Fresh Wounds Amid Old Pains

Chapter 4

Timeframe: Back on Galactica now, but still straying from canon.

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You and I both know you’re no stranger to pain. You wallow in your pains, alternately wanting to end them and afraid to lose them. Who would you be without the pain, Kara?

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She woke with a sour taste in her mouth and a nasty headache. Opening the curtain, she saw Sam waiting for her. He had his arms crossed and a concerned tilt to his brow. Kara swung her legs over the edge of the bed and yawned. “What?”

“You screamed so loud around four that you woke everyone up.”

She shook her head. “Yeah right. Why don’t I remember this?”

“You didn’t wake up. Five or six blood-curdling screams and you slept right through it, never moved a muscle.”

“And?”

He looked around, then leaned forward. “Kara, right here is where you tell me exactly what happened to you in that Center. What did he do to you that has you screaming like that in your sleep?”

She sucked in a breath and let it out slowly, looking away in hopes of distracting herself from his scrutiny. His gaze was every bit as penetrating as Leoben’s had been. Would Sam believe her? He hadn’t believed her about Kacey, so why would he believe her about Leoben’s actions? Ahh, yes, her mind whispered. What were his actions again? What exactly did Leoben do in that nice, neat apartment?

Images surfaced in her thoughts.

…Her head hitting the floor hard enough to stun her, Leoben slapping her when she bit him, one hand tearing her shirt while the other held her wrists above her head…

…Leoben strolling down the stairs, twirling a candlestick much lighter than the one she’d used to bash in his skull earlier and cheerfully remarking, ‘I brought a new candlestick since you didn’t appear to like the old one’, before punching her in the stomach, that move he perfected on her and used to immobilize her long enough to begin...

Begin what? What would Leoben begin doing? Kara tamped the images down. Don’t think about it, she told herself. Nothing but nightmares. Nothing that really happened. She shrugged. “Oh you know. The usual.” She swung one leg in slow circles.

“The usual,” Sam repeated. “Does ‘the usual’ always make you scream like that, because, I’ve got to say that I’ve never noticed it before.”

His voice was hard, suspicious. Suspicious of what? Of her? Kara reached for her clothes. “Mind if I get dressed while you continue this interrogation?”

Sam sat back. “You think I’m interrogating you? I’m trying to find out what happened to you, so we can deal with it and get back to our lives. You know, our lives? You and me together?” He morioned back and forth between them. “I’m your husband, so you’ll have to excuse me for giving a frak about you.”

Kara pulled on her clothes in jerks. “Look, Leoben held me prisoner, right? He cooked me these nice, romantic dinners and wanted to slow dance and discuss politics and religion in between letting me creatively do away with his next body. He wanted to show me how my suffering has shaped me to walk the path of a great destiny, or…something like that. It’s all about destiny, Sam.” Looking over her shoulder at him, she saw his lips tighten.

“You really are a bitch in the morning sometimes, you know that?” He stood. “None of that would cause those screams. I want the full truth, not some sarcastic half-answer.”

“It’s what happened,” she insisted. Part of it, anyway, Kara added silently. “And I’m fine. Really. There is absolutely nothing to talk about.”

He didn’t appear convinced, but at least dropped it, shaking his head as he left. Kara knew he’d be back to it later. How much later was the question. Would he ambush her later that day or wait awhile? She finished getting dressed and set about drifting through her day, watching people scurry to and fro to their jobs and searching for friends. Anything to pass the time, of which she had far too much by herself for comfort. The next couple days passed in the same manner, but as the hours went by, Kara found herself playing the ‘what if’ game.

What if she had been stronger? What if she had managed to escape? What if she’d never married Sam and gone to live on the planet with him?

The first question brought about no difference in her opinion. Leoben was naturally physically stronger than she. He still would have overpowered her, but maybe she could have inflicted more damage upon him before he hurt her. As for the second question, he would have torn New Caprica apart looking for her. She believed he would have, at least. He probably would have tortured Sam and everyone else she held dear hoping to find her. And the last question. The answer that would have changed everything. She would have been on Galactica, away from Leoben’s reach. He could not have taken her. He could not have hurt her. Kara would not have lost herself.

