Apollo surveyed the motley crowd before him on the hangar floor. Strange faces, grown familiar over the last several days- gypsies, farmers, loners who had sought to avoid the crowded cities- all depended on him, all looked to him for guidance. He hoped he wouldn't let them down.

"All right, people," he said, and all eyes snapped from the patrolstar behind him to focus on him instead. "I suppose you've realized I had more in mind than simple survival when I brought you to this place."

Nods and murmurs of assent rose from the crowd. Apollo saw Starbuck grin, from his position near the door.

"Well, you're right. I think we have a chance to not only recreate some level of civilization, but to strike back at the Cylons and secure a future for all humanity. It won't be easy- in fact, it will require a great deal of hard work from each and every one of you. But I think that together we can do it, all of us and the survivors that must be out there somewhere. This craft behind me is the Patrolstar One, the pirate patrol which has been secretly keeping you safe for the last two years. It was once one of the best-kept secrets in the Fleet, along with this place. Now, it is our hope for the future. The technology in this craft is advanced far beyond the level of the Cylons. Its weaponry is far more powerful than anything they could hope to produce on their own. It will be a long, hard road to prepare for a strike at them, but I have confidence in all of you. So who's with me? Who will work with me, to secure the future of humanity?"

A ragged cheer rose from the crowd, as hands were thrust in the air, signifying willingness to go along with Apollo's half-formed plan.

Apollo made his way to Starbuck's new quarters, clutching a lump furtively under his jacket. He knocked on the door, shifting impatiently until it opened. He ducked past Starbuck into the plain room and heaved a sigh of relief.

"Apollo? What are you up to?" Starbuck was puzzled by the odd behavior.

"I thought I'd never make it here... with this," and he pulled the lump out of his jacket. He revealed a bottle of fine aged ambrosa, taken from the private stock laid in for upper level officers. He smiled a guilty little smile, aware that others would dearly love to get hold of that stock, but determined to enjoy at least this one bottle with Starbuck.

"I can see why! Wonderful, Pol- how'd you know I was dying for ambrosa?"

"Stands to reason, after the last few weeks." He located two glasses in the tiny cupboard and poured. "To surviving..."

Starbuck took his own glass and raised it. "To surviving... together."

They drank.

Apollo settled into a routine of training his volunteers. He split the work with Starbuck, who grumbled and complained but got the job done. There just weren't enough hours in the day, though- Apollo found himself working late into the night, hunched over the desk in his room in the dim blue glow of the lamp. He raised his head from his plans when someone knocked on his door. "Come in," he called, wondering who it could be at this late hour.

The door slid open, and Starbuck staggered in. Apollo half rose, concerned, but Starbuck aimed for the bunk and collapsed with a groan.

"What happened to you?"

Starbuck groaned again and flung an arm over his eyes. "Will somebody please tell me again why I am training these ignorant fools to crew a highly advanced starship? They have bloody bricks for brains!"

Apollo couldn't help himself- he had to laugh. Starbuck emerged from under his arm long enough to give Apollo an outraged glare, then buried his head under the pillow as well when Apollo just laughed harder.

"All right, laughing boy, live it up at my expense," came the muffled voice from beneath the pillow. "It isn't you with this godsawful headache from trying to pound safety protocols into those nitwits."

"I'm sorry, Star," Apollo said, instantly contrite but still smiling. "Would you like something for the headache?"

"Please. And then you can spoil me rotten to make up for laughing at me."

Apollo was glad his friend was under the pillow, for he couldn't prevent the wicked grin which spread across his features at that muffled statement. You'd better believe it, my Bucko... He licked his lips. Too bad you won't let me really spoil you...

"As you wish," he said aloud. He rose to rummage through his small private sanitary unit- one of the perks of being an officer- and found a strong painreliever. He brought the pills and a glass of water to the bed and pried the pillow off his prostrate friend. "Take these and roll over."

Starbuck eyed him suspiciously as he gulped down the pills. "Couldn't have a spray on hand, no... And what are you up to?"

