Sacrifice
By Josephine Darcy
(Original at http://members.tripod.com/~JosephineDarcy/sacrifice.html)

When the call came in, he was standing on the bridge beside Apollo.
A typical location for him, he mused -- not the bridge, but beside
Apollo. When he thought of all the places in his life he hadn't
belonged, he could only marvel that he'd found this spot, orbiting
nearer than anyone else around the ever-bright star of their Strike
Captain.

The thought struck him as funny and he stifled a chuckle, earning
a curious glance from his friend. He just shook his head, guessing
Apollo wouldn't find the description amusing. Forced into the
spotlight time and time again, Apollo hated the notoriety. Still
he bore it better than any man Starbuck knew, better even than
their illustrious Commander, Starbuck thought. There was just
something about Apollo -- but then Starbuck suspected he was probably
biased.

Both men however, Commander and Captain, were showing the strain
of their office today. Both were tired, both worried, both bearing
too much weight on their shoulders. Which was one of the reasons
why Starbuck stayed so close to Apollo's side -- worried that no
one would be there to catch the man when he finally collapsed.
Apollo had dismissed him earlier, urging him to get some rest.
After all he wasn't really needed on the bridge to convey the
routine reports the Commander and Colonel Tigh were demanding; the
Strike Captain was certainly capable of reporting the current state
of the squadrons all on his own. But Starbuck followed anyway and
no one thought twice about his presence.

As to the state of the squadrons -- Starbuck stood back and watched
as Apollo spoke softly to his father, noting critically the worry
in both men's faces. The state of the squadrons was only slightly
better than the state of the fleet -- which wasn't saying much.
Half the pilots were down with the same virus that was running
rampant through the fleet, medical personnel were stretched to
their thinnest, medicine stores were nearly depleted. That alone
would have been enough to put that look of exhaustion and worry in
both Apollo's and Adama's eyes.  But the virus had merely been a
side story to the major worry -- lack of fuel. None of the planets
or planetoids the fleet had passed in sectons had possessed the
element that fueled their fleet. Their fuel reserves were at an
end, and without more the fleet would soon be dead in space. Already
they'd had to power down all non-essential systems.  The agro ships
were in dire condition, heat production reduced -- which meant
their food supplies would soon be dwindling. They needed a new
supply of fuel, and they needed it now. Thankfully the virus at
least was winding down -- Starbuck and Apollo were both immune
having suffered a milder form of the virus as children. Many of
the other warriors, however, had not been so lucky.

But today other news loomed on the horizon, one met with both hope
and trepidation. Rumors had abounded all day of a new system picked
up on sensor -- a system with several planets, any number of which
might have the much needed fuel deposits. They changed course to
investigate, but as they grew closer to the system they started
picking up indications that not only was this system inhabited,
but quite heavily populated. Starbuck himself recalled the sense
of alarm that had washed over him at the realization -- just as
likely the population was Cylon. But to date no Cylon transmissions
had been detected, and all indications suggested that the Cylon
Empire had not yet reached this place. If they never saw another
tin-head again it would be too soon.

Still centares away from the system, they had no choice but to wait
with patience and hope for the best. The only good news they'd had
so far was that preliminary indications were that Tylium deposits
could be found at least in some small quantity on one of the system's
moons.  There would be fuel enough for the fleet.

"Sir," Tigh's voice drew their attention to the com-station, and
Starbuck watched in some amusement as both father and son looked
up in unison, identical expressions on their faces. "We're starting
to pick up planetary transmissions. One of them might be a greeting."

"Might be?" Adama asked.

Colonel Tigh approached the command platform, motioning to the
com-officer to patch a transmission through to the commander's
panel.  "It's being beamed toward us. But our computers don't
recognize the language. It isn't in any of our databanks."

"Let's hear it," Adama ordered, and the rest of the bridge crew
automatically quieted down in curiosity to hear this first
transmission.

The voice that emerged from the speakers might have been that of
any young man on the Galactica, save for the fact that the language
was completely indecipherable. There was a musical quality to the
language, a softness to the vowels, but interspersed amongst the
words were a few odd clicks as if the man were clicking his tongue
against the roof of his mouth. "Cotorm' da kanv't decoum." The
phrase was repeated over and over again.

"Have you cross referenced it against the historical archive?"
Adama asked, addressing the com-officer directly

"Yes, sir, but I'm not getting any matches."

Tigh frowned. "We could try transmitting our own greeting in several
languages. They might be able to make a match if we can't."

Adama nodded. "Assuming it's a greeting and not a warning."

"It's a greeting." Apollo's voice surprised everyone -- not that
he'd spoken but rather that he sounded so certain in his conviction.

Adama frowned. "I certainly hope -- "

"I recognize it," Apollo explained, cutting off what ever it was
his father was going to say.

Starbuck felt a chill go down his spine as he stared across at his
wingmate. There was faraway look in Apollo's green eyes, and he
seemed suddenly very distant. It was a sensation he didn't like
and he fought the sudden urge to step forward and grab his friend,
pulling him back from wherever it was he'd gone.

"What do you mean you recognize it?" Adama demanded. "Where have
you heard it before?"

At that Apollo frowned, seeming as if he was giving his father's
question serious thought. A look of confusion filled his face.
"I... I don't remember. But the words..." He shook his head as if
to clear it. Strangely enough he looked even more baffled afterwards.
"The words are just there. They're familiar."

A look of wonder crossed Adama's face and his eyes lit up suddenly.
"The ship of lights?" he asked. Starbuck recognized that tone of
reverence.

Always before, Apollo was the first to deny any lingering connection
with the ship of lights, almost adamant in his need to suppress
even the slightest rumor that he was somehow touched or blessed or
chosen for some higher purpose because of his experiences with
those strange beings. But this time he said nothing, simply continued
to stare forward at the view screen and the expanse of stars filling
the horizon.

Adama turned instead to Starbuck. "What about you?" he demanded.
"Do you recognize the words?" For of course Starbuck and Sheba had
both had their own experiences on that ship, and they had been
gifted like Apollo with the coordinates the entire fleet now
followed. But that's where it ended with them. Neither Starbuck
nor Sheba had been brought back from the dead, and Starbuck would
have laid good odds that Sheba would no more recognize those words
than he did.

"No, sir," he shook his head. "It's complete gibberish to me."

Frowning, Adama looked back at his son. A deeply religious man,
Adama was, more likely than not, willing to see miracles and divine
intervention in unexplainable occurrences, but even he had to have
a hard time seeing it coming in the form of his own son. "Can you
communicate with them, do you think?" he asked Apollo.

The Captain shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe. The words are familiar
-- but... I don't know."

"Try," Adama suggested, and he nodded to Tigh. "Open a frequency."

Tigh hit a switch on the command panel and the greeting sounded
again.  "Cotorm' da kanv't decoum."

Apollo frowned, his gaze turned inward. "Kanv't umatha 'do moroum,"
he said with some hesitancy, the words sounding less musical coming
from Apollo's mouth.

The repeated hail stopped, and the bridge crew waited in silence
for a response.

"Moroum?" the voice asked, and they could all hear the confusion
in it. "Con kanv't moroum sif thar' ka da?"

"Moroum sif," Apollo repeated. He shook his head, as if looking
for something he just couldn't find. "Bref'vtha?"

"Apollo?" Adama asked anxiously.

Apollo just shrugged. "I think he understands me. I don't think
I'm pronouncing the words right."

"Do what you can," Adama urged. "Keep him talking."

Apollo nodded and moved toward the com-station to begin the dialogue.
 _________________________________________________________________

Starbuck lingered on the bridge a while longer before finally
deciding that someone would need to take care of Apollo's other
obligations. He made a brief detour by the Captain's office, checking
on his schedule before heading out to check on Boxey. The boy, used
to the various warriors and family members who filled in during
Apollo's absence, was delighted to spend some time with Starbuck.
Eventually he dropped the boy off at Athena's quarters, filling
her in on the situation on the bridge. She'd been struck down with
virus and was only now recovering.  Temporarily free of bridge duty
she was glad for Boxey's company.

Nearly four centares later Starbuck headed back to the bridge,
bringing with him what meager rations he could find as he guessed
no one had thought to feed Apollo. He arrived just in time to see
Apollo heading into his father's office followed closely by Tigh.
Rushing to catch up to them, he slipped in through the door before
it closed.  Despite his lack of invitation, no one said anything.
Apollo, seated now at the conference table, smiled gratefully at
Starbuck as he set the rations and kava down before him. Starbuck
could tell by the tension in his face that the Captain was exhausted,
both mentally and physically.

"Well?" Adama asked, looking eager despite his own exhaustion.

Apollo sighed. "It's not easy," he explained. "I don't know the
language -- it's just that some of their basic root words seem to
be in my head -- as if it's something I learned a long time ago.
Speaking with Dolmash I learned some more vocabulary -- but it's
slow going."

"Dolmash?" Tigh prompted.

"The first man I spoke to was a com-officer. Dolmash is a linguist
and an anthropologist -- he was sent for when they realized my
difficulty with the language."

"Who are they?"

"They call themselves the 'Corvalan," Apollo added a strange click
to the beginning of the word and the other three men made no attempt
to repeat it. "Their system is a republic ruled over by a Emperor.
They currently populate two of the system's planets and nine moons.
It's a large civilization -- billions I would guess."

"Billions?" Adama's eyes widened in amazement. Starbuck felt a
strange fluttering in his stomach -- billions, like they had once
had before the Cylons. "And the Cylons?"

Apollo shook his head. "Never heard of them. They've had troubles
from time to time with other alien races, but they seem to have
very strong defensive capabilities. According to Dolmash they are
slightly xenophobic, but still curious enough about the galaxy to
welcome the occasional visitor."

"Slightly xenophobic?" Tigh demanded. "What does that mean?"

"We can visit," Starbuck guessed. "We just can't stay."

Apollo nodded his agreement. "They have very strict cultural beliefs
and they don't want them changed or influenced by outside civilizations.
If we visit them, we visit under their terms."

"What about the possibility of trade?" Adama asked. "The closer we
get the more Tylium we've detected. They have vast quantities of
it on several of their moons."

"Trade isn't out of the question," Apollo explained. "Dolmash said
they can be quite generous in the right situation, but have some
very rigid protocols dealing with trade with alien races. If I
understand the story correctly, Dolmash said they had a bad experience
yahrens ago with another alien visitor. Apparently he brought a
plant from his home world that the Corvalan loved -- it grew some
sort of fruit that a popular confection is made out of. He traded
it to the Corvalan in exchange for weaponry that he claimed would
be used to liberate his people from an alien invader. Turns out he
was an outcast warlord -- he took the Corvalan's weapons, returned
to his home world, and conquered it, killing millions in the process.
The Corvalans were so horrified that they developed very strict
laws governing any further trade with outsiders."

"Then they won't willingly give us the Tylium?" Adama asked.

"I didn't say that," Apollo shook his head. "I just said we have
to play by their rules. That will require sending someone down
there to negotiate directly with their Emperor. Until he believes
we are trustworthy, he won't give us anything."

"Then they are willing to negotiate?" Tigh asked. "They'll receive
our delegation... "

"No," Apollo shook his head. "They won't accept a full delegation.
Besides, none of the council members could speak the language. I'll
have to go."

"Not alone," Adama said in alarm. Starbuck immediately echoed that
sentiment. There was no way in Hades he'd let Apollo go off by
himself to an alien world.

To all their surprise, Apollo flushed slightly at that. "No," he
agreed. "I actually can't go alone."

Surprised by his son's agreement, Adama raised his eyebrows. "What
do you mean -- can't?"

"I mentioned the strict cultural beliefs," Apollo explained. "Any
contact with them will have be conducted within the confines of
their culture not ours. Dolmash insisted that the Emperor would
not even agree to speak with me unless I followed some basic
protocols. One of which is mandatory bonded status."

"Bonded status?" Starbuck exclaimed. "But you're not sealed!"

Apollo shrugged somewhat sheepishly. "He thinks I am. All adults
are required by law to have a Dol'vetj or Lifemate. Without one
you are not legally considered a citizen -- you can't conduct
business, you can't appear in formal society, you can't consort
with other members of your peer group, you can't vote, spend money
or travel. There are only a few exemptions -- if your Dol'vetj dies
for instance, you are allowed exactly three sectares to grieve,
then three more in which to find a new Dol'vetj. And the end of
the six sectares you must be resealed or you can't remain in polite
society."

"That seems a bit extreme!" Tigh exclaimed. "What if you can't find
anyone to seal with?"

"There are no exceptions," Apollo explained. "Love has little to
do with it. Dolmash himself explained that his Dol'vetj -- his 2rd
Dol'vetj at that -- is only fourteen yahrens old."

"Fourteen!" Adama looked scandalized, staring at his son in shock.
"How can they possibly seal their children at such a young age?"

"In his case there was little choice in the matter. All Corvalans
are sealed at age sixteen, but the girl in question is the daughter
of one of Dolmash's dearest friends. The girl's father died
unexpectedly and she inherited a rather large business from him.
But being unsealed she could not legally perform her duties. Out
of respect for her father Dolmash sealed with her -- his previous
Dol'vetj had died four sectares earlier and he was in need of a
new partner himself or he'd be forced to withdraw from society."

"You said Dolmash believed you were sealed?" Adama prompted.

Apollo nodded. "I mentioned Boxey fairly early on in the conversation
-- it seemed to have put Dolmash instantly at ease. He explained
later that due to the nature and length of our conversation it
would have been illegal if I had been unsealed. I didn't bother
telling him the truth."

"Then you'll have to take someone down with you to pose as your
Lifemate," Adama nodded his understanding. "But I'm not sending
you down there without another warrior to give you back up. You
can take Sheba... "

"Sheba's down with the virus," Starbuck interrupted. "In fact half
of the squadrons are down with the virus. The only female warrior
even on her feet at the moment is Athena, and she's certainly in
no shape to go anywhere." Not to mention, Starbuck added silently
to himself, that Athena's skills as a warrior were questionable at
best -- he'd seen her latest scores on the target range.

"What about one of the bridge crew then?" Adama suggested.

"They're not warriors," Starbuck protested. "They'd be no help in
a fight. He'll just have to wait until someone is strong enough to
go with him."

But Tigh shook his head. "We can't afford to wait. We need fuel
and we need it quickly."

"And as it is the negotiations may take a while," Apollo nodded.
"The sooner I begin, the sooner we'll get results."