There was another question that tread through her thoughts often in the next few days. How else could she have hurt Leoben? Her mind conjured up images far more gruesome than she ever could have imagined prior to her time with Leoben, each more detailed than the last. She had all of the tiny details worked out, from the cuts precisely placed for optimum pain, to the blows she’d rain upon his face. She imagined him begging her to stop even though she knew he’d never do that. Leoben would never beg her for anything.

But Leoben wasn’t here and Kara wanted someone to hurt like she was hurting. It didn’t matter who. On one level, she knew it was wrong, yet another entirely cried out for blood and cried louder than the rational side. It didn’t matter if the blood was friend or foe. Anyone’s would do. She began to start fights and only after the fight was done did she realize how little sense her reasons for the fights made.

She began to resent Sam. She resented his assumption that nothing was truly different between them. She resented his insistence on looking at her and his wanting to touch her. How could he still want her? How could he want to look at her and touch her?

Sam refused to budge from the bed. He maintained that he had a right to be there as much as she did. Perhaps he did. She still couldn’t stand to have his body touching hers. Kara found herself sleeping on the edge of the bed when she did indeed sleep, so close to that edge that with every breath she nearly fell off. Sometimes she did fall. She tried to block out the knowledge of Sam’s body behind her and more often than not she failed, ending up spending her nights in that old chair right outside the curtain. Kara didn’t sleep any better on Galactica than she had on New Caprica, constantly vigilant for danger. Every little noise woke her from her uneasy slumbers.

Her dreams were not pleasant; terrifyingly violent images of Leoben raping her. They were so real, touting the crystal clarity of memory and lingering fresh long after they should have faded. No matter what she did, the images remained burned into her mind. She could drink herself into a stupor and the images remained.

She began to doubt they were only nightmares.

Kara stayed up late playing cards, putting off the moment of sleep until she could barely think straight. She headed for bed, surprised to find it empty. Sam was not there. Thank the gods, she thought. One night without falling on the floor. She didn’t wonder where he had gone, she merely put her back against the wall and tried to ignore the twinge of phantom pain in her shoulder. Kara closed her eyes, praying she could have one night without dreams, but it seemed she had only closed her eyes than she was opening them again.

The intensity of the nightmare that came was not such that one wakes screaming. No, it was far worse. Kara woke trying to scream, trying to move, her body stubbornly refusing to manifest those two reactions to her terror. She was helpless in the darkness until she realized where she was. She was on Galactica. Home.

Sitting, she clasped the sheet to her, roundly cursing Leoben in her mind for everything he had done to her. Kara drew her legs up and wrapped her arms around them, resting her head on her knees. She let herself think about the dreams that plagued her, then rubbed that aching shoulder and thought some more. “No,” she whispered. Tears trickled down her face. Kara licked her lips. A single conclusion loomed.

It had all happened, every last hit, every last…act.

“He raped me,” she said to herself in the dark and slowly, all of those shelves she’d locked in her mind opened. Truth was revealed in all of it’s darkness. Lying back down, Kara curled into a fetal position and cried until no more tears came. Acknowledging was one thing and she had crested that hill, but dealing with it? Dealing was another thing entirely. “Oh gods help me.”

Kara’s concentration became divided. She never let her guard down, constantly checking wherever she was for anything out of place and it occurred to her that it wasn’t a normal behavior. No one would understand, so she tried to hide it. She would position herself so that her back was to a wall and there was one less direction to watch. She joined in the card games and made certain she never had her back to Sharon.

Helo’s wife maybe, but still a Cylon. One of them. When she looked at Sharon, all she saw was Leoben. A Cylon. It didn’t matter the good Sharon had done, but what she was. At this moment in life, Kara couldn’t let go of the ‘what’ factor. She knew it was irrational, for in the past she had defended Sharon -- and Helo -- to others. But that was all before Leoben worked his will upon her.

