Disclaimer: not mine Rating: er... kiddie safe, with one or two bad words.
Pairing: Kara Thrace/Sam Anders, ref: Kara/Lee, Dee/Lee Set: insert to Rapture, based on a certain spoiler picture.
Notes: I swear, someday, I will stop writing fic at work. (30 Seconds to Mars makes good title fodder. This one's from "The Kill") Fic caused by the Kara and Anders hugging picture from Rapture.

Rest of my Life by ALC Punk!

Kara exits the raptor, and Sam remembers everything he said to Adama--and it doesn't matter. Because she's alive and looking at him, and nothing matters anymore. He thinks he could stop breathing right now and it would almost be perfect.

When she starts walking towards him, wariness in her eyes, he tries to smile, tries to tell her with his eyes how much he's glad she's alive. The last few feet it occurs to him if he doesn't move, she might not make it. So he moves, too, moves faster than she was expecting and catches her in his arms tight enough that he can feel her breath catch when her arms go around him.

He holds onto her because she's all he has.

Sam sometimes wonders if Kara knows that. Right here and now, he's not going to tell her. He's just going to hold her and breathe in her scent. A mix of sweat and burnt things, dirt and blood overlays it, but he can smell the soap they use in her hair. And it's almost enough. He thanks the Gods for sending her back.

When she tenses, he ignores it. Maybe he shouldn't have kissed her forehead.

"Sam."

The tone and the way she's holding herself tell him she wants to run. It suddenly occurs to him that if he keeps letting her run she'll never stop. Dropping his head, he buries his face against her hair. If she wants to run, she's going to have to try pretty damn hard.

A huff of air escapes her. "I can't breathe, Sam."

"Tough."

Her grip on him tightens, and it feels to him like she is isolid/i in his arms. She's not going to disappear and throw his boots at him, she's real. Solid and tired, but he's tired, too. Worn out with a running war, worn out with worrying about her; tired of trying to let her go.

A shift occurs, and Sam isn't sure if it's her or him who turns first. Her lips brush against his and he almost relaxes. The kiss is the first in a long time that wasn't about sex.

Something passes between them, and Sam isn't sure what.

When she pulls back, he loosens his grip and opens his eyes.

The rest of the world cuts back in. Sound hits them both and the presence that Sam has been ignoring resolves itself into Medic Ishay, who is glaring at them. "Captain Thrace's hands need to be seen to."

"I'm fine."

"You're not fine. Lt. Dualla mentioned burns." Glaring harder at them, the medic glances at Sam. "If you don't carry her, I'm knocking her over the head with something which could make her concussion worse."

"Fine." Rolling her eyes, Kara starts to pull away from him completely.

"She kicked me last time I carried her," Sam informs Ishay before hooking a hand into Kara's belt as he lets her go.

She eyes him, but doesn't shove him away before turning to the medic and holding out her hands. "See? Fine."

Ishay grabs one and strips the tatters of cloth free. Kara winces as she inspects the reddened skin. "Not so fine. I'll need to look them over and give you something to put on them--not that we have much in the way of salves anymore." Her voice makes it sound like she thinks it's Sam and Kara's fault.

"All right, fine. Infirmary it is." Kara sounds resigned.

"Kara." The voice stops the trio before they start--Sam wasn't letting her go alone. Not until he was certain if he let her go she'd come back.

She stiffens against his hand, but turns her head to look at the Admiral. "Sir."

Noting the tension, remembering his own, Sam carefully pokes her then pulls his hand away before he gets smacked. Kara doesn't have time to glare before the admiral is pulling her into a hug that probably cracks her ribs.

A snort comes from Ishay, and Sam shrugs at her, then winces as the muscles protest the abuse.

The medic narrows her eyes at him, "I think you're getting checked out after the captain."

"Nah, I'm good."

"Bullshit," the medic says crisply.

"Sam." Kara pulls from the admiral's hold and looks at him, eyes worried.

He glares at her, "I'm fine."

"Let her decide that." Kara snaps.

"Hey, I'm not the one who got shot down."

"No, you just got shot at. You stupid asshole."

"Lords save me from pilots and pyramid players," Ishay snaps, voice cutting across both of them. "You're both getting looked at, so stop arguing."

"Hey, if you two are ready, I hear there's beds a-plenty in the infirmary."

It's Lee, and Sam watches Kara stiffen. For himself, he feels the anger lurking and knows that it won't take much to lose his cool and destroy the fragile thing that is between them again. Kara meets his eyes, and there's something like regret in them before she snorts, "Lee, you and I both know that the beds there suck."

"You're all going to the infirmary," The Admiral announces. "And that's an order." He glances at his son, then looks at Sam and nods. And Sam suddenly wonders just how much the old man doesn't miss.

Kara releases an exaggerated sigh before saying, "Fine, sir. If it's an order."

"It is, Kara."

Sam wonders what would happen if he holds his hand out to her--an offer of companionship on the way to the infirmary in front of everyone might be too much. But Kara takes the decision out of his hands when she moves forwards and pokes a finger into his side. "C'mon, Sam, we've been ordered to the infirmary."

It seems natural to wrap his arm around her. She stiffens, but moves closer and slides her arm around his waist.

"Kara..." He trails off, uncertain what to say.

"Infirmary, Sam."

Okay. Fine. He can do the infirmary. He can even do feeling her against his side and knowing she's alive. He's just not sure he can do the whole letting her go thing again.

-f-