"But you said they wouldn't accept you without a Dol'vetj," Adama
pointed out. "If we have no female warriors... "

"Actually I could take a male warrior just easily," Apollo assured
him. "They obviously don't have any age taboos concerning Lifepartners
-- they also don't have any gender taboos. According to Dolmash
the Emperor is partnered with another male himself. They wouldn't
think twice about it. From what I understand they treat the matter
more like a business arrangement than a love match."

Starbuck grinned at the very notion, laughing softly. "Well then,
Apollo, it looks like I just became your Dol'vetj."

Adama looked highly amused himself. "So it would seem," he agreed
with nod. "Good, I'd feel safer knowing Starbuck is with you."

Surprised by the comment and deeply flattered, Starbuck could only
stare in surprise at his Commander. Apollo stood up. "Then I'll
make the arrangements. We should go quickly. The sooner we get down
there, the sooner we get back."

"Be careful, son," Adama warned. "We need that fuel, but not at
the expense of your life."

Apollo frowned at that and stared thoughtfully at his father. "If
I don't bring back that fuel," he said quietly. "It will be at the
expense of all our lives." The implication behind his words chilled
Starbuck to the bone, and he nearly protested as Apollo turned and
left the office. Adama caught Starbuck's arm before he could follow.

"Starbuck," the Commander said quietly, his voice as serious as
Apollo's had just been. "Keep an eye on him."

"Don't worry, sir," Starbuck assured him. "I'll bring him home."
Apollo wasn't dying on his watch -- not if all the galaxy stood
against them.
 _________________________________________________________________

Four centares later, Starbuck piloted a fully fueled shuttle down
to the planet while Apollo sat beside him in the co-pilot's seat
studying a cultural database Dolmash had sent him. They'd both been
warned by the techs when they'd left the hanger that the fuel
supplies were nearing critical. If anything happened to them on
the planet, if they needed Vipers to rescue them, the most the
fleet could possibly spare were two. To that end Boomer, still weak
from the virus, and Jolly, barely awake himself, had both promised
to stand by for any call for help. Both Starbuck and Apollo were
determined that would never be necessary.

Starbuck endured his wingmate's silence for about a centare before
curiosity finally got the best of him. "What has you so fascinated,
Apollo?" he demanded, glancing briefly at the portable screen his
partner was reading. He didn't recognize the strange characters on
the screen.

"Not fascinated, just trying to ensure I don't mess this up," Apollo
corrected.

"Then you can read all that?" Starbuck knew he lacked the education
Apollo had received growing up, but he was no slouch. He'd graduated
in the top of his class back at the Academy. But he knew he'd never
have any hope of deciphering the felgarcarb on that datascreen.

"Yes... no... sort of... " Apollo sighed. "Some of the characters
are familiar, some... frack!" He shook his head in disgust.

Startled, Starbuck spared his wingmate a long look. Apollo so rarely
cursed. Just wasn't in his upbringing. "What is it?"

For a moment he didn't think Apollo would answer. Then the man just
sighed and leaned back in his chair. "I don't know why I know this
stuff, Starbuck," he explained, the doubt in his voice touching
something deep inside Starbuck. There weren't many people in the
fleet that Apollo would let his guard down around; he counted
himself honored that Apollo allowed him to see him vulnerable.
"Some of it's just there in my head, and I don't know why. Even
so, I can barely make this out. And if we get down there and offend
the Corvalan, the fleet is doomed."

"We're not going to offend the Corvalan," Starbuck assured him,
though he felt no such certainty himself. He just felt confident
that somehow Apollo would pull this off. He always had managed in
the past. "Why don't you tell me what you've figured out so far."

Apollo sighed and glanced briefly at the data screen. "Well, I
already told you that all adult Corvalan have a Dol'vetj. According
to this each pair is made up of a Torfath and an Urval."

"Male and female?" Starbuck guessed and then remembered that Apollo
had already explained that gender wasn't important to their bonding
status. "Dominant and submissive?" he took another guess.

Apollo was staring hard at the screen. "No," he said thoughtfully.
"I don't think so. I think it has to do with rank. Regardless of
gender or age, the highest ranked member of the Dol'vetj is the
Urval. The Torfath always walks on the Urval's left."

Starbuck thought about that a moment. "So that makes me the Torfath
-- walk on your left side, got it. Seems easy enough. What next?"

"Generally business is always discussed between Urvals -- and there
seems to be about ten pages of protocol here if it becomes necessary
to stray from that pattern."

"Well, since I don't speak the languages, I don't think that's
going to be a problem. You'll be doing all the negotiating. So you
can probably skip all those pages."

"Not really," Apollo sighed. "Because of the language barrier it
will be necessary for Dolmash to sit in on all my negotiations with
their leaders -- and despite the age difference Dolmash is the
Torfath in his relationship. The girl he's sealed to holds a higher
rank that he does."

"Do what the other Urvals do then," Starbuck suggested. "I'm sure
Dolmash will help you out if you make any mistakes. They can't
expect your etiquette to be perfect."

"I suppose not," Apollo nodded. "But the basics have to be there
-- Dolmash was insistent on that. We have to follow their most
basic customs or this negotiation is off."

"Any idea why they place such importance on bonded status?" A few
of the colonies had stronger views than others, but none that he
knew of made bonded status mandatory. He found the idea strange.

"Religious reasons," Apollo explained. "Though I haven't begun to
decipher their religions -- but they have a very strong belief in
the duality of the universe."

"So being unbonded would offend them on both a cultural and religious
basis." Starbuck shook his head, understanding now why the normally
painfully honest Captain had decided to lie about his status.

"As the Torfath you'll be expected to associate with the other
Torfaths -- I suspect they'll give the grand tour of the place
while I'm in negotiations."

Starbuck grinned at that. "Sounds fun! Though I don't think I'm
going to have much luck making friends when I don't speak the
language."

For some reason that comment caused Apollo to turn toward him
sharply, a warning look in his eyes. "Starbuck, whatever you do,
don't flirt!"

"Flirt!" Starbuck laughed at that. "Me? I never flirt!"

"Starbuck!" Apollo's sounded seriously worried, and Starbuck found
it hilarious that of all the things his Captain could be worried
about that was it.

"Ladies just like me, Pol," he teased. "Can I help it if I'm
irresistible? You worried that I'll tarnish your good reputation
-- a flirtatious Lifepartner?"

"Starbuck, adultery is punishable by death on Corvalan."

That effectively stifled his hilarity and Starbuck shot his friend
a look of alarm. "What? Are you kidding me? They'd actually put a
person to death for cheating on their Lifepartner?" He himself
found the very idea dishonorable, and he knew if he ever made the
decision to actually bond with someone he'd be faithful -- but
death seemed a bit extreme even to him.

"No, Starbuck," Apollo shook his head, but Starbuck's relief was
shortly lived. "They put the two adulterers to death as well as
both their Lifepartners."

Starbuck stared at his friend in shock. "What?" He couldn't believe
what Apollo had just told him. "But their Lifepartners would be
innocent of any wrong!"

"Doesn't matter," Apollo replied. "That's their law. Needless to
say, adultery is practically unheard of. We don't know what they
would consider as acceptable flirtation, and any punishment you
incur, I will suffer as well."

"Apollo!" Starbuck glared at his friend. "You can trust me! You
know I would never do anything to endanger you or the mission."

"I know," Apollo nodded, and Starbuck allowed himself to be mollified
by the gentle smile on his friend's face. "I'm just suggesting that
you... turn down that... irresistible charm of yours."

Pleased that Apollo had resorted to teasing him to ease the tension,
Starbuck laughed. "Well, I'll do my best," he promised.
 _________________________________________________________________

It took them nearly four centares to reach the main planet even at
full speed. Starbuck had tried to convince Apollo to catch a few
centares sleep, but Apollo had refused, insisting he continue
studying the language and cultural database. Starbuck just sighed,
despairing of ever getting his friend to take proper care of himself.
He looked tired, and the constant worry in his eyes didn't belong
in someone so young. But then perhaps being planet bound would be
good for him -- fresh air and sunshine. They all needed a long dose
of that.

Upon reaching the planet, they were put through some maneuvers to
get their shuttle fitted properly in a decontamination hanger, and
then the two of them were forced to sit inside an isolation chamber
while extensive scans were taken of them to ensure they were carrying
nothing that might infect the population. Eventually however they
were released and Apollo and Starbuck stepped out onto the Corvalan
home world for the first time.

They were greeted immediately by a group of natives all standing
in pairs, Dolmash and his Lifemate Breeanth first to introduce
themselves. The Corvalans were nearly human looking -- a bit taller
than an average human, larger boned -- stronger Starbuck suspected.
But the most noticeable difference about them was their coloring
-- amongst the colonist they had only a few different skin shadings.
The Corvalans had hundreds -- every color of the rainbow as far as
Starbuck could determine -- all of them distinct with mottled
patterns that marked even their hair. Truth was they reminded him
of birds, colorfully plumed, and he couldn't help wondering if
those intricate patterns that decorated their skin and hair had
special cultural significance -- did it identify certain clans or
tribes, determine their station in life -- or was it all merely
pretty to look at?

Though he didn't speak the language, he could tell by their reactions
that the Corvalans were startled by their appearance, but found
their one-toned skin and hair quite exotic. They seemed to discuss
it at great length and eventually Starbuck saw a tell-tale blush
in Apollo's face -- someone had obviously just complimented his
looks -- something his friend had never been comfortable with.
Starbuck did note that despite the obvious compliment he could
detect nothing even remotely flirtatious or sexual in the way the
Corvalans were discussing them -- apparently such comments were
acceptable behavior.

Eventually Apollo turned toward Starbuck and introduced him to the
others. He caught as many names as he could, trying to commit them
to memory, but so many of them had the strange clicking sound mixed
in with them that he doubted he'd be able to repeat them back. He
simply smiled instead and tried to be as friendly as possible under
the circumstances. Whatever he did it satisfied the Corvalans and
they motioned them to follow them toward a enormous building that
Starbuck suspected was the Emperor's palace.

He fell immediately in step beside his Captain, careful to always
remain on Apollo's left side as he'd been instructed. He quickly
noted however that one more detail had been overlooked -- the
Corvalans were all holding hands. He immediately reached over and
caught hold of Apollo's left hand. He felt his friend stiffen
slightly, but made no move to throw off his grasp. Instead he simply
shot Starbuck a brief glance and a barely imperceptible nod indicating
that he too had noticed the custom.

Starbuck tried not to smile -- Apollo had always been uncomfortable
with any sort of public display of affection, a trait not uncommon
among all Capricans. In all the yahrens Starbuck had known him, he
could only recall a handful of times where even his own father had
touched Apollo in public. And now to be expected to hold hands in
public -- to hold hands with his wingmate in public! Starbuck
suspected this diplomatic mission was going to try Apollo's patience
to its very end. He squeezed his friend's hand encouragingly, trying
not to laugh, and was rewarded with yet another faint blush to the
Captain's cheeks. This story alone would earn Starbuck free ambrosa
back on the fleet for sectons!

They were taken into a beautiful, elaborate hall that reminded
Starbuck of the museums he'd visited with Apollo's family back on
Caprica -- all filled with priceless artwork, gold and glitter.
There they were greeted again by nearly a hundred pairs of Corvalans
-- so many colors and patterns present that Starbuck honestly didn't
know where to look. Eventually they were introduced to the Emperor
and his Dol'vetj -- both men younger than Starbuck had expected,
maybe only ten yahrens older than Apollo and himself. He also
learned why their own coloring had caused such a stir -- both
Emperor Va'shtle and his Dol'vetj Marshent had nearly uniform
coloring. The Emperor's patterns were all varying shades of green,
while Marshent's were all pale blue -- not as uniform or as solid
as their own pale skin, but certainly more uniform than the rest
of the Corvalans. Apparently such coloring was a mark of high beauty
in their culture.

They spoke at length to Apollo, perhaps going through some elaborate
greeting ritual that their customs demanded. Eventually Dolmash
and Breeanth escorted them from the room and led them upstairs to
some rather opulent guest quarters. During the walk upward Apollo
gripped Starbuck's hand harder than he had before. Starbuck could
tell by the coldness of his friend's skin that he was severely
stressed. He had to admire Apollo -- no hint of his concern showed
in his face. Dolmash spoke further to Apollo, seeming well pleased
by the way things had gone. Then he and Breeanth excused themselves
and left the two of them alone in the guest quarters.

Apollo let out his breath in heavy sigh of relief, releasing
Starbuck's hand as he dropped exhaustedly into one of the plush
chairs provided to them.

"What's wrong?" Starbuck asked immediately.

"They speak so fast," Apollo despaired. "I only caught one out of
every fifth word the Emperor was saying! How am I going to negotiate
with these people when I can't understand them?"

"You did fine, Pol," Starbuck assured him. "They looked pleased by
our presence. I didn't see one frown out of any of them."

"Maybe they don't frown in public," Apollo grumbled. "For all I
know we may have insulted their gods and started a riot."

Starbuck laughed at the thought. "I doubt that. Dolmash is outspoken
enough -- he would have said something to you."

Apollo shrugged, though seemed to concede the point. "He did say
the Emperor looked favorably upon us -- whatever that's supposed
to mean.  We've been invited to a T'skoskt tonight."

"A what?" Starbuck, in the process of looking over the rooms they'd
been given, paused to glance back at his friend. Apollo had pulled
the handheld datascreen from out of the inner pocket of his flight
jacket and was busy searching it.

"I think it's a formal dinner party," Apollo explained; he frowned
suddenly. "Lords! There's over forty pages worth of customs listed
here relating to a T'skoskt! They hate me!"

Starbuck laughed, remembering all the times he'd said the same
thing to Apollo. Whenever he'd been invited to a formal occasion
by Adama or Siress Ila, he'd always made a fuss and went on the
assumption that he was being punished for his misspent youth. Formal
etiquette, formal attire -- he'd always felt so horribly out of
place. If it hadn't been for Apollo he doubted very much he would
have survived those events without making a total fool of himself.

"They gave us nice rooms," Starbuck pointed out, noting that their
packs had been brought from the decontamination unit and placed
against one wall. "They can't hate you too much."

Indeed the rooms were nice -- a separate sitting area, and an
enormous washroom which held the largest bath and turbowash Starbuck
had ever seen. And the bedroom boasted an enormous curtained bed
on a raised dais and a balcony that looked out over a lush garden.
"We'll have to share a bed though -- I guess maybe they do hate
you."