"Just shut up and roll over. That's an order." Apollo grinned. Starbuck set the cup down and warily obeyed. Apollo sat next to him on the bed and began working the knots out of Starbuck's shoulders and neck.

"Pol, what- aahhh!" Starbuck tensed with surprise at first, then relaxed as Apollo's hands soothed away the tension in his shoulders. "You never told me you were this good at backrubs," he mumbled, through sighs and moans of pleasure.

"You never asked." Apollo narrowed his world down to two things... Starbuck, and self-control. This was like the start of one of his favorite erotic dreams.

"Hang on a minute..." Starbuck struggled to sit up, then fought his way out of his flight jacket.

"Lay back down, you," Apollo scolded, half afraid and half hoping the shirt would go too. But Starbuck laid back down without a protest.

Apollo ran his hands lightly over his friend's shoulders and upper back, warming and preparing the muscles. Then he began rubbing with increased pressure, settling into a steady rhythm. When he felt the tension begin to subside, he used his fingers to search out and knead the knots into submission, one by one. When he could feel nothing but warm and relaxed muscles beneath his hands, he smoothed them lightly with a mere feather touch. "Feel better?"

He was answered by a gentle snore.

Apollo smiled fondly and pulled a thermal blanket over the sleeping Captain. Then he turned out the lights and climbed to the never-used top bunk, leaving his own clothes on to reduce the risk of potential disaster. In his mind, he allowed the fantasy to grow, of what could have happened had Starbuck taken his shirt off as well...

"Major Apollo said no unauthorized openings."

The young face set into stubborn lines. Starbuck sighed. "Look, I'm authorizing it, okay? I need that door opened, or I can't get out. Now will you open it, or will I have to blast it open?"

"I'm sure Major Apollo meant only his authorization..." The young cadet- Starbuck thought this one's name was Willie, but he wasn't sure- sighed heavily. "Very well then, on your authorization, Captain Starbuck, I will open the doors."

"Excellent!" Starbuck beamed. He set off across the hangar to the waiting Striker. This would be a bit tricky, with no launch tube, but he was only going into the lower atmosphere after all. No problem.

He settled into the cockpit, looking over the controls. Much more complex than a Viper, the techies must have been having a ball with this one.

"Good judgment comes from experience. Unfortunately, the experience usually comes from bad judgment," he muttered as he powered up the engines. He flipped on the comm. "Striker One to tower, ready for liftoff."

"Affirmative, Striker One. Clear for takeoff on my mark." There was a pause as the great doors opened to reveal the other side of the mountain. A clear plain lay ahead of him, offering no obstacles to an easy takeoff. "Mark."

Starbuck hit the turbo button and was thrown back into the padded headrest as the Striker blasted forward. He let loose a wild yell of exhiliration as the Striker took to the sky. Frack, it felt good to be off the ground! He sent the Striker into a roll, testing its responsiveness. The thing was incredible!

All too soon, he returned to his self-appointed task. He couldn't stay out long. Apollo hadn't wanted him out at all, but Starbuck knew it was essential to discover any survivors as soon as possible. He sent the Striker into a low-level orbit, scanning for signs of survivors. At this altitude, the devastation was painfully obvious. The fires had spread unchecked across much of the countryside, burning everything in their path. The destruction was much worse anywhere there had been a city. The Cylons had blasted every tiny hamlet into oblivion with the same thoroughness as the main population centers. Starbuck was sobered by the sight, and felt his hatred of the Cylons reach a new level.

The scanner blipped, indicating a human lifeform. Starbuck charted the location and flew on, marking several more blips. He flew around the globe twice, once equatorial and once polar. He charted a reassuring number of human life signs on several continents, then brought the Striker back in for a landing. The doors in the mountain were highly visible from the air, and he made a mental note to have them closed when not in actual use.

There was a crowd awaiting his return. Looked like his absence had been noticed. He grinned when he saw Apollo vault the low barrier and race to meet him as he descended from the ship.

Apollo, wild with relief, hurled himself at Starbuck. Laughing, Starbuck caught him.

