Title: True Honor
Spoilers: ep 2:04 Resistance
Content: suitable for all ages
Disclaimer: This story is for entertainment purposes only and no money exchanged hands. Acknowledging Glen Larson, Ron Moore and all the creative geniuses that bring us BSG; no copyright infringements were intended.
Summary: A moment in sickbay (complete)
"Our own heart, and not other men's opinion, forms our true honor." – Samuel Taylor Coleridge 1772-1834
This will cost him everything he has left.
He has no possessions, having planned to be on the Galactica only a few hours for the decommissioning ceremony. All he owns now is a uniform he believes he is no longer fit to wear.
He has no friends left. Everyone he has ever shared a laugh with, a triumph or failure, a drunken confession, a dream – they are all dead now. The only person who survived the Holocaust that he could consider a friend is Starbuck, and he doesn't even know if she's still alive.
He has lost everyone in his family, except a cold and distant father. It would be easier now, Lee thinks, if the past weeks hadn't begun to heal the breach between them. If he hadn't discovered that he actually wanted his father's love and loyalty.
It would be easier now if he had, in fact, nothing left to lose. Instead, he clings to the only thing he has left -a slim hope for reconciliation with his father, for forgiveness and respect.
The last time the commander looked at his son, his expression was taut with fury. But Lee isn't concerned about his father's anger. William Adama may call Apollo a traitor, but at least he would admit his son is an honorable man. What Lee is worried about now is that when his father opens his eyes again, what he'll read in them is that his father is ashamed of him. Because if Lee breaks his oath, violates his parole, his father will see in him only the traitor, and not the man of honor. Lee will have lost a piece of himself, and lost his chance to ever make things right with his father.
He turns quickly to see if his guard is close enough to hear what he will say – but the corporal is standing a respectful distance away, staring dully at the wet marks on the infirmary floor where someone has recently mopped up civilians' blood.
Lee wants to urge his father to wake up, to relieve Tigh of command, and to spare his son the burden of this decision. But instead he says nothing, just tightens his grasp on his father's hand. The commander's fingers remain lax and unresponsive. His breathing still sounds labored; his weathered face more pale than Lee has ever seen him.
He cannot afford to wait any longer. "I'm sure you won't approve," Lee says. "I guess that's nothing new." He pauses a moment, then adds softly, "I just want you to know this isn't about you and me."
It's about doing the only thing he can think of to convince the civilian ships to resume supply activities, which is the only way he can keep Tigh from threatening the use of more deadly force, and causing more innocent lives to be lost.
It's the only way Apollo can see to try to protect Laura Roslin too. He was powerless to do anything when she went into withdrawal; in the brig he remains helpless to intercede if the hard-drinking XO makes any more dangerous decisions affecting the President.
And it's the only way he thinks he can prevent the crew of Galactica from splintering further. His father will wake up, Lee tells himself. And if he is certain of that, he is even more certain that his father will support Tigh, despite everything. There is something unconditional in Adama's loyalty to Saul Tigh, just as he is unflinchingly loyal to Kara Thrace. That loyalty is something Lee had hoped that he might earn one day for himself…. But he can't dwell on that now.
"I didn't know we were picking sides," he told his father once. But William Adama believes in picking sides. And anyone who sides with the CAG against Colonel Tigh will be judged as siding against Commander Adama too. Lee can't risk that. His father will need everyone's support when he wakes up.
So. Apollo has to leave, now, before the almost palpable allegiance he feels growing towards him from the crew incites someone to a mutiny he doesn't want.
He has to steal a Raptor, and escape Galactica, and he has to take the President with him.
He is reluctant to let go of his father's hand, just as he is reluctant to let go of his pride in his own honorable nature. For a moment, he hears his grandfather's courtroom voice in his mind, pleading his case. "Technically, he didn't violate his parole. He didn't attempt to free her while on duty. He was in the brig when he plotted this out, when he whispered his plan of action to Billy Keikeya, who then enlisted Petty Officer Dualla, who in turn…."
No. He won't defend his actions. He can't implicate Dee, or anyone else. And when it comes down to it, it doesn't matter if others may judge him guilty of breaking his parole or not. He is prepared to do what needs to be done.
It's the right thing to do for the good of the fleet, for the good of humanity. He knows that.
If there is one thing he has learned in this war, it's that right and wrong aren't simple. Someone suffers; someone pays the consequences no matter which course of action you choose. The ships without FTL drives were left behind. The Olympic Carrier, sacrificed for the greater good. This time, the cost of doing the right thing will be far less. There is only his own reputation to lose, his code of honor.
And the only thing he holds dear.
He lets go of his father's hand. "Goodbye, Dad," he says, and holding his head high, he walks away.