That made Apollo smile and he shot his friend a rueful look. "Let
me guess, you kick?"

But Starbuck just shook his head. "I steal the blankets. You'll
freeze tonight."

"Just so long as you don't kick," Apollo grinned. "I had to share
a bed a time or two with Zac when we were kids. He kicked. Hard."
A sad wistful smile touched his lips and he shook his head. Starbuck
knew he was thinking of his long lost brother and he felt a familiar
ache in his heart -- he should have been on patrol that day. He's
the one who should have been dead, not Zac, and his punishment for
allowing that boy to take his place was that look of pain he saw
now in Apollo's green eyes. That look wounded him more than any
Cylon attack ever had.  He took a step toward him, intent on offering
comfort, but Apollo closed himself off as he always did and turned
his attention back to the datascreen in his hand.

Starbuck cursed softly under his breath and turned away -- Apollo
would be the first to offer comfort or sympathy at a sign of grief
from someone else. But he would see it as a sign of weakness to
display such grief himself. He wouldn't talk about it -- not about
Zac, not about his mother, and not about Serina.

Starbuck took the time to call the Galactica on his com-unit,
reporting their status to Colonel Tigh, and promising to keep them
informed of their progress. He tried to get Apollo to rest, but
forgoing that, talked him instead into taking a long bath -- a
luxury no one on the Galactica had enjoyed in a long time. The
Captain looked more relaxed when he emerged from the turbowash and
Starbuck took his turn, feeling positively sinful as he soaked in
the tub. When he finished he changed into his formal uniform guessing
that such attire would be expected at their dinner party tonight.

The sun was nearly setting by the time he emerged, and he saw that
Apollo too had changed into his formal uniform. He paused momentarily
to admire his friend. Apollo, unlike him, had always looked relaxed
in the more formal uniform -- he wore it well, like any of the
young nobility of Caprica would be expected to. But the look of
baffled worry in his eyes suggested to Starbuck that this was one
dinner party where Apollo would not breeze through on instinct
alone.

"Problems?" Starbuck asked as he straightened his own cape.

"These customs!" Apollo shook his head. "As near as I can figure
you'll be expected to sit at my left again -- and we'll be expected
to share a plate."

"Share a plate -- same fork?"

Apollo thought about that for a moment and then shrugged. "It
doesn't say. But as the Torfath you have the right to determine
what actually goes on the plate."

Starbuck smiled in amusement at that. "A Torfath who was mad at
his Urval could have some fun with that."

Several emotions flashed through Apollo's green eyes.

Starbuck just sighed and shook his head. "Don't worry, Apollo. I'm
not going to poison you. You worry too much."

"You'd worry too if you were reading this. I can't decipher half
this stuff. As the Urval I'm supposed to drink something called
Mookta every time the highest ranking Torfath in the room drinks."

"The highest ranking Torfath would be the Emperor's partner, right?"
Starbuck reasoned.

"I hope so," Apollo frowned.

"So does that mean you can only drink when he drinks, or just that
you have to drink when he drinks in addition to anything else you
might want to drink?"

"I...  Apollo stared hard at the datascreen in his hand. "I don't
know... frack, I didn't even think of that!"

"Apollo, calm down! Just watch the other Urvals in the room and do
what they do. When they drink, you drink. What else?"

Apollo sighed. "I'm not sure. I think several pages here refer to
the order in which certain foods are supposed to be eaten, but
since I haven't a clue what these foods are anyway, there's no way
I can figure it out. We'll just have to hope it's obvious from the
way they serve us. We're also supposed to participate in something
called the Thean'd -- which I think is a way of giving thanks for
the meal -- but I'm not certain if we're thanking our host, or
their gods."

"Well, what is this Thean'd," Starbuck prompted. "What does it
entail?"

"Spitting..." Apollo shook his head and glared at the screen.  "Or
kissing."

Starbuck began laughing in mirth. "There's a big difference between
the two, Apollo!" he grinned. "Which is it?"

"I don't know!" Apollo looked completely at a loss. "I don't know
what these words are."

"Would you quit worrying so much!" Starbuck exclaimed. "We'll just
do what everyone else does. I do it all the time."

Apollo looked up at that. "Spit?"

Rolling his eyes in exasperation, Starbuck just shook his head.
"Do what everyone else does. All those formal dinners I went to
with your family -- you don't honestly think that a no-name orphan
had a clue which fork to use, or which glass to drink from, do you?
I just watched you and Athena and did whatever you did. I'm a master
at it.  Had you all fooled. Remember that night your father invited
us to play Quints with Sire Theseus and Sire Andros?"

Apollo frowned. "Yes, if I remember correctly, you weren't very
good at Quints. Kept losing to Sire Andros."

"Apollo, I wasn't very good because I didn't know how to play. I'd
never even seen a Quints set prior to that -- but it was obviously
something your peers thought highly of and I didn't want to embarrass
you or your father with my ignorance."

"You can't bluff your way through Quints!" Apollo insisted.

"Correction -- you can't bluff your way through Quints and expect
to win. But you can bluff your way through Quints. If you're
desperate enough, you can bluff your way through just about anything."

Apollo leaned back in his chair and stared at him for a long moment.
Starbuck smiled, wondering what was going through his friend's
mind.  He rather expected some comment about his unsavory habits,
or his dubious upbringing. What he got was quite the opposite and
it touched a deep, secret place inside him that waited for these
moments and horded them like treasures. "You never embarrassed any
of us, Starbuck. You never could have. You were always welcome
amongst us."

It was Starbuck's turned to blush -- not in embarrassment, but in
pleasure, and he lowered his gaze to hide his pleased smile. "See,
told you I had you all fooled," he teased softly, lightening the
mood as much as he could.

Apollo just smiled and shook his head. "So you really think you
can figure out how we can bluff our way through this tonight?"

"Yes," Starbuck insisted. "We'll be fine. And if we have spit or
kiss or belch or stand on our heads to praise their gods, we'll
figure it out. How hard can it be? It's a dinner party! They're
supposed to be fun."

He saw the moment the fear reentered Apollo's eyes. "But if we mess
this one up, Starbuck, the whole fleet suffers."

"Then we won't mess it up!" Starbuck promised him. "Trust me. Come
on, Pol, when you and I work together when have we ever screwed
up?"

Apollo was spared from answering by the sharp knock at their door.
Both men stood. "Show time," Starbuck told him. "Trust me."

Apollo just nodded and went to answer the door.

Trust me, he'd said. As Starbuck, dutifully on Apollo's left,
followed Dolmash and Breeanth to the dining hall, he could only
hope that he could keep his word to his wingmate. He didn't feel
half as confident as he'd let on, but better for him to worry than
Apollo. Apollo had too many other things on his mind as it was --
he could see the strain of all this in wingmate's eyes, and in the
way he held himself so stiffly. The pressure he was under had to
be unbearable.

Starbuck could feel the pressure as well, but he didn't also have
to contend with learning a new language on top of it. No one here
expected him to speak a word of Corvalan. Truthfully, it proved a
blessing -- while Apollo was forced to concentrate on the words
the Corvalans were speaking, Starbuck was able to focus on the
Corvalans themselves. Body language sometimes said more than words
did -- he could observe his surroundings in ways that Apollo could
not, distracted as he was by the language.

The dining hall was set for a large feast, a long low table already
laden down with food and drink. And a large crowd of Corvalans,
dressed in finery that if anything was even more colorful than they
were, had already gathered to celebrate. Apollo and Starbuck were
led to a place about midway down the long table, and were directed
to be seated on the thick cushions provided. Both men, feeling
somewhat awkward at the odd seating arrangements -- there wasn't
a chair in sight -- took their place with as much grace as they
could manage.  Their action seemed to be a signal for the others
around them to also be seated.

A few moments later the Emperor and his Lifemate entered the hall
and moved to their own seats at the end of the long table. Far from
rising at the entrance of the Emperor, all the Corvalans instead
leaned forward in a low bow, nearly resting their foreheads on the
table.  Starbuck and Apollo quickly followed suit.

Starbuck took a moment to study the plate arrangement before them,
keeping an eye on those around him so that he'd know when he was
supposed to load it up. Two forks he noted -- he almost laughed at
that, he'd been worried that he might be expected to actually feed
Apollo. He doubted he'd ever hear the end of that. Two goblets as
well, and he wondered which of the heavy decanters of drink on the
table contained the fabled Mookta.

He didn't have long to wait to find out -- servants emerged from
the corridors, moving swiftly around the table to fill all the
goblets with a thick clear liquid. When all the goblet were filled,
the servants took up positions along the walls, decanters still in
hand.  Starbuck suspected they were responsible for keeping the
Mookta flowing through the night.

The meal began with a toast from the Emperor's Dol'vetj. Following
the others, both Apollo and Starbuck raised their goblets as they
saw everyone else do. They listened dutifully to Marshent's words,
and then drank when everyone else did. The clear liquid burned all
the way down, and Starbuck had to fight not to cough. Not ambrosa
-- stronger than anything he'd tasted before -- but most definitely
alcoholic in nature. He shot a worried glance at Apollo. If the
drink affected him so strongly, he could only imagine what it would
do to his wingmate -- Apollo rarely drank. He had the occasional
bottle of grog in the officer's club, and the rare glass of ambrosa
at special events -- but beyond that, little else. He'd been raised
in a family that frowned at excesses.

A faint flush touched Apollo's cheeks, and he saw the Captain
swallowing almost painfully, closing his eyes momentarily to fight
back the sting that must burn them. But he composed himself quickly,
and with a grace Starbuck couldn't help but admire.

"Small sips," he whispered to his friend, wondering how the man
would be able to manage to drink that all night. He could only hope
Marshent wasn't fond of the stuff.

Apollo just nodded in agreement, shooting a cautious look toward
the end of the table. From the looks of the smile on Marshent's
face, he found the Mookta quite enjoyable. The faint look of
resignation that crossed Apollo's face made Starbuck smile and he
set aside his own glass of Mookta in favor of water. Someone had
to stay sober -- he wouldn't leave Apollo defenseless.

Other servants entered then carrying an assortment of foods on
large golden trays. One knelt down beside Apollo and Starbuck,
offering the tray for Starbuck's approval. With the possible
exception of some fruit, Starbuck was unable to identify any of
the foods on the tray -- save to say that they were all pale yellow
in color. He wondered if that would be the order of the night --
color-coded food selections? This, he suspected, would simply be
the first in a long line of courses.

Remembering that it was his decision as to what went on the plate
before the two of them, he picked the most harmless looking of
dishes, hoping they'd meet with Apollo's approval. Guessing they'd
have plenty to eat throughout the night, he chose fairly small
helpings, and then smiled at the servant to indicate he was finished.
The servant, a young purple-haired boy, just grinned and nodded
and moved off.

Starbuck glanced around the room. The others had begun eating
already, with obvious enjoyment. There were mounds of assorted
breads and nuts on the table before him. Noticing that most people
had taken some of those as well, Starbuck took a few bread rolls
and a handful of nuts to add to the plate. He shot a glance at
Apollo. "So far so good," he informed him, then noticed that all
the Urvals at the table had once again reached for the Mookta. He
nudged Apollo and the Captain quickly followed suit, glancing once
again at the end of the table where Marshent was drinking from his
glass.

Starbuck tried a few of the items on the plate, relieved when the
flavors proved quite pleasant. "You'd better eat plenty, Pol,"
Starbuck urged. "Try the bread as well -- it'll help keep you
sober."

"I hope he slows down," Apollo murmured back. "I'm not a good
drinker." An unnecessary statement, and both of them knew it --
Starbuck could only surmise that his friend was nervous. He watched
in silence as Apollo exchanged some words with the couple across
from them, speaking the strange language as best as he was able.
It was odd watching him talk, speaking words there was no way he
should know.  Starbuck couldn't help wondering what else had happened
to him in that Ship of Lights -- what other knowledge had those
beings put into his friend's head.

Twice more Marshent drank from his glass and Starbuck noted that
Apollo wasn't the only one careful to take small sips of the Mookta.
Several words were exchanged with those sitting closest to them --
an older male and female on their right, Dolmash and Breeanth on
their left, two women across from them. Apollo laughed at whatever
they said and turned to Starbuck. "They said that I needn't worry
about the Mookta -- unlike something else called Vrenta it won't
cause a severe hangover come morning."

"All the drink you want and no hangover -- how lucky can you get?"
Starbuck replied, grinning to those around them. They didn't
understand his words of course, but made the assumption that he
was saying something funny. They all smiled and continued laughing
amongst themselves.

It wasn't until the first course was nearly finished that Starbuck
and Apollo finally figured out what the Thean'd was -- not spitting.
Apollo had gotten that interpretation quite wrong. As the servants
began clearing away the first course and bringing out the second
course, the two of them watched in shock as the Corvalans gave
thanks for their meal by kissing their Dol'vetjs. They seem to do
it quite naturally -- the older couples with more decorum, the
younger couples with great enthusiasm.

Starbuck recovered far more quickly than his wingmate -- poor Apollo
who'd lived all his life with the belief that such displays were
not done in public. Starbuck noted only that the Emperor and his
Dol'vetj had paused momentarily in their moment of thanks to glance
in their direction. It was all the impetus Starbuck needed. He
didn't think, simply reached out and caught hold of Apollo's chin,
turning his face toward him.

He noticed that his friend's face had gone surprisingly blank,
cheeks pale, green eyes almost glazed over in disbelief as it
finally dawned on him just 'who' exactly he'd be expected to kiss.
Then Starbuck's mouth was on his, kissing him gently, doing his
damned best to make it look realistic enough without taking any
liberties that Apollo might not be able to forgive him for later.
A simple thing, not quick, but not lingering either -- just his
mouth pressed softly against the cool smoothness of Apollo's lips,
and a soft caress of his fingers against Apollo's cheek as a
distraction of authenticity to anyone who might be watching them.

In a thousand yahrens he never would have guessed that he'd find
himself one day on an alien world kissing his best friend in a room
full of strangers. Nor would he have ever guessed the speed with
which his heart would be pounding -- had it pounded so fiercely
for Cassiopeia? At the moment, he couldn't remember. Fear, he
suspected -- fear of the unknown, of being found out in their lie,
of failing the fleet, of failing Apollo when he'd promised to get
him through this night. Or perhaps just fear of the disgust he
dreaded seeing in Apollo's eyes.

