire, then he controlled it and turned away.

"Responsible? How so?" Starbuck was surprised.

"Because I'm the one that sent her to her death!" Yes, there it was, the emotion Starbuck had sensed lurking within had broken to the surface. But it wasn't quite what he had expected...

"How so?" he said carefully. Apollo was glaring, eyes fixed on a point somewhere above Starbuck's left shoulder. His fingers twitched erratically where they clenched the glass of brandy.

"Do you want to know? Do you really want to know?" Now Apollo was looking at him, and beneath the fury in his eyes lurked a complex mixture of emotions.

Starbuck took a drink of his brandy, eyes fixed on Apollo. He nodded once, slowly. Apollo continued to glare at him for a long moment, then wilted. His eyes lost their fire and he nearly dropped his glass. Starbuck reached across the intervening space and took it from him. He sat the glass on the end table and waited.

"Well?" he prompted, when the silence had stretched on for too long. Apollo sighed and rubbed his forehead.

"You're really going to make me tell you, aren't you." He glanced at Starbuck and sighed again. "Sheba... she wouldn't have gone off if not for me."

"Of course," Starbuck said, still mystified. "You're her commanding officer, she doesn't do anything if not for you."

"Not like that." Apollo shook his head. "We had a fight, a big one. She wouldn't have gone off if she hadn't been so pissed at me. Wouldn't have gone off, wouldn't have been so careless, wouldn't have jumped clearance and smeared herself across that garbage scow..."

Starbuck couldn't restrain the corners of his mouth from twitching. He thought that had been a rather fitting end for Sheba.

Apollo laughed, a bitter sound. "And you want to know why we were fighting?"

"Yes, actually I do," Starbuck nodded.

"You." Apollo smiled and picked up his glass, raising it to Starbuck in ironic salute.

"Me?" Starbuck cocked his head and waited for a further explanation.

"Yes, you," Apollo repeated. His smile widened, actually reaching his eyes for a moment. Then he sobered and looked away. "She wanted something I just wasn't prepared to give her."

"She did? You weren't?" Starbuck was lost. "But what's that got to do with me?"

"Everything," Apollo replied, then refilled his glass. "But I'm not sure I want to tell you, even now."

"Dammit, Apollo, would you spit it out already? I realize you're upset—"

A harsh bark of laughter interrupted him. "Upset? Not hardly! Don't tell me even you were fooled?"

Starbuck just looked at him.

"Ha, ha. Everyone thinks Apollo's hot for Sheba, gonna get sealed and make pretty little Viper pilots to make Adama proud..."

Starbuck rose and plucked away Apollo's glass once again. "I think you've had enough."

Apollo caught at his hand. "Not nearly enough... never enough to take away the memory."

Starbuck tried to retrieve his hand so he could sit down again. Apollo wouldn't let go. Still utterly mystified, he sat on the arm of Apollo's chair. "Would you just tell me what the hell you're going on about?"

Apollo pouted at him. "Spoilsport."

Shit. "Apollo..."

"Oh, all right, I'll tell you. Sheba was tired of competing with you, wanted me to put you aside and seal with her. But you know what? I wouldn't do it. I'd rather seal with you, and she knew it, and it pissed her off and she yelled and she yelled and then she left." Apollo leaned against Starbuck, who blinked repeatedly.

"Um... you're joking, right?" He looked down at Apollo, who smiled up at him. "You're not."

Starbuck shivered. This was just too... surreal. "Apollo? Um, just how drunk did you get off one little glass of brandy? Granted, this is powerful stuff, but..."

Apollo snickered. "Yeah, that's right, blame it on the drink. Hell, for all I care, you can blame it on whatever you want. But the fact remains that I would far rather seal with you than Sheba, and she knew it, and it's all my fault she's dead, because I was always too afraid to tell you and led her on all that time."

Starbuck focused on the one thing that made sense. "Afraid to tell me? Why?" He managed to detach his arm from Apollo's grasp and leaned back, against the wall behind the chair.

"'Cause I don't want to lose you. And I always figured I would if I told you. But you're not going anywhere, are you?"

The eyes which looked up at him, although blurry, were anxious. Starbuck looked at Apollo, his best friend, and wondered... "No. I'm not going anywhere."

Apollo smiled. "You aren't running?"

"Nah. I said I'm not going anywhere, and I meant it." Starbuck smiled. He was still confused as hell, but he was sensing some intriguing possibilities ahead. He dropped his hand to Apollo's hair, stroking it lightly.