"You idiot! Don't you ever do that to me again!" Apollo clung to his friend tightly. "That thing's never been tested, never been off the ground! You could have been killed! And what if a Cylon patrol had been lurking behind the moon?"

"Relax, Pol, there was no- mmph!"

His voice was abruptly silenced by Apollo's kiss. He froze, eyes wide with shock, then Apollo released him.

"Why Apollo, I didn't know you cared," Starbuck joked feebly. He was taken aback by the light of intensity in his best friend's eyes. "Um... Pol?"

"I'm sorry, Starbuck." Apollo flushed a dusky, uncomfortable shade of red and dropped his eyes. "I didn't- I wasn't thinking, I mean... I didn't want..." He swallowed audibly, shifting from foot to foot. "Ah hells... I did want, but-" He risked a look at Starbuck and felt his guts clench into a cold, hard knot.

The surprise and confusion on Starbuck's face gave way to understanding... and disgust. Without a word, he turned and walked away. The stunned crowd gave way in silence before him.

"Captain Starbuck."

That was all Apollo said, but it was enough to stop Starbuck in his tracks.

"You may have taken the Striker without permission, but I believe you still have a report to make."

Starbuck turned around, every line of his stiff posture proclaiming his reluctance. "Very well, I-"

"In my office. Now."

Starbuck knew that tone well. It was the tone which was reserved for severe ass-chewings of subordinate idiots. He made for Apollo's office without another word.

Apollo followed him up the stairs. The once-jubilant crowd melted away, finding other, suddenly urgent occupations. Apollo paused for a moment, hand on the door, before following Starbuck into his office. He stepped past his oldest friend to his desk, sat down, and folded his hands very precisely on the desktop. "Well?"

Starbuck recited the facts of his outing in a cold, dispassionate voice. How the Striker had performed, how many survivors he had located, where the survivors were located. Apollo heard him out with a face carved of granite. When he was finished, he turned to leave.

"Wait," Apollo said, in a choked voice.

"I have nothing further to say."

"Don't just walk out that door without hearing me out... please."

"Apollo..." Starbuck lifted his gaze from the floor. "Pol. I can't-"

"Can't what, Starbuck? Can't deal with me now?" The illusion of control was shattered by the raw pain in his eyes, by the anguished twist of his mouth.

"It isn't that, it's- I just-"

"Why not just say it, Starbuck? It's true, after all." Apollo's eyes bored into him.

Starbuck shifted uncomfortably, edging towards the door. "But-"

"Go ahead and say it- I'm bisexual. What's wrong? That make you uncomfortable, that I've had sex with a man?"

"I- yes!" Starbuck glared at him. "It makes me damn uncomfortable."

"And why is that? Am I any different now than I was last week?" Apollo shook his head sadly. "I haven't changed. I'm the same, Starbuck- it's only your perception of me that's changed."

"I know, Pol- but it's..."

"It's what?" Apollo growled.

"It's... you!" Starbuck raised a hand, dropped it again. "It's you. My best friend, my closest companion for thirty years. Not some stranger I don't know, but someone close to me. I thought I knew you, Pol, but this..."

"I guess you didn't know everything about me, after all." Apollo rested his head in his hands.

"I guess not." Starbuck slipped quietly out the door, leaving Apollo alone.

Starbuck checked his chrono. He had over eighteen hours of free time left before he had to return to duty. He intended to spend them getting mind-bendingly drunk. But how to do that, when the one with the best supply of alcohol was Apollo? Ah yes- gypsy wine. That'd do the trick. He'd head over to the section of the barracks claimed by the gypsies and partake of their hospitality.

He worked his way through the once-secret base rapidly, avoiding the eyes of the few people he encountered. He didn't want to deal with them now, not with his life thrown suddenly into turmoil. His lips tingled with memory, and he rubbed his hand over them. But he couldn't wipe away the memory of Pol's lips on his own. Not a bad feeling, really, just utterly shocking and unexpected. Not to mention profoundly disturbing...

He reached the barracks and entered with one thought on his mind: wine. Lots of wine.