She cut her hair, another attempt to negate her time with Leoben. With the long hair gone, she wasn’t the same person he’d frakked with. She was Starbuck again, ready to kick ass and take names. She was ready to take her things from storage and go back to work. But…it wasn’t that simple. Nothing was that simple and never would be again. A smile to the wrong person could mean unwanted attention and actions were easily misconstrued. Kara may have escaped Leoben’s prison, yet she was still in a prison. She could not escape herself and the truth.

The first clue that she may not be fooling everyone with her insistence that everything was fine came with Adama’s order to report for a psychiatric evaluation. It was a standard order for all returning, yet she couldn’t help the suspicion that the order came mainly because of her and what he saw in her whenever they spoke. He knew her well, so it stood to reason that he would see something of what she tried to hide. Kara argued the point with him as calmly as she could in private, but his mind was made up.

He stood in front of her, looking her up and down with a cool, measuring gaze. “Do you have a problem with this…Starbuck?”

The use of her call sign had her immediately standing taller, back ramrod straight and lips tight. “Permission to speak freely?”

He nodded once.

“I don’t need a psychiatric evaluation. I am coping just fine with everything that has happened. I am ready to do my job.”

“Every pilot returning to duty after New Caprica is required to pass a psychiatric evaluation before being allowed on flight duty. You are included in that number. You will also be re-tested on all flight skills. You’ve been out of the cockpit for a long time and I don’t care how good you were then, I need to know how good you are now. Report for your evaluation.” There was a bit of steel to his voice and Kara also thought she heard a smattering of impatience mixed in. Was he losing his temper?

“Admiral--”

“Dismissed.”

“Admiral --”

“I said dismissed, Captain.”

Kara turned and left, seething inside, angry at him and angry at herself. She went to her evaluation, waiting in line with a few others to see one of the two overworked, hassled psychiatrists working their way through the enlisted before moving on to civilians. Her turn came too soon in her opinion and she sat in the chair before the man, answering questions, impatient to be cleared for flight duty.

Finally, he sat back in his chair. “Do you think I’m stupid, Captain Thrace?”

Kara shook her head. “What’s that have to do with anything?” She couldn’t connect the question with the past hour. Why did it matter if she thought this man was a blathering idiot?

He jotted something down on a paper.

“What?” She squinted, trying to make out what he was writing.

“I’m not clearing you for flight duty just yet.”

She blinked. “Excuse me…what? You’re what? Why not?”

“You have repressed rage that could constitute a potential danger in the cockpit to yourself and others.”

“Not true.” Kara shook her head. “I’m fine.”

“My professional assessment stands as is.”

“Your assessment is bullshit.” She said it bluntly, pleasantly and with a smile.

He chuckled, writing once more on the paper. “You’re free to hold that opinion, of course.”

“I have to sit twiddling my thumbs while everyone else goes back to work.” It was not a question.

“No. You come back here and deal with the anger. The sooner you do that, the sooner you’re cleared. I’m not stupid. I can see the anger you think you’re hiding.”

“Frakking doctors,” she muttered. I failed a psych evaluation, she thought. I frakking failed a simple psych evaluation. I didn’t think that was even possible! Kara looked around the curtained area, struggling to keep her calm.

“This is not a failure, Captain --”

“Clear me then.”

“I can’t do that. You have anger common with PTSD and if I let you through and you kill yourself or someone else --”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Kara interrupted, visions of the looks and snickers she’d find later rising up. Her cheeks flushed, a hot rush. “How do I even know you’re qualified?”

“We were brought in by request.” He filled out a little card, handed it to her. “You’ll be seeing my colleague tomorrow morning. Don’t miss the appointment.”

It didn’t escape her attention that the appointment must have already been made for him to have a time ready. She pursed her lips and studied the card, tempted to tear it into bits, but decided that that specific action might actually confirm his diagnosis and forced herself to just hold the card. “You never intended to clear me today.”

“Captain, after hearing your account of the events on New Caprica and your behavior the past weeks --”

“My behavior?”