He ended the kiss and forced himself to look -- forced himself to
look into those green eyes. They were no longer glazed over, nor
did he see the disgust he'd so feared -- rather Apollo looked
stunned, his eyes flashing emotions Starbuck couldn't hope to read.
He looked far too expressive, far too vulnerable. "Pol," Starbuck
whispered in warning.

Apollo recovered immediately, lowering his lashes and hiding his
eyes as he bowed his head with a gesture that could so easily be
taken for shyness. Starbuck risked a glance at the Emperor and saw
that the man was smiling at the two of them, seeming pleased by
their actions.

"Star?" Apollo's voice was so soft, but filled with a wary question.
Starbuck knew immediately what he was asking.

"It's all right," he assured him. "They bought it. The Emperor is
smiling."

Starbuck felt Apollo's sigh of relief; his breath was warm against
his skin. Then Marshent began drinking the Mookta again and the
second course -- reddish in coloring -- was served.

He wouldn't think about it, he decided as the second course was
eaten -- wouldn't think about the fact that he'd kissed his best
friend.  Maybe a yahren or so from now when this was all just a
memory, the two of them could crack some jokes about this and then
it would be nothing more than a footnote in their long history
together. But after several more rounds of the Mookta, and the
ending of the second course, Starbuck realized that this wasn't a
one shot deal. The Thean'd apparent continued throughout the duration
of the meal. The Corvalans began giving thanks again, and Starbuck
steeled himself for round two.

Apollo turned toward him more willingly this time -- no longer
caught completely off guard. But he could tell by the look in the
Captain's eyes that the man was about as close to panic as he ever
came. Knowing he had to ease the tension somehow, let Apollo know
that it was going to be all right, Starbuck searched for some words
of reassurance. He thought of all the things he could say, the
joking comments he could make about how he'd passed up a perfect
opportunity with Sheba here.  He dismissed them all and settled
instead on something he knew would snap some perspective back into
his wingmate's head.

"Could be worse," he reminded him. "You could have brought Athena."
Then he kissed him again, more firmly this time, for he found that
Apollo's lips felt surprisingly pleasant against his own -- yet
another fact that he resolved not to think about for a long time
to come.

Apollo was in full blush this time when they parted, and Starbuck
just grinned and winked at him. The helpless laugh that escaped
Apollo's lips assured Starbuck that he'd said exactly the right
thing. Kissing your best friend, even if he was male, was infinitely
preferable to kissing your sister.

The Mookta continued flowing -- Marshent proving to be quite fond
of the stuff -- and the courses kept coming. Starbuck watched the
proceedings as he was unable to participate in the conversations;
he concluded that perhaps there was some wisdom to the Mookta
drinking.  The Emperor was able to remain as sober as he choose,
but was afforded the opportunity of watching the highest-ranking
people in his court get drunk. By the end of the night Starbuck
suspected there wouldn't be many opinions kept secret among the
courtiers; they became more and more outspoken as the night
progressed.

Consequently the Thean'd changed and shifted as the night progressed,
lasting longer and breaking from the confinements of those brief
moments between courses. And as it expanded, private matters between
couples were no longer quite so private. A gold and green couple
a few seats down from Apollo and Starbuck were obviously having
some personal difficulties, hardly even looking at each other as
they kissed one another with barely controlled contempt. A few of
the younger couples became so enthusiastic in their thanks that it
bordered on obscene and Starbuck wondered what would happen if they
lost total control -- just how far would the Corvalan customs allow
two people to go in public?

Breeanth and Dolmash's relationship proved to be quite telling as
well -- they were obviously quite fond of each other, but it became
evident that Breeanth was too young for there to be any true
chemistry between the two of them. Breeanth, the Urval in their
relationship, quickly became drunk and spent most of the night
giggling. Dolmash endured it all with sort of pained expression on
his face as he tried to keep his young Dol'vetj from falling face
forward into her plate.

And as for Apollo -- he drank as little Mookta as he could get away
with, but eventually the drink overcame even his stoic control.
Still Starbuck had little fear that the man would do anything
outrageous -- drink lowered one's inhibitions, but Apollo's reserve
wasn't really an inhibition; it was simply his nature. He relaxed
somewhat, smiled more easily, and laughed more freely. And after
the third or fourth kiss, he seemed to lose his fear of the Thean'd.
He relaxed completely into the fifth kiss, and volunteered the next
one with an enthusiasm that caught Starbuck completely off guard.

Starbuck's heart was racing when he kissed Apollo the seventh time,
and when he felt his friend's lips part beneath his he found he
couldn't resist the invitation. Apollo's lips tasted far sweeter
than he'd ever dreamed and Starbuck slipped his tongue in deeper
to taste the heat inside. The thrill that shot through him when
Apollo returned his deep caress went straight to his heart, and
the soft moan that escaped Apollo went straight to his groin.
Starbuck gasped at the sensation and instead of ending the kiss as
he should have, found himself pulling Apollo closer to him to deepen
it further. And when, he wondered, had his hand ended up in Apollo's
dark hair, the other resting against the curve of Apollo's throat,
stroking the soft skin he found there, noting almost absently the
fast pulse beating beneath heated flesh.

When at last they did part, Apollo just sighed and leaned against
Starbuck, as if he found it too much work to bother sitting up
again on his own. Starbuck, one arm now around his Captain, holding
him propped up against his shoulder, studied the man's face. His
eyes were unfocused, courtesy of the Mookta, and his skin was
flushed, his lips red and swollen from Starbuck's kisses. Starbuck
couldn't recall ever seeing his friend in such a state, and discovered
that he found the sight remarkably beautiful.

He'd always thought Apollo quite handsome -- he would have had to
be blind not to notice the admiring looks he always drew. But the
beauty of the man -- his compassion, his fierce bravery, his loyalty
and friendship -- that had always been an abstract concept that
touched Starbuck's heart and soul. He would have never allowed the
thought to move into a sexual realm and risk the possibility of
destroying their friendship. It had never mattered -- Starbuck
generally preferred women, his misspent youth notwithstanding --
so such a risk had never existed. Until now.

He stared down at his friend with a sense of pained melancholy,
noting absently that he was still stroking Apollo's dark hair.
Apollo sighed and leaned into his caress -- the lowering of his
inhibitions simply seeming to awaken a craving for the physical
affection he'd been denied most of his life. Starbuck could only
hope that the Mookta would mercifully make the night's events hazy
and difficult to remember. Otherwise he feared he'd lose his friend
over this. He'd promised Apollo he'd look out for him, guard his
back; instead he'd taken advantage of him when he'd been forced to
become drunk. But Starbuck had never been good at resisting
temptation, and this temptation was sweeter than any he'd yet faced.

Marshent drank again and Starbuck helped Apollo steady his goblet
as he took his own sip. Apollo giggled slightly as he set the cup
down, and then seemed to forget the order of things as he reached
out and pulled Starbuck's head down toward him, kissing him almost
aggressively. Starbuck just groaned softly and returned the kiss,
sucking Apollo's tongue into his mouth and devouring him thoroughly.
And when he was done and Apollo was quite breathless, Starbuck
gently kissed his forehead in apology, wondering what price he
would pay for these liberties.

He took a moment to glance around the room, noting that most of
the Urvals and some few of the Torfaths were too drunk for there
to be much more hope of intelligent conversation this night. His
eyes fell on the female couple across from him and he noticed with
some shock that the Urval had her hand inside the open bodice of
her Torfath's dress. He sensed rather than saw that Apollo too had
noticed the intimate caresses, and drunk or not he felt his friend
stiffen in his arms.

The two women looked up, meeting both their gazes, and they smiled
at the attention they'd drawn. Under other circumstances Starbuck
knew he'd find this situation eminently pleasant -- not every day
he got to watch two beautiful females love one another. But he
found himself quickly distracted by the man in his arms; to his
utter surprise Apollo had looked away from the women and buried
his face against Starbuck's neck. The heat of his breath against
his skin nearly made Starbuck melt at the sensation.

And then another sensation -- one that made him groan as the heat
pooled in his groin -- warm lips moving against his skin, a soft
tongue tasting, licking, the gentle scrape of teeth. Starbuck's
arms tightened around Apollo -- Lords! Apollo was kissing his neck,
and he didn't want the sensation to stop.

"Starbuck," the heat from Apollo's breath against his ear sent
shivers down Starbuck's spine -- and then briefly he felt the gentle
bite of teeth against his earlobe. "Starbuck, I feel funny." Apollo's
words were slightly slurred and that more than anything woke Starbuck
up. He stilled, waiting for more. "I'm floating..." Apollo murmured.
"I feel... hot... light..." He sighed against Starbuck's ear and
let his head momentarily lie on his shoulder before he grew restless
again and reached up to stroke Starbuck's face and hair, as if
desperate for the tactile sensation.

Starbuck shot a quick look around the room, suspecting suddenly
that the Mookta had something more than just alcoholic properties.
Even the green and gold couple who obviously disliked one another
had grown more amorous throughout the evening. "Frack," he whispered
under his breath. An aphrodisiac. Bad enough that he'd taken
advantage of a drunken Apollo -- this was truly unforgivable!

"Apollo," he whispered urgently, trying to get his friend's attention.
Apollo focused a blurred gaze on him. "I think the Mookta is an
aph..." he stuttered over his words as Apollo unexpectedly reached
up and traced his lips with his fingers. It took Starbuck a moment
to re-form his thoughts, unable to focus on much else besides the
touch of his friend's caress. "I think that the Mookta is an
aphrodisiac," he explained.

Apollo gave him a silly smile. "Is that why your mouth tastes so
sweet?" His words struck Starbuck hard, more because of how badly
they were slurred rather than the sharp spike of pleasure the
thought behind them gave him -- Apollo was drunk, drunker than he'd
ever seen him, and under the influence of an alien drug.

"Probably," he agreed with a regretful sigh.

Apollo giggled then, and nuzzled Starbuck's neck once more. "Really
glad I didn't bring 'thena," he murmured.

The heat of Apollo's breath against his skin sent shivers through
Starbuck's body, and he closed his eyes in unwilling pleasure.
"Maybe, but tomorrow you're going to be kicking yourself that you
didn't bring Sheba." Starbuck just hoped that come tomorrow the
Captain wouldn't also be kicking him.

"No," Apollo replied, one hand playing with the longer locks of
gold hair at the nape of Starbuck's neck. "Don't trust Sheba. Trust
you."

"Oh, Sagan," Starbuck whispered, praying that Apollo would still
trust him after the Mookta wore off. And then the dessert was being
served and Apollo wrapped his arms around Starbuck, pulling him
closer, mouth seeking out his, and Starbuck gave into temptation
again, taking what he expected might be the last kiss his friend
would ever give him willingly.

As luck would have it Marshent, while fond of the Mookta, couldn't
hold it any better than anyone else. He and the Emperor left before
the dessert was half finished, and that signaled everyone else to
make their way out of there. Dolmash, holding up a barely conscious
Breeanth, called a guard over to help lead Starbuck back to the
quarters provided the two of them. He said something to Starbuck,
but Starbuck just shook his head in apology indicating that he
didn't understand. And Apollo unfortunately was too drunk to
translate anything further. Dolmash finally just smiled and nodded
his head, indicating that Starbuck should just take Apollo to the
room.

Gratefully to be leaving at last, Starbuck walked Apollo through
the palace corridors, following the Corvalan guard. Apollo, held
up mostly by the arm he had draped over Starbuck's shoulder, sang
softly to himself as he staggered alongside of him, seeming quite
removed from their surroundings. To Starbuck's surprise his Captain
had a remarkably good singing voice -- a talent Apollo had hidden
from him all these yahrens. He recognized the tune as something
that had been popular on Caprica several yahrens ago -- rather sad
to think that the singer that had made it famous was long dead with
so many other millions back on the world they had lost.

The guard opened the door for Starbuck, nodding to him in farewell
once Starbuck entered. Starbuck shut and locked the door behind
them, then caught Apollo before he slid down the wall to the floor.
"Come on, Apollo," Starbuck urged, moving his friend toward the
bed. "Let's get you to bed before you pass out."

"Where'd everyone go?" Apollo asked him in confusion as Starbuck
sat him down on the edge of the bed and began removing his boots.

"Party's over," Starbuck explained, trying to ignore the fact that
Apollo was playing with his hair, his fingers occasionally stroking
the top of Starbuck's left ear.

"Did we have fun?" Apollo almost sounded disappointed at the turn
of events.

Boots off, Starbuck began undoing Apollo's holster next. "Let's
just say we broke a lot of regulations," Starbuck informed him,
thinking of there was probably a rule somewhere forbidding lieutenants
from getting their Strike Captains doped up on alien drugs and
taking advantage of them.

"Your kind of fun," Apollo laughed at that.

Startled, Starbuck glanced up at his friend, noting the flushed
cheeks and the still kiss-swollen lips. He wondered if he should
be more concerned about the unfocused look in Apollo's eyes.
Impulsively he reached out and placed two fingers against Apollo's
throat, taking note of his pulse -- it felt steady, slow but steady
enough. Apollo giggled as if his touch tickled him and caught hold
of Starbuck's hand. To his surprise the Captain raised his hand to
his lips and kissed his palm, then he held Starbuck's palm against
his cheek and sighed into the caress, eyes closing.

"Apollo?" Starbuck gently shook the man, trying to get his attention.
"Apollo?"

Only slowly did Apollo's eyes open, and then reluctantly. They were
still unfocused and Starbuck wondered if he was even really aware
of where he was or what he was doing any more. "Do you feel all
right?"

"Hot," Apollo murmured. "I feel hot." Starbuck raised his free hand
to Apollo's forehead. He was warm, but not unusually so, so he
doubted he was running a fever. "Let's get that uniform off you,"
he decided, trying not to think of the other implications behind
such a statement.  To his relief, Apollo didn't seem to really care
one way or another -- aphrodisiac or not, Apollo was a bit on the
innocent side as far as Starbuck could tell.

Quickly he began stripping his friend, pulling off the dress uniform
as swiftly and efficiently as possible. Apollo made no protest --
didn't really seem to notice. Starbuck noticed, however; he couldn't
really help noticing the hard muscle moving beneath pale, firm
skin.  He'd seen it before of course, seen all of that skin before.
Lords knew their Triad uniforms left little to the imagination,
but after yahrens of communal living, showering together, going
through decontamination together, regular medical checkups, he'd
seen Apollo unclothed countless times. For that matter he could
even remember a time or two when the urge to touch all that beautiful
skin had caught him by surprise, only to be dampened down and
ignored immediately. Now the urge to touch hit him with such
intensity he had to fight to keep his hands from roaming.