"You aren't scared?"

"Scared? Nah, not really. Surprised? Hell yes."

"You never guessed?"

"Never. I wondered sometimes what it'd be like if you weren't so...so... you know."

"So what?"

"Straight, proper, by the book... whatever." Starbuck smiled into those anxious eyes. "But I never... well." He blushed a bit. "I never thought you were interested that way. Not that I mind, of course! And I admit to having been more than a little bit curious..."

"Curious about what?" Apollo blinked, swaying slightly, even though he was sitting.

"You know, about sex with you—Apollo, were you drinking before the funeral?"

Apollo, eyes wide with innocence, tried to focus on him. "Me? No, not me! Whatever gave you that idea?"

"Oh, nothing, just..." Starbuck sighed as Apollo more or less collapsed against him. "Just that I know you, and that would definitely explain your temper earlier, and why you're going to pass out in about ten microns."

"Am not either..." and Apollo's eyes crossed, then closed, as he slithered down into a boneless pile in the chair. Starbuck sighed again. He should have known this would happen. Ah well, at least he hadn't drunk enough to give him more than a pleasant buzz. He looked at Apollo, then looked at the doorway to his bedroom.

Nah... too damn far. I may not be completely schnookered, but I don't want to haul his ass all the way in there... His eye fell on the couch, and he smiled. With a series of grunts and heaves, he maneuvered Apollo's limp body onto the couch. Then he rescued his own drink, still mostly full, and took over Apollo's chair. He settled back into it and dimmed the lights, leaving just enough so he could see Apollo's shadowed form.

So, Apollo would rather seal to him, hmm? That would certainly explain the odd behavior lately. Sheba had smeared herself across the nose of the sanitation ship two days ago. Her body had stubbornly clung to life until last night, despite the abuse it had taken. During the intervening time, Apollo had been locked here in his quarters, and refused to speak to anyone about anything. Apparently he'd been wallowing in guilt... perhaps not entirely undeserved, because he really had been leading Sheba on, but still... Starbuck knew well Apollo's tendency to blow things out of proportion. So he'd been alone in here, replaying the events leading up to the argument over and over. Then, when he'd gotten himself all worked up, Sheba had finally died, and he'd hit the bottle. Hmm. That in itself told how disturbed Apollo was by the whole mess. He didn't drink very often, and almost never to help him cope with a problem.

Now, the real question was how much of this would Apollo remember in the morning? And would he try to back out of his admission of feelings for Starbuck beyond mere friendship?

"Frack," Starbuck said quietly. He smiled, shaking his head. Pol... I can hardly believe this... and if you cared, then why the hell did you wait so long to say anything? It's not like I've got a problem with two guys getting it on...

That thought led to speculation... what would it be like with Apollo? He'd wondered before, but never thought he'd get the opportunity to find out...

 


The sounds of water splashing from the turbowashroom roused him the next morning. Starbuck was briefly puzzled, not sure why he was in Apollo's living room, then memory returned. He smiled, and wondered how long it would take for Apollo to work up the nerve to leave the safety of the turbowash.

It took long enough that Starbuck was dozing off again by the time Apollo emerged, rather damp and clad in a shapeless old robe that predated the Destruction. Starbuck jerked awake, uncertain what he should do. Then he took in Apollo's startled look and wide eyes, and a wicked grin flashed across his face.

Without a word, he rose and crossed the room. He caught his unresisting friend in his arms and planted a kiss right on his lips.

"Mmph," Apollo said, eyes opening even wider, then melted into Starbuck's embrace.

A long moment later, Starbuck pulled away enough to breathe. "Good morning," he murmured.

"I take it this means you're not angry?" Apollo, rather breathless, replied with a dazzling smile.

"Why would I be angry, Pol?" Starbuck stole another kiss. "Just because you took your own sweet time to tell me about this doesn't mean I'm mad... more frustrated is the word."

Apollo stroked his cheek, still smiling. "Frustrated, hmm? So what do you want to do about that?"

Starbuck chuckled. "I think you need to take care of that problem right now, Pol."

After another Galactica-rocking kiss, Apollo gasped for breath. "I think I can manage that..." and he stepped backwards, pulling Starbuck with him, into the bedroom.

Starbuck followed willingly. It's about damn time, was his last coherent thought before he was lost in the passionate embrace of his new lover.

 

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