“The mood swings, nightmares, lashing out at everyone --”

“Who isn’t having mood swings and nightmares?”

He closed the file folder and set it aside. “You want to be out there doing your job, Captain? Work towards a resolution or you won’t be doing anything.”

Kara hoped that would be the end, that no one would say a word. This was confidential, right? She would go to her appointment and dazzle the second doctor with her stellar mental health and be on the cockpit by the end of the week. She went to have lunch, going when there wouldn’t be a crowd of people to watch and sat by herself, ignoring Helo’s invitation for her to join him. She was nearly finished when Kat entered the room and strolled over to her. By the smirk on her face, Kara knew word had traveled. She rolled her eyes and shoved her tray away, readying herself for the fight to come. How could there not be a fight? Kat rubbed her wrong on any normal day, so why should this one be different? How could it not be Kat coming to needle her about this?

Kat leaned down. “How do you fail a psychiatric evaluation?” Her tone was surprised, but then… “Oh wait…Consider who it was.”

She turned her head. “Get out of my face, Kat.”

“I’ve always thought you were a little short in the sanity department and this proves it.”

Kara uttered a short laugh that held no humor to it. “You want to step back right now, little girl.”

“Or what? Big bad Starbuck’s gonna kick my ass? Don’t make me laugh. You’re too soft --”

She was out of her chair before realizing she had moved, smashing her fist into Kat’s face over and over and damned if it didn’t feel good. They fell hard onto the floor, Kara straddling the other woman, drawing back her fist to hit again.

“Enough!”

It was Helo who dragged her off of Kat while everyone else stood and watched. Watching me crack, she thought, watching me fail. Watching me. Always watching me just like he did. “Consider your ass kicked, bitch.”

For a second, her eyes met Kat’s and the thought that she saw pity there, spurred her forward once more, but she was caught by Helo and dragged away.

It was Helo as well who visited her a few hours later in the brig, shaking his head as he stepped to the bars. “Kat’s all banged up, but nothing’s broken.”

Where was Lee, she wondered. Once upon a time it had been him coming to see her. She’d seen him several times since the return to Galactica and every time he had been coldly cordial, polite to a fault. With every sentence uttered to her he had let her know she was no longer a friend and never would be again. Even his clipped, “You okay?” a couple days earlier had been disinterested, as though he had asked merely because it was expected by others present that he ask.

She had Helo though, right? They went way back. Their friendship was good.

“Pity. Maybe she’s right. Maybe I am soft then. A broken anything would improve her face.”

“Kara.” His voice sounded tired.

“What? You’re gonna argue that one?”

He shook his head again, but in more of a ‘whatever’ manner than anything else. After a moment, he grasped the bars and asked, “Who is Sharon?”

“Who is…?” Kara blinked, shrugged. “She’s your wife.”

“That’s right. I’m glad you can say it. Start treating her like it.”

Kara stared at him, backed away from the bars and sat down. “She’s a Cylon.”

“Not the one who imprisoned you.”

She looked away with a grimace. He was right and she knew it.

“My wife has done nothing but bust her ass to be accepted for who she is and not what and you keep tearing her down with snide remarks. Sharon was the one who got your sorry butt back up here.”

Kara flinched. “I know.”

“She’s not that Leoben model and she didn’t hold you in that place for months frakking with your mind. She risked herself to save everyone on New Caprica. Did you know that they tried to stop her when she went to get the launch keys? She turned her back on them, Kara. She fights for us now.”

“I know,” she repeated.

“Hurts to hear it, doesn’t it? A Cylon rescued you from the Cylon. Chew on that while you sit here and the next time you see my wife? Be civil, because I’m tired of having this conversation with you. We’ve done this topic to death, Kara, and I’d thought it was settled long ago. This is the last time. You get it through your head, deal with it, and be done with it. Sharon is not your enemy.”

“Helo….”

He turned and walked away.

“Frak.” She wiped her palms on her thighs. “What is this, kick Kara in the ass day?” She closed her eyes and waited to be released.