When he had at last gotten Apollo stripped down to nothing more
than his pants, he pushed him back onto the bed and pulled back
the covers, sliding him under them. Apollo was asleep before the
blankets had finished settling.

Exhausted, Starbuck dropped into an armchair and stared in silence
at his sleeping friend. He could still taste Apollo, still feel
his touch, his kiss, could smell his scent on his skin -- and the
sensations were dearer to him than anything he'd ever known -- a
fact difficult for him to handle. It wasn't so much that Apollo
was male; truth was, as a young man growing up in an orphanage,
he'd never really been an innocent, and he'd experimented with
various pleasures before going to the Academy and deciding to walk
the straight and narrow like a certain young, green-eyed noble that
he'd admired from day one.

No, the thing that had him so turned around inside was his concern
for Apollo -- the fear that this might somehow come between them.
Surely not, he prayed silently, hoping that some deity out there
would listen to him. Surely it wasn't possible for one drunken
night to come between so many yahrens of friendship? He could stand
pretty much anything, endure nearly any horror or pain, but losing
Apollo was not an option. That was the one thing he couldn't think
about, and he imagined that come tomorrow he'd do anything, say
anything that was necessary to ensure that this did not break them
apart.

He stripped out of his own uniform eventually, putting his laser
pistol beneath one of the pillows on the bed before lying down next
to Apollo as quietly as he could. He tried not to awaken Apollo,
moved slowly so he didn't disturb the Captain -- was pretty certain
he had succeeded until he felt the man stir and move toward him.
He froze.  Apollo's arm snaked around his waist, his head coming
to rest near his shoulder. And then... nothing. Just the quite
breathing of a man deeply asleep. Apollo had simply gravitated
toward his heat.

Almost against his volition he placed his arm around his friend,
found his hand once again tangling itself in Apollo's dark hair --
who would imagine that Apollo's hair would have been softer than
Cassiopeia's? Or that the heat from Apollo's body would feel so
much like the warmth of a hearth and home Starbuck had never
possessed?

He couldn't help wondering how many others Apollo had slept beside
over the yahrens. Serina obviously, though their marriage had been
remarkably short-lived. And to his knowledge they had not slept
together prior to the ceremony. Apollo had had the occasional
girlfriend at the Academy, and while Starbuck was fairly certain
he'd had sex with them -- despite the fact that Apollo was very
reticent about sharing such stories -- Starbuck doubted very much
that he'd actually spent the entire night with any of them. As for
Sheba -- he was almost positive that their relationship hadn't gone
even as far as sex, let alone staying over an entire night and
facing Boxey the following morning.

So it seemed he'd just been inducted into a rather exclusive group
-- people who have slept beside Apollo. Zac, who kicked, Serina,
who could claim only a few nights at most. And now Starbuck.
 _________________________________________________________________

He woke with a start the following morning. The light of the morning
sun coming in through the open balcony door was such an aberration
to a man ship-bound for so long that the very first touch of sunlight
brought him shockingly awake. He stiffened, the events of the night
returning immediately. His hand had instinctively closed over the
comforting shape of his laser pistol beneath his pillow, and he
carefully catalogued his surroundings before letting up his hold
on the gun. He didn't need to look to know that he was alone in
the bed.  The absence of Apollo's warmth was confirmation enough.

Warily he turned his head, wondering what the day would hold in
store for him. He spotted Apollo almost immediately, seated in a
chair by the balcony door. Apollo was watching the sunrise through
the open doorways, the transparent white curtains blowing in a
light, flower-scented breeze. The captain looked lost in thought,
his eyes gleaming in the red and gold hues of the early daylight,
his pale skin glowing almost bronze as the rays of the suns touched
him. He was still wearing only the uniform pants Starbuck had left
him in the night before, suggesting to the lieutenant that he hadn't
been awake that long, but his attention seemed completely captivated
by the sunrise.

Under other circumstances, Starbuck supposed he'd be equally
captivated by the sunrise -- it had been so long since any of them
had seen such a sight. So long since any of them had a chance to
enjoy fresh air, blue skies, and avian song instead of the ever-present
hum of the ship's engines. But Starbuck found himself far more
fascinated by the sight of Apollo, bathed in sunlight, the lean,
muscled lines of his body captivating him in a way that he would
never have acknowledged before yesterday.

He was afraid to speak, afraid to break the silence. Would Apollo
remember, or would the Mookta have granted him blessed forgetfulness?
He'd been on the receiving end of Apollo's wrath before, but never
for something like this, something so personal. Few things could
rouse Apollo to anger -- save endangering the lives of oneself or
one's shipmates. For Apollo, all things came back to duty -- his
duty to the fleet, to his family, to his squadron, his responsibility
to keep those who served under him safe from harm. He had from time
to time criticized Starbuck's lifestyle, voiced disapproval over
the way he drank or gambled or dated more than one woman at a time,
but that had always been more of a game between them. A natural
bantering that both of them took some perverse comfort in -- never
had there been any true heat in the criticism.

But now -- this was different. Apollo was personally involved in
this.  Could he bear the criticism turned so inward, words that
wouldn't be a game or simple banter, but angry rejection of Starbuck
himself?

And then Apollo spoke and Starbuck realized that once again he'd
underestimated the sacrifices this man was willing to make for the
sake of his duty.

"I'm sorry," Apollo said softly, not turning, just somehow knowing
that Starbuck was awake and watching him.

Starbuck blinked. That had been the last thing he'd been expecting.
An apology. "Excuse me?"

"I've been sitting here trying to figure out how to apologize to
you," Apollo replied, gaze still on the sunrise. "And how to thank
you."

Completely baffled, Starbuck raised himself up on one elbow to get
a better view of his Captain. "Thank me? Why... why would you think
you'd have to apologize?"

"It's my fault you had to come down here," Apollo explained. "When
I asked you to accompany me, I didn't realize what it would entail,
what you would have to do."

Dear Gods! Apollo was worried about his sensibilities rather than
his own? Starbuck sat upright. "Of course you didn't know! No one
knew.  How could you? How could you expect yourself to know? This
isn't your fault! This isn't anyone's fault. We're both here for
the fleet! You know that!"

"I always seem to be volunteering you for one crazy stunt after
another," Apollo shook his head. "And I'm sorry."

"I'm your wingmate!" Starbuck protested. "I belong at your side.
Don't apologize!"

"I wanted to thank you as well," Apollo said then, looking almost
bemused by Starbuck's protest. Starbuck found that even more baffling
than the apology -- he certainly had done nothing to deserve thanks,
allowing his Captain to get drunk and then taking advantage of him.
"You made a joke last night that I should have brought Sheba with
me," Apollo reminded him.

Starbuck found himself paling slightly -- well that certainly
answered his question about what precisely the Captain remembered
about last night. If he remembered a simple comment said in passing,
he probably had perfect recollection of what had happened.

"Look, Apollo..." Starbuck began, figuring he'd better start his
own apology quickly. But Apollo cut him off.

"I couldn't have gotten through last night with Sheba," Apollo told
him, silencing him once again with amazement. Apollo glanced at
him then, and Starbuck saw something in his eyes that worried him
-- Apollo was frightened.

"You know how I was raised, Starbuck," Apollo said quietly. "Certain
aspects of this culture... well, you know they're outside my scope
of experience. I didn't know how to handle that... last night...
I didn't know how to handle any of that... but you did.  And you
made them believe it. And I couldn't have done that with Sheba...
because I don't trust her the way I trust you. I don't trust her
to catch me when I fall. And right now I'm free falling." He sighed
then, shaking his head. "And I'm not just talking about the... the
kissing. I'm talking about all of it. These things that have been
put inside my head..."

Starbuck found himself completely at a loss for words, not remembering
a time when he'd ever seen his friend look so vulnerable, so lost.
He wanted desperately to go to him, to touch him, hold him, but he
didn't think that would be permitted.

"I find myself speaking words," Apollo continued, and this time
Starbuck could hear the fear in his voice. "And I don't know where
they're coming from. Where the language is coming from? Or what
I'd do if it went away."

Oh, Sagan! Starbuck had never even considered the possibility --
that this knowledge that had come to Apollo could just as easily
disappear.  He couldn't imagine what that fear must be doing to a
man who took the responsibility for everyone's lives upon his
shoulders. "Apollo," he whispered, trying to find words to comfort
him, to assure him that something like that wouldn't happen, or
that even if it did, they'd figure out something else, somehow.

Apollo shut his eyes tightly, but not before Starbuck saw a flash
of such guilt and fear within them that it made Starbuck ached for
him.  "Things are worse than you know," he confessed. "Worse than
my father and I have let on. A handful of the ships are already
out of fuel; they're being towed by other ships. And the food stores
are already nearly depleted. We haven't had the reserve energy to
keep up with the demands of the Agroship. If these people don't
help us, Starbuck, if I fail, thousands will die."

Starbuck was out of bed and across the room before being conscious
of the desire to move. He found himself kneeling down before his
friend, gripping his hand tightly in his own. "Apollo, listen to
me," he said with all the honest determination he possessed. "We
won't fail. We never fail! We'll both do whatever we have to do to
get through this together. This isn't the first time you've been
free falling, Apollo."

He knew Apollo would remember the time he'd lost connection with
the hull of the Galactica during a space walk and had drifted away
untethered. As he'd hoped, the memory brought a faint smile to
Apollo's lips. "You caught me then, too, didn't you?"

"Yeah," Starbuck nodded with a grin of his own, letting a touch of
his cockiness show through. "And trust me, if I have a choice
between drifting helplessly in space with you with a diminishing
oxygen supply, or exchanging a few kisses with you at a sumptuous
feast, let me just go on record as saying I'll take the kissing.
Hands down!"

His words did the trick, and Apollo laughed, the tension easing in
his features. "That's what I like about you, Starbuck. You have
your priorities all in order."

"Hey, that purple food they gave us last night was actually really
good!" Starbuck defended.

"I was kind of partial to the blue stuff myself," Apollo joked.

Still grinning, Starbuck searched his friends face. "I take it the
Mookta had no side effects?"

Apollo shook his head. "No hangover. Packs a punch while you're
drinking it, but I feel fine now."

"Good," Starbuck nodded, and sat back on his heels, releasing
Apollo's hand somewhat reluctantly. "So what's on the agenda today?"

"I'm meeting with the Emperor this morning. You'll be spending the
day with Breeanth and some of her friends. I think they're going
to show you the sights."

Not really looking forward to spending the day with a group of
people he had no hope of communicating with, Starbuck wished he
could remain at Apollo's side, for moral support if nothing more.
"What are you authorized to trade?"

"Anything," Apollo shrugged. "Anything at all. I suspect we have
superior offensive weaponry, but they seem more interested in
defensive technologies, and we're no match for them there. Beyond
that I'm afraid our technologies are probably fairly equal. I'm
hoping maybe we have some medical advancements they might be
interested in, or energy conversion technologies they might like.
Or star charts. I don't know yet what they need."

"Anyone say anything?" Starbuck asked. "Give you any hints?"

But Apollo shook his head. "I'm flying blind here. I just have to
hope we have something they want. Otherwise this is going to be a
very short, pointless visit."
 _________________________________________________________________

The morning meal was much less formal than the dinner the night
before. They ate in a much smaller room with only a handful of
people in attendance, and there were far fewer rules governing
behavior at this event. No Mookta -- they were both relieved by
that. They still shared a plate between them, but there was no
formal Thean'd, and for the most part people kept their hands to
themselves.

With only the Emperor and Marshent and few of their nobles in
attendance, Apollo was able to converse more freely with them. Both
Breeanth and Dolmash were present as well, Dolmash acting as
translator when Apollo got lost within the language. As Starbuck
had suspected, both of them had made a favorable impression the
night before. More than once Starbuck caught Apollo blushing fiercely
at some comment directed at the two of them, and finally Starbuck
just had to ask.

"What do they keep saying about us?" His tone of voice was such
that despite not knowing his words, the others at the table seem
to understand what he was asking Apollo. There were some chuckles
as they waited to see Starbuck's reaction.

Apollo, still blushing, appeared to be having trouble coming up
with the proper words. "They um... they seem pleased by how...
close... close you and I are."

How close... Starbuck was pretty certain based on the blushes and
the smiles being sent his way that 'close' was not the word the
Corvalans had used. And whatever word they had used, it had obviously
caused Apollo a great deal of embarrassment -- he suspected that
someone had teased him about his enthusiasm last night under the
influence of the Mookta.

Figuring some gesture was in order -- something he knew Apollo was
incapable of doing himself -- Starbuck just grinned at their
audience, slipped one arm over Apollo's shoulder, and said, "Tell
them I'm just insatiable and keep you so exhausted you never have
time to notice my faults."

If anything Apollo's blush became brighter and he turned to look
at Starbuck in shock. His reaction set the Corvalans to chuckling,
and despite his embarrassment Apollo understood that Starbuck
actually expected him to translate the comment. Still blushing he
reluctantly repeated back the words to the Corvalans in their own
language. The words turned the chuckles in to full-blown laughter,
and even the Emperor and Marshent were roaring with mirth. Neither
Apollo nor Starbuck needed to know the language to realize that
they'd just gone up in the court's approval. To Starbuck's surprise,
Apollo caught hold of his hand and squeezed it gently in silent
thanks. Starbuck squeezed back.

The meal ended and the group began breaking up to go their separate
ways for the day. Starbuck, keeping a close eye on the habits of
the others, noticed immediately that while there had been little
physical contact during the meal, every couple kissed before parting.
While Breeanth and a few others drew aside to wait for Starbuck,
he caught hold of Apollo and pulled him to his side. Apollo, he
could see, had noticed the custom as well, but without the Mookta,
his reserve and nervousness had resurfaced.

"Relax, Pol," Starbuck whispered as he pulled the man against him
and kissed him gently but firmly. He kept the kiss light, barely
enough time to catalogue the heat of Apollo's body against his
before he released him with a smile. "Have a nice day," he told
his Captain, wishing he knew how to read the almost bemused expression
in his friend's eyes. Then he turned to join Breeanth, leaving
Apollo to the negotiations.
 _________________________________________________________________

Breeanth and her friends spent the day showing Starbuck the sights
nearest the palace. They wandered through elaborate gardens and
parks, walked through the halls of museums, and listened to music
outside a building Starbuck guessed was a temple of some sort.
Throughout the day he had a chance to observe the other Corvalans,
and despite the language barrier figured out some of their customs
all on his own.

The Torfaths and Urvals went their separate ways throughout the
day when performing whatever jobs or duties they had, but most
people spent their leisure time with their Lifepartners. He figured
out that it was not mandatory to hold hands when walking in public,
but it did seem the most favorable custom as he suspected it
indicated a certain fondness between pairs. Custom also seemed to
dictate that Lifepartners kiss both when meeting and when parting.
And while Starbuck knew there was little chance he'd ever be shown
the less reputable sides of their society, what he did see revealed
a remarkably peaceful culture that was more focused on family life
than anything else.

As far as he could discern, their complete observance of bonding
had to do with an elaborate story of romance between their two
principle gods. Throughout the day he saw countless statues and
paintings devoted to the subject, and while he couldn't understand
the story Breeanth was trying to explain to him, he gathered it
was one of great passion. The statues and paintings had varied in
theme, but many of them were so erotic even Starbuck found himself
almost shocked. Of the twelve colonies, Caprica certainly had not
been the most prudish or repressive of cultures, falling somewhere
in the middle of that norm -- but many of these statues, while they
would have certainly been accepted as Art by Caprican standards,
would not have been put on public display where even children might
view them. The Corvalans, however, had no such reserve, and Starbuck
couldn't help wondering if there wasn't perhaps a form of the
Thean'd that went beyond what they had seen last night. He suspected
that there probably was, and wondered how in Hades he and Apollo
would get through it if forced to participate.

It was early evening by the time he was taken back into the palace
proper where he was reunited with Apollo. The Captain was walking
with Dolmash, deep in conversation. He looked exhausted. Judging
by the way he was squinting at the evening sunlight coming in
through the tall windows lining the long hallway, Starbuck suspected
Apollo was also suffering from a headache.

As Breeanth went forward to greet Dolmash, Starbuck reached Apollo's
side and slid his arms around the startled man. "Custom," he murmured
softly to him, by way of explanation for his behavior, then he
kissed him again as he had that morning.

To Apollo's credit he only stiffened briefly, then made a conscious
effort to relax into the kiss, his exhaustion perhaps playing a
part there as his body almost melted against Starbuck's for a brief
moment.  It was all Starbuck could do not to deepen the kiss as he
had last night, wanting again to explore the heat of Apollo's mouth.
When he drew back this time, he noticed an almost wary expression
on Apollo's face, but before he could ask about it, Dolmash spoke
a long string of words. Apollo nodded at the man, answering him
quickly. It was plain to Starbuck that his fluency with the language
had improved as he barely stumbled over the strange clicks within
the words.

Apollo reached for Starbuck's hand as Dolmash and Breeanth led them
back to their room. A few more brief words, then Apollo and Starbuck
were once again alone in their suite.

"You okay?" Starbuck asked immediately as Apollo dropped bonelessly
down into one of the chairs.

In reply, Apollo just nodded, raising one hand to his head to rub
tiredly at his temple. Starbuck grabbed up his pack and rummaged
through it -- standard supplies in all military kits was a mild
painkiller. He found one of the small tablets and moved into the
turbowash to get Apollo a glass of water. Returning, he handed the
glass and the pill to his friend. "Take this," he urged.

Apollo didn't even question it, just took the pill and swallowed
it before draining the glass completely. "Thank you," he sighed.
"I feel like my head is going to explode."

"How'd it go today?"

"Slowly," Apollo replied. "Mostly they just wanted to hear our
story.  Where we're from, why we're here, the Destruction, the
Cylons, our search."

"They ever heard of the Cylons before?"

Apollo shook his head, then winced at the pain that caused. "No,"
he answered instead. "They claim they've never made it out this
far.  We'll continue the talks tomorrow. What about you? What did
you do?"

Starbuck grinned at that. "I spent the day looking at pornographic
statues."

That caught Apollo's complete attention, as he'd intended. The look
on his friend's face was priceless. "What?"

Starbuck laughed. "Their artwork is a bit explicit in nature," he
explained. "Funny thing is, I think the majority of it was actually
religious. Reminded me of some of the stuff you could see on Gemoni."

Apollo's eyes widened at that, catching the reference immediately.
Save for a few religious sects, the Gemoni colony had always been
the most liberal of the twelve colonies, accepting of behavior that
most of the other eleven would have found shocking.

"What about earlier?" Apollo asked then. "The 'custom' you were
referring to."

The kiss, he meant. Starbuck just shrugged, secretly amused that
Apollo had difficulty even saying the word. "From what I've seen
the Corvalans are very into kissing. It was expected."

Apollo raised one dark eyebrow. "They do seem to be a demonstrative
race, don't they? Remind me of avians with their mating displays."

Starbuck laughed at that; he'd thought the same thing when he'd
first seen their colorful appearance. "Are we free for the rest of
the evening? You look like you could use the rest."

But Apollo shook his head at that. "No, we're having dinner again
with the Emperor. Though Dolmash has assured me I won't be expected
to drink Mookta again. This is to be a more informal affair."

"No Thean'd?" Starbuck asked, pointedly ignoring the fact that he
found the thought disappointing.

"I don't know," Apollo said quietly as he lowered his gaze. Starbuck
heard the apology in his tone of voice. He wanted to reach out and
shake the man, but regulations generally advised against doing such
things to a superior officer.

"Hey," he said instead. "Maybe they'll have some more of the purple
stuff tonight."

Apollo smiled, obliviously seeing through Starbuck's attempt to
cheer him up. "One can only hope," he agreed.
 _________________________________________________________________

They had time enough to bathe again and change into fresh uniforms
before Dolmash and Breeanth returned to take them to dinner. The
meal was served in the same hall as it had been the night before,
though this time there was perhaps only a third the number of people
in attendance. Many of the long tables had been removed, and they
sat instead at one far end of the hall while the rest of the chamber
was left empty. Instead, musicians entered to take up the extra
space, and as Starbuck and Apollo sat down beside Breeanth and
Dolmash again, they were treated to soft melodious tunes of an
alien world.

They shared a plate again, though Starbuck found he was growing
use to that arrangement. And while it was not required that Apollo
drink when Marshent drank, there was plenty of Mookta present if
he so desired.  Both men stuck this time with water. The more
intimate setting gave the others at the table a greater opportunity
to talk amongst themselves, and Apollo was quickly engaged in
conversation with those around him. He did his best to translate
for Starbuck, though Starbuck could see that the double duty was
exhausting the man.

The food was served with less formality, platters laden down with
various dishes being placed on the table before them instead of
served one course at a time as it had before. But there was plenty
of variety and when one dish was empty, servants quickly replaced
it with something new.

As Starbuck had figured, there was no formal Thean'd this night,
but he quickly realized that that fact would not exempt the two of
them from public displays of affection. The Corvalans reverted,
instead, to openly affectionate display of marital bliss. Throughout
the meal they touched and kissed often with a sense of quiet fondness
and in some cases outright passion. The Emperor and his partner
were obviously deeply in love with one another, and spent much of
the evening whispering amongst themselves and caressing one another
with a tenderness that nearly made Starbuck blush.

Dolmash and Breeanth kept their display more subdued, Dolmash
restricting himself to kissing Breeanth's hand or face rather than
more deeply on the lips. Nonetheless their actions led Starbuck to
believe that refraining entirely from such actions would not be
acceptable. But he was momentarily torn about how he should go
about it -- should he maintain the friendly distance Dolmash and
Breeanth did, or act more as he had last night? Based on the comments
they'd received, he rather suspected that any reserve on their part
would seem out of place -- they had unfortunately established
themselves as a 'close' couple, as Apollo had translated it.

He put it off as long he felt it was possible, giving Apollo a few
quiet moments at the beginning of the dinner to get used to the
idea that once again they would need to perform for their audience.
It would be different tonight, Starbuck realized. Apollo would not
have the aid of alcohol to relax him. When the kissing started
amongst the others, he saw his friend lower his gaze, a slight
catch in his breath the only other outward sign of his unease.

"Starbuck," he said softly. "I think we..."

Starbuck raised his hand and gently touched Apollo's head, stroking
his fingers through the dark locks of hair in a quiet caress; he
realized with some surprise that he had been wanting to do that
for a while now, touch the man, attempt to calm and comfort him.

"I know," he murmured, moving marginally closer to him. "Don't
worry.  We'll manage as we did before." He applied the lightest of
pressure to Apollo's head and turned the man toward him, lightly
brushing their lips together in the softest of kisses. He could
feel the tension radiating off the man, feel the heat of embarrassment
that was coloring his skin, but Apollo made no move to stop him as
he kissed him again just as lightly.

He drew back then, giving Apollo a chance to regain his composure
as Starbuck calmly turned his attention back to their plate. But
inside, his own heart was pounding, though not from the embarrassment
he knew was plaguing his friend. He could grow drunk on Apollo's
kisses, and he wondered how he was going to get through this night
without letting that little surprising fact make itself known to
Apollo. Would Apollo be nearly so forgiving if he realized that
Starbuck was actually enjoying this situation?

They ate, they talked, and from time to time they kissed. As the
evening progressed, Starbuck found himself moving more fully into
Apollo's space so that it was easy for him to slip an arm around
his friend's body and simply leave it there. Apollo, to his credit,
relaxed with time, and while he didn't initiate their contact, he
didn't turn away from it either. For the most part they kept the
kissing light, little more than the caress of lips against one
another, lingering longer with time for show, but still staying
within some unspoken realm of acceptability.

But as the night wore on, Starbuck found himself growing bolder,
wanting more, desiring more as each touch teased him with whispers
of what he could not have. He had never been the sort of man to
deny himself -- had little experience with the reserved discipline
Apollo had been raised with -- to want and not to take what was
placed before him became harder and harder with each touch.

'He doesn't want this,' he told himself repeatedly. 'He's doing
this for the fleet, this is not real.' But that little voice of
reason became quieter and quieter. It was silenced entirely when
he felt the warm heat of Apollo's breath against his lips moments
before he kissed him again, suggesting tantalizingly that Apollo's
mouth might be open slightly. Starbuck could not resist, and used
his tongue this time to trace the shape of those lips beneath his
own.

The sharp intake of Apollo's breath alerted him to the fact that
he'd startled his friend, but Starbuck simply used that distraction
to gently coax those lips further apart, urging Apollo to allow
him briefly inside the dark heat of his mouth. He tasted of exotic
spices and it was all Starbuck could do not to press his advantage
and ravage his mouth.

When he drew back this time, so much more reluctantly, he saw a
look of bewildered surprise in Apollo's green eyes. He gave a wan
smile of apology and a subtle nod to the others around them, hoping
Apollo would surmise that Starbuck thought this was necessary.
Truthfully, it probably was. Save for Breeanth and Dolmash most of
the other couples at the table were kissing quite passionately.

To his surprise, Apollo just nodded, as if accepting on faith alone
that Starbuck understood this situation better than he did. For a
short while, Starbuck sat there and stewed in a rising guilt,
thinking that once again he was taking advantage of his friend.
But how could he not, he reasoned. The situation demanded it --
literally. And was it really so bad, a few kisses between friends,
never mind the fact that Apollo's interest lay elsewhere, or for
that matter that his interests were also supposed to be otherwise
occupied? But Cassiopeia had never made him feel like this. He was
grateful now that there wasn't anything overtly serious between
him and Cassie.

He couldn't help thinking about Athena, however. He recalled
something he'd long buried -- a thought that had flashed fleetingly
through his mind one night as he'd kissed Athena, that she reminded
him of Apollo.  He recalled quite clearly now that far from being
repulsed by the idea, it had simply turned him on more -- something
he'd instantly dismissed and would have adamantly denied.

He couldn't deny it now. And he couldn't help wondering what this
would do to him when they finally returned to the Galactica. Just
last night, when he'd thought perhaps they'd escape this mission
with nothing more than one initial kiss at that dinner, he had
envisioned simply dismissing this entirely from his mind and not
thinking of it again until he and Apollo were far enough away from
the event to be able to laugh about it. A foolish thought, he
realized now. He wasn't going to forget this, wasn't going to be
able to dismiss it -- and being denied anything more, he was fairly
certain he wasn't going to ever be able to laugh about it.

He felt his hunger rising again. When he touched Apollo lightly on
the back a short while later, the Captain turned toward him without
question, accepting his next kiss easily enough. This time however
Apollo's mouth parted willingly beneath his, and Starbuck didn't
even try to resist the invitation. He deepened the kiss immediately,
darting his tongue forward to explore his friend's mouth, tasting
again the spices of their meal and something uniquely Apollo. The
tentative touch of Apollo's tongue against his own sent a sharp
burning heat through his entire body. He almost drew back then,
almost broke their connection thinking that the effort to participate
was probably costing Apollo dearly -- even if he could imagine that
Apollo was enjoying this, enjoying him, the fact that it was
happening in public in full view of a dozen people would be enough
to ruin the moment for Apollo.

But while his mind urged retreat, his body had other ideas entirely,
and far from withdrawing, grew more aggressive as he sucked Apollo's
tongue into his mouth and gave the man the most intimate of kisses
he knew how. He heard a sound from his friend -- a moan, a gasp --
he couldn't be sure, only certain that if he hadn't before he'd
just succeeded in shocking the hell out of his Captain.

He realized of course that Apollo could stop this any time he wished
-- gods knew they were certainly a physical match for one another.
But the fact that he didn't was because of the very audience that
so bothered Apollo -- he wouldn't risk blowing their cover; and
Starbuck understood then that he really did have the Captain
completely at his mercy. Quite probably Apollo would allow nearly
any liberty -- certainly none of the Corvalans would even blink if
he were to turn this foreplay into something more serious. Marshent,
for example, currently had his hand in the Emperor's lap and the
couple seated next them didn't seem to even notice. Starbuck
suspected that not only would Apollo allow it, come tomorrow Apollo
would probably be the one apologizing for it. And he wanted to
touch -- gods, he wanted to touch! For no other reason than to find
out if Apollo could respond to his caress.

The need to breathe finally broke them apart, and despite the shame
Starbuck felt at even entertaining the thought of taking advantage
of his friend, he found he couldn't look away from Apollo, captivated
by the look in the man's eyes. He looked vulnerable, and somewhat
lost, confusion warring with a certain breathlessness that Starbuck
desperately wanted to interpret as passion. But he found to his
surprise that he didn't want anyone else to see that vulnerability
in his friend's face, didn't want the Corvalans to see what this
was doing to him, and he raised his hand quickly to gently stroke
Apollo's face, trying to calm and sooth him with his own assurance.
To his surprise, despite the lack of alcohol, Apollo turned in
toward that caress as he had last night, eyes closing as he seemed
to become lost in the moment.

That act struck Starbuck deep in his racing heart -- dear gods,
the man was hungry for contact! For some simple human affection.
Starbuck found himself suddenly hating Sheba with a fierceness that
shocked him -- that she could be allowed to give Apollo this when
he could not; or perhaps worse yet that she could be allowed to do
it, and apparently had not since it still seemed so lacking in the
man's life that he would accept even a touch he did not want in
its absence.

He would have spoken then, blurted out something foolish and
heart-felt, but he was saved from such folly by Dolmash who chose
that moment to ask Apollo a question. Startled out of the moment,
Apollo quickly turned away from Starbuck and answered Dolmash in
a long string of words Starbuck didn't understand.

Starbuck sat back and took a quick drink from his glass, using the
movement to covertly glance around the room. Their little interlude
seemed to have gone unnoticed, or at least unremarked he was relieved
to see, and he found to his surprise that he was quite shaken by
what had just happened. He'd nearly told Apollo... what, that he
wanted him, desired him, loved him? Sagan! That certainly would
have gone over well! Something had changed, something subtle --
not with Apollo, but with himself. It was as if he'd stepped across
some invisible line and he wasn't certain how to get back.

He had to get back, he realized. He had to go back to where he'd
been yesterday, living in denial that any such feelings were
possible, that such feelings had probably existed buried inside
him for ages.  Certainly he had to go back to thinking of this as
nothing more than a mission -- an assignment to play a part, get
the trade agreement, and then return home to the Galactica and go
about living their lives in the same manner they always had. Though
he and Cassiopeia were only seeing each other casually now, he'd
have to find someway of tumbling her into bed as quickly as possible
when they returned to the ship, some way of purging himself of the
fire burning inside him. That would be the most acceptable solution
-- or barring that, a less acceptable possibility was to take a
trip over to one of the Gemoni ships and find a young man to give
him a toss. Because he certainly couldn't go on thinking what he
was thinking now.

"Starbuck?" Apollo's voice drew him back to the present and he
looked quickly at his friend in concern. "Dolmash wanted to know
how long we've been together."

"Fourteen yahrens," Starbuck responded automatically, and saw
immediately that he'd said something wrong by the look of wary
surprise that flashed through Apollo's eyes.

"I told him two," he said quietly, a question in his tone as if
asking if Starbuck knew something he didn't. Starbuck understood
immediately what he'd meant -- how long they'd been together, how
long they'd been 'sealed'. Fourteen yahrens ago they had both been
sixteen-yahrens-old and meeting at the Academy for the first time
-- fourteen yahrens ago, Starbuck's entire life had changed when
he'd looked across a crowded room and saw the handsome, brooding
form of the eldest son of one of Caprica's most noble families.

"Sorry," he apologized immediately, shooting both Apollo and Dolmash
a reassuring smile. He was grateful that Dolmash did not understand
their language. "My mind was somewhere else. Two was a good answer,
Pol. I was thinking of something else."

A look of relief replaced the wariness in Apollo's face immediately,
and he smiled in return. He said something more to Dolmash, causing
the man to laugh, and Starbuck noticed that Breeanth was staring
at them rather intently. He smiled at her, wondering what had so
caught her attention. She just grinned impishly and reached over
to take Dolmash's hand, and Starbuck discovered then that some time
in the last few moments he'd taken hold of Apollo's hand without
realizing it and was now gently caressing the back of the man's
fingers. If Apollo had noticed he didn't indicate and made no move
to stop him. Nor did he make any move to stop him when five centons
later Starbuck leaned closer and nuzzled the side of his neck,
kissing a soft spot just below his ear that had been tantalizing
Starbuck all night. Truth be told, Apollo tilted his head slightly
to the side to give him better access, though this close to a major
pulse point, Starbuck could feel that the man was not nearly so
calm as he seemed; his heart was pounding. But lords, Apollo tasted
good!

It wasn't until Starbuck impulsively took Apollo's earlobe between
his lips and gently bit it that Apollo finally flinched away.
Alarmed, Starbuck looked up, but found to his surprise that Apollo
was not mad.  Far from it -- his face was flushed and he seemed to
be fighting to stifle a laugh, a gleam of mirth flashing in those
green eyes.  "Sorry," he apologized quickly to Starbuck. "That
tickled."

Starbuck thought his heart would melt right there on the spot. He'd
imaged many things over the last day with Apollo -- hunger, passion,
need, desire, but he had not expected to see this -- playfulness.
Not from Apollo. Not from his reserved friend. "You're ticklish?"
he asked in delighted surprise.

Embarrassed for a completely different reason, Apollo shrugged
sheepishly. "Lots of people are ticklish," he insisted defensively.

Starbuck couldn't resist teasing him. "The things I learn about
you.  Wait until the guys back in Blue hear about this."

That stopped Apollo cold and he turned to Starbuck in earnest alarm.
"Starbuck," he pleaded, and Starbuck knew his fear wasn't about
the Squadron finding out he was ticklish, but rather about anyone
finding out any of this.

He silenced Apollo immediately with a quick, heated kiss. "Quit
worrying," he assured him. "You know I wouldn't breath a word of
this.  You know that." And of course Apollo did know that -- after
all that was why Starbuck was here beside him and Sheba was not.
Because Apollo trusted Starbuck, knew that Starbuck would never
tell anyone on the Galactica what they had to do for the sake of
this mission, knew Starbuck would protect Apollo's reputation more
fiercely than he protected his own.

As if in thanks, Apollo's mouth opened beneath Starbuck's next
kiss, and he let him inside, moving willingly into the kiss when
Starbuck's hunger demanded he take whatever he could. He thought
fleetingly that if Apollo needed any proof that Starbuck was enjoying
this, he simply had to glance at his lap for evidence of the fact
that he found this no great hardship. Funny thing was, Starbuck
knew just as certainly that Apollo would not. Embarrassed, flustered
and as baffled as the man was, forced into an intimacy his breeding
told him was wrong, there were still certain behaviors Apollo would
not do -- he wouldn't want to know what effect this was having on
Starbuck's body, or barring that, even if he did want to know, he
would see it as an invasion of privacy.

Starbuck had to laugh at himself. It was one thing to fall in love
with a man and a commanding officer; but to fall in love with a
gentleman and noble... only he could be so foolish. His friends
always said that he was the proverbial fool who rushed in where
even the gods feared to tread.

They survived the meal without international incident, and it was
with some reluctance that Starbuck left the table when the meal
was officially over. Without the constraints of culture, Starbuck
had no excuse to continue kissing Apollo -- though his body suggested
that perhaps that was for the best. He was wound up tighter than
a spring as it was; any more of this enforced foreplay and Starbuck
wasn't certain he could be held responsible for his actions. As it
was, the thought of sleeping beside Apollo tonight was making him
ache in places he was trying very hard to ignore.

But he noticed as they walked back to their room just how very
tired his friend was looking, and concern quickly replaced his
frustration.  "You feeling all right?" he asked as they entered
the room after bidding goodnight to Dolmash and Breeanth. "You're
not coming down with anything, are you?" He resisted the urge to
touch Apollo's forehead as he had last night -- Apollo was not
drunk this time, and now that they were alone, would probably not
be as willing to allow such a touch. It felt strange to suddenly
have to hold himself back after having just spent two hours doing
quite the opposite.

"No, I'm fine," Apollo assured him. "Just tired."

"Why don't you go to sleep then," Starbuck urged. "I'll make the
report to the ship." They'd promised the Commander they would check
in every night to assure him they were well.

"You sure?" Apollo asked, the fact that he was willing to even
entertain such a notion a testament to just how tired he really
was.

"Go to bed, Apollo," Starbuck insisted. "I'll take care of it."

Apollo did not argue and while Starbuck retrieved their com-unit
and sent a request for Commander Adama's private channel, he watched
out of the corner of his eye as Apollo undressed for bed. The man
might be unaccustomed to public displays of affection, but he didn't
possess any body-shyness. Few people who served aboard a battlestar
did; communal living cured you of that early in the Academy. Apollo
thought nothing of stripping down to his undergarment and climbing
into bed, seeming mindless of the fact that Starbuck was covertly
watching him this time with more than a little interest. Starbuck
found himself squirming uncomfortably in his seat as his body heated
up once again at the sight of all that lean, muscled skin. It was
only the sight of Apollo removing his laser pistol from his holster
and slipping it under a pillow as Starbuck had last night that
brought him back to the moment -- a mission, he remind himself.
They were on a mission.  Nothing more.

Then the com-unit beeped and Commander Adama's familiar face appeared
on the small screen. "Lieutenant," Adama greeted, looking somewhat
surprise that Apollo was not the one speaking with him. "Is everything
all right?"

"Fine, sir," Starbuck assured him immediately, giving him his
trademark smile that, while obnoxious, generally put people instantly
at ease. "Captain Apollo began the trade talks today. The Corvalans
seem receptive to talking to us."

"Any progress yet?" Starbuck could hear the concern in the Commander's
voice, and perhaps just a touch of impatience, but he knew it was
simply concern for the state of the fleet -- something Starbuck
now knew was worse than was generally known.

"Not yet, sir," Starbuck apologized, restricting himself to the
formality of military speech. "They're still just in the initial
stages of dialogue. But the talks will resume tomorrow."

Adama nodded. "Are you two having any difficulty adapting to the
culture?"

Adapting to the culture -- Starbuck couldn't help wondering what
Adama would say if he knew that basically that meant he had to make
out with his son at least once a day for the sake of that cultural
adaptation.  "No, sir," he replied. "We're managing well enough."
Too well, he suspected.

Adama nodded his head again, and then something almost imperceptible
shifted in his eyes. Starbuck knew that the man he was addressing
was now more a concerned father than the Commander of the Fleet.
"How's Apollo?" he asked.

Starbuck spared a glance toward the curtained bed, but Apollo had
already fallen silent, an unmoving shadow beneath the blankets.
"Tired, sir," he answered honestly. "He's sleeping now."

There was a look on Adama's face that Starbuck couldn't quite
decipher, and he felt a pang of worry gnawing at his heart. Adama
glanced momentarily away from the screen as if debating whether or
not to say anything more. When he finally did look up, Starbuck
saw concern in his eyes. "Keep an eye on him, Starbuck," he said
quietly.  "He sent a text message to me earlier today, but... half
of it was written in Corvalan."

Starbuck's eyes widened at that, understanding Adama's concern.
That wasn't like Apollo -- he wasn't careless. And he wouldn't
casually make a mistake like that. "He's very tired, sir," he
admitted, but he nodded to the Commander. "I'll keep any eye on
him."

"Thank you, Starbuck," Adama smiled grimly. "I'll speak with you
tomorrow." And with that he ended the transmission.

Starbuck sat back in his chair, and stared at the blank screen for
a long while. Apollo's fluency with Corvalan had increased dramatically
today, and though he hadn't remarked on it at the time, there were
a couple of times when he was translating for Starbuck that Apollo
struggled harder for the Kobolian words than he should. But damned
if he knew what that meant. They had done something to his friend
on the Ship of Lights -- he'd been dead, and Starbuck could still
remember the grief and utter despair that had gripped him at that
realization.  It had been with relief that he'd offered his life
in exchange for Apollo's -- anything to make the man live again.
Besides he couldn't imagine living in a world without Apollo; better
to be dead himself.

But they'd given Apollo back to him, and no matter what happened
he could never hate them for that fact alone. But the thought of
what else they might have done to him terrified Starbuck, because
he didn't know how to protect Apollo from creatures who had power
over life and death. And he still couldn't imagine living in a
world without his friend beside him.

He rose finally, and stripped out of his uniform. Then, placing
his own pistol under a pillow within easy reach, he climbed into
the bed beside the Captain. Apollo was asleep already, lying on
the far side of the bed, turned completely away from him. Starbuck
lay in the darkness and watched him in silence, wishing he dared
touch him again, just to assure himself that he was real and solid
and very much alive and in this world.

He was exhausted himself, but he found he couldn't sleep. Couldn't
relax. Something hurt deep inside him, and he didn't know what to
do to ease the pain. He shouldn't have touched his memories of the
Ship of Lights -- they always hurt him, remembering the pain he'd
felt seeing Apollo dead. Sheba had cried, so he imagined she could
perhaps understand his loss, but he couldn't help thinking that
they had given Apollo back to him, not to her. Certainly her life
would have gone on without Apollo; his would have been utterly
shattered.

Apollo moved restlessly in his sleep, and Starbuck froze, waiting.
Like he had last night, the man gravitated toward Starbuck's heat,
and a moment later Apollo was sliding into his arms, wrapped around
him as intimately as any lover. He settled momentarily and then as
if realizing that something had changed, he began to stir again,
rising up toward wakefulness. Instantly Starbuck tried to still
him, gently stroking his hair as he had last night.

"It's all right, Apollo," he whispered softly. "Go to sleep. You're
safe. Everything is fine." To his utter surprise, it worked. Apollo
settled contently back down, returning to his deep slumber as he
rested against Starbuck's warmth.

Starbuck also realized that his own pain was gone. He tangled his
fingers in Apollo's hair and relaxed.
 _________________________________________________________________

There was no repeat of yesterday's apology the following morning.
Rather Apollo dealt with last night's behavior simply by ignoring
it completely. Starbuck took some comfort in that. If Apollo had
been angry he would have said something. He might be reserved, he
might be embarrassment, but he was still the commanding officer.
If he honestly thought Starbuck had crossed some line, he would
make that fact known.  Instead he seemed content to leave their
'cultural adaptation' as Adama had called in, completely in Starbuck's
hands.

As they washed and dressed the following morning, Starbuck made
brief mention of his conversation the night before with Adama. He
casually mentioned the letter, and watched covertly for Apollo's
reaction when he informed him of the error. Apollo's eyes widened
with surprise, but rather than deny it, he went immediately to the
com-unit and began scrolling through the saved copy of the text he
had sent. Beyond a tightening of his lips he gave no other outward
reaction. Starbuck didn't know whether to be relieved or concerned
by his reaction -- it was obvious that Apollo had been unaware of
the mistake.

He waited patiently while the Captain corrected the message and
then resent it, his sense of duty and efficiency allowing for
nothing else.  Starbuck couldn't help wondering what sort of
explanation the Captain would have appended to the letter. Once
finished, Apollo set down the com-unit and shot Starbuck an unreadable
look. "Guess I was more tired than I realized," he remarked, and
Starbuck knew that was the only explanation he was going to get.

"I realize I don't know the language, but perhaps I could sit with
you today during the talks. For moral support if nothing else,"
Starbuck offered, hoping he would take him up on the offer.

Apollo shook his head. "The delegation is made up of twenty nobles
-- Marshent is the only Torfath traditionally allowed on the council.
They are making an exception for Dolmash, but even that goes against
custom. I don't want to push my luck at this stage of the game."

It was nicely said, but it was a refusal, and a formal one from
Captain to Lieutenant. Starbuck wanted to argue, but knew it would
be pointless. "So I guess I spend the day looking at naughty pictures
again, huh?"

Apollo smiled at that. "No, Breeanth is taking you to her family
estate today. From what I understood they raise a type of equine
animal. She's going to take you riding."

Starbuck groaned at that, remembering how he had felt last time
he'd ridden an equine. "Oh, Sagan," he sighed. "Guess it's a good
thing we get to sit on pillows at dinner time. I'm going to need
them tonight."

"You'll manage," Apollo said in amusement. "And so will your
posterior, I'm sure."

"We'll see," Starbuck grumbled. "But if I'm in pain, I'm drinking
the Mookta tonight!"

He was pleased to see Apollo laugh at the thought.
 _________________________________________________________________

Breakfast was much as it had been yesterday, save that when they
parted company Apollo was less hesitant about the kiss and even
went so far as to slip his arm around Starbuck and hold him briefly
before releasing him. That touch stayed with Starbuck all day, for
it felt to him it had been done out of genuine affection rather
than forced intimacy. But then he supposed he was probably reading
too much into it.

Breeanth, while unable to communicate properly with Starbuck, was
nonetheless pleasant company. And her friends, males and females
both, varied enough in age that Starbuck didn't feel out of place.
The estate was beautiful, reminding Starbuck of Adama's country
estate on Caprica; and he felt a pang of sorrow at the thought of
that place now gone, taken over by Cylons who would have destroyed
the beauty of the place. Ila had loved it there, and Starbuck could
still remember that first summer break at the Academy when Apollo
had brought a no-name peasant home to dine with kings and princes.

Ila and Adama both had made him welcome, and never once asked about
his lack of heritage or family. Far from it, Adama had made it
known that first night at dinner that he was aware of the fact that
Starbuck had received a full scholarship to the Academy due to hard
earned grades at the state run school he'd gone through at the
Orphanage.  He'd praised Starbuck for such a remarkable achievement,
and while as a child Starbuck knew that his grades were the only
hope he had of escaping the life he'd been born to, he'd never
truly taken pride in his accomplishments until that night. Somehow
it seemed that with Apollo and his family, it didn't matter where
he'd come from. He supposed now he'd loved Apollo even then.

The equines were feisty yet beautiful, and in spite of himself,
Starbuck enjoyed riding them well enough. He couldn't help feel
however that he should be at Apollo's side helping him, and not
off enjoying himself on an outing most of the people in the fleet
would kill to experience. Boxey ought to be down here enjoying the
fresh air and the sunshine, he thought regretfully. There were
children living in the fleet that no longer remembered what that
felt like -- children who'd forgotten what a breeze or a storm was.
Children who were now threatened with starvation while he was
enjoying real sunshine on his face.

He was tired, but thankfully not particularly sore when they made
their way back to the palace. And he thanked Breeanth profusely
for her hospitality -- he'd managed at least to pick up a few
Corvalan words and could say 'please' and 'thank you' and 'yes'
and 'no' with some aptitude. Apollo and Dolmash were again waiting
for them when they returned, and it was with a sense of relief that
Starbuck kissed Apollo in greeting. But he knew immediately as he
took the man into his arms that something was wrong; the tension
radiating off Apollo was nearly palatable.

Again they were escorted back to their rooms by Dolmash and Breeanth,
though this time Apollo spent some time talking to Dolmash before
entering the chamber. He appeared to be trying to get some answer
from the man, but Dolmash just smiled and shook his head, and patted
Apollo assuredly on the shoulder as if to insist that everything
was fine.  Then he bid them both goodbye and he and Breeanth
disappeared down the hallway. Apollo entered the room without
comment and Starbuck followed him inside, closing the door in
concern as he watched the Captain shrug out of his uniform jacket
and toss it almost violently across the bed.

"Apollo, what's wrong?" Starbuck asked in alarm.

In agitation Apollo began talking, pacing back and forth across
the room as he spoke. So surprised was Starbuck by this behavior,
that it took him a moment to realize why he couldn't understand
what the man was saying. "Apollo!" he caught the man's abrupt
attention. "I don't speak Corvalan," Starbuck reminded him gently,
worried that his friend appeared unaware of the fact that he'd been
speaking the wrong language.

For a moment Apollo just stared at him blankly, then realization
flooded his green eyes. "I'm sorry, Starbuck," he sighed, raising
a hand to rub tiredly at his eyes. "I wasn't thinking. I..." He
shook his head as if to clear it.

"What's wrong?" Starbuck asked, wondering what Apollo would do if
he offered to rub his head for him. "Did the negotiations go badly?"

"The negotiations didn't go at all!" Apollo exclaimed, and then
muttered a few curses under his breath. At least the curses were
words he recognized, and he took some heart in that.

"What do you mean?"

"We met, we talked, they asked me more questions about the fleet,
about Caprica, and then they took me out to see their flower
gardens."

Starbuck sank down in one of the chairs, trying to fathom out the
meaning. "They cancelled the talks?"

Apollo sighed. "Not exactly. They simply felt it was necessary that
they show me the palace before we discussed anything more. Said
they felt I needed a break from the story telling. But I know
delaying tactics when I see them. I tried to get them back on tract,
but every time I brought up the fleet they'd show me another garden
or a fountain or a statue. I now know more about their palace
architect than I know about the ship's engineers!"

"Are they going to resume the talks tomorrow?" Starbuck asked.

"I don't know," Apollo shrugged, looking far too worried, and far
too tired. "They said they would, but for all I know that means I
could spend the day looking at your dirty artwork."

"Did Dolmash say anything?"

Apollo sat down in the chair across from Starbucks, but his legs
were twitching with agitation and he looked far from comfortable.
"He said everything was fine. That the Emperor simply needs to
evaluate some things. I can't help thinking that I did something
wrong. That I violated some custom or angered them in someway. Last
night..." He looked up at Starbuck beseechingly, searching his face
for answers.  "Last night, was I... did I... was I too reserved?
Did I do... something wrong? Act cold or unemotional?"

Starbuck's eyes widened in shock as he realized what it was his
friend was referring to. "No!" he said immediately. "No, Apollo,
you were fine. You didn't do anything wrong. Trust me on this!"

It wasn't the first time he'd heard someone refer to Apollo as
being cold or unemotional -- women in the fleet had mentioned it
when they'd tried and failed to attract Apollo's attentions. Even
other officers had mentioned it when they'd done something wrong
and had been on the receiving end of the Captain's ire. But this
was the first time Starbuck had ever suspected the man had taken
the criticism to heart.  Truth be told, the very idea of calling
the man he'd held in his arms last night 'cold' or 'unemotional'
was ridiculous in the extreme.

Apollo looked away, his face pale, his lips thinned with self-effacing
anger. "I'm too reserved," he stated harshly. "Too prudish. And
these people aren't. And my behavior has offended them."

Starbuck shot out of his seat and crouched down before Apollo's
chair.  "Knock it off, Apollo," he ordered. "In case you've forgotten,
you weren't alone last night. I was there too and I'm a pretty good
judge of these things. You didn't do anything wrong."

"That's just it, Starbuck," Apollo said softly, bitterly. "I didn't
do anything at all. You're doing all the work. I'm not helping you
at all."

All the work? Starbuck shook his head in denial. "You're wrong.
Couples fall into certain roles, and the Corvalans are bound to
know that better than anyone. They wouldn't find it unusual. Breeanth
didn't initiate any of the contact either. You're way off base on
this one."

"I'm also not a fourteen-yahren-old girl," Apollo pointed out. "But
I suspect they think I sure as Hades am acting like one." He winced
suddenly and rubbed painfully at his temples again, squeezing his
eyes shut.

"Pol?" Starbuck asked in concern, touching his knee lightly to get
his attention.

"My head hurts," Apollo whispered, and he leaned back in his chair
as if suddenly too tired to sit up. "Gods, my head hurts."

Starbuck rose immediately to get another painkiller and a glass of
water. This time he also got a cool cloth from the turbowash. When
he returned he practically forced the exhausted man to swallow the
pills, and then had him lean back in the chair so that he could
place the cloth gently over his eyes. Then against his better
judgment, he took hold of Apollo's hand, holding it lightly in his
own. To his surprise, Apollo made no move to stop him.

"Apollo, listen to me," he urged softly. "We've done everything we
know to do to be accepted into this culture. I think you're reading
more into this than you should. Wait until tomorrow. It may be
exactly what they said. For all you know their customs demand that
they take a break between negotiation days. Or maybe the Emperor
merely needs to evaluate their own needs before they can decide
what to trade with us.  I don't think the fault lies with our
behavior. They seem to genuinely like us. Trust me on this. I know
people. They believe our act." Too much so perhaps. He remembered
now the look Breeanth had given them the night before, and also a
few untranslated comments she'd made today to her friends -- she
thought the two of them were very much in love, and Starbuck
suspected she found it quite romantic.

"We're running out of time," Apollo sighed, and the note of grief
in his voice nearly broke Starbuck's heart. Their people were facing
death. And Apollo's father and sister and son were up there waiting
for their success, but it was perhaps the countless people whose
names they didn't know that weighed the heaviest on Apollo's
shoulders. He honestly believed he was responsible for them,
genuinely believed that it would be his fault if they died. Failure
was not an option.
 _________________________________________________________________

They were summoned for dinner too soon for Starbuck's peace of
mind.  Apollo didn't look good, and he feared the man was still
suffering from the headache. But somehow, Apollo hid it from their
hosts, smiling and greeting the nobles as they joined them around
the Emperor's table. The meal was much as it had been last night,
though the music was different, somewhat livelier than it had been
before.  Starbuck tried to take that as a hopeful sign -- the music
sounded positive and upbeat as if in preparation for a celebration.

To his surprise, early on in the meal Apollo poured himself a rather
large glass of Mookta, and began drinking immediately. There were
a few comments about this from those around them, some laughter
from some of the others. Apollo replied back, laughing as well,
and then shocked the hell out of Starbuck when he turned toward
him and pulled him in for a heated kiss.

"Apollo," Starbuck murmured when he could speak again. "Slow down
on that Mookta. I don't trust that stuff!" He'd never seen his
friend deliberately set out to get drunk; that wasn't like him.

"No," Apollo stated. "I won't have a repeat of last night." He
drank again.

Dear gods, the man was impossible! Starbuck realized that despite
what he'd said to him, he honestly believed he'd been too reserved
last night. He intended to insure that he loosened up by getting
himself drunk on Mookta. "Apollo, in case you've forgotten, that
stuff isn't just alcohol. It's a drug, remember?" An aphrodisiac,
he wanted to remind him, but wasn't certain if Apollo would
necessarily find that a drawback at this stage in the game.

"I'm sorry," Apollo replied quietly, and he did indeed look quite
penitent. "You can file a report against me when get back to the
Galactica." And with that, he took another drink.

"Frack!" Starbuck hissed under his breath. Apollo kissed him again,
caressing his opened mouth and sucking softly on his lower lip when
he went to pull away. "Okay, okay," Starbuck whispered. "I get the
point.  I understand. But I think you're plenty loose enough. Much
looser and you're going to be propositioning the Emperor, and we
both know what would happen then."

That at least caught Apollo's attention and he glanced momentarily
at his glass of Mookta. He'd finished nearly half of it already.
He looked uncertainly back at Starbuck, and based on the heated
flush in his cheeks Starbuck guessed the Mookta was already having
too much of an effect on him, overheating his skin. "You think this
is okay?" he asked, and he moved closer to Starbuck, raising his
hand to stroke his face and to lightly run his fingers over Starbuck's
lips. Starbuck understood what he was asking.

"Yeah, Pol," he assured him. "I'm sure it's okay. It's perfect.
Trust me. Please." Much more perfect, and Starbuck feared he'd
explode. He wasn't sure how he could possibly find a way to resist
a drugged Apollo once again. The first time had been bad enough.

"Okay," Apollo agreed, and he slowed down some, setting the Mookta
momentarily aside in favor of eating something from their plate.
Starbuck breathed a sigh of relief.

For Starbuck the night was both an agony and an ecstasy. Time and
time again he feared he'd die if he couldn't do something to relieve
the arousal burning through his body; having a drunken, willing
Apollo in his arms was nearly more than he could bear. But he found
the idea that Apollo was forcing himself to do this, had to get
drunk first to even go through with it, difficult to bear. He didn't
want the man turned on because he was doped up on some alien drug.
He wanted Apollo to want him the way he did. And the thought that
deep down in the sober, rational part of his mind Apollo might be
disgusted by this, was killing him.

The Corvalans, though, seemed delighted by the evening; all of them
in a remarkably good mood. And Apollo's behavior merely engendered
smiles of encouragement, and more fond sighing from the overly
romantic Breeanth.

His friend was quite drunk, and singing once again as he walked
him back to their room. He was a bit more difficult to undress this
time, since he was more wound up with stress than he had been that
first night. He was also, Starbuck feared, feeling the effects of
the aphrodisiac, a fact that became more noticeable as Starbuck
undressed him. Apollo moaned at the sensation of his clothing moving
over his flesh, and then at the cool night air upon his naked skin.
And when Starbuck attempted to unbuckle his pants, Apollo wrapped
his arms around Starbuck's neck and rubbed up against him, leaving
no doubt in Starbuck's mind that Apollo was painfully aroused.

Starbuck hissed at the sensation, arguing with himself as he tried
to extricate himself from Apollo's arms. Would it be so wrong, he
asked himself, to give them both a little relief? Wouldn't take
much, he reasoned. A few touches, a few caresses, and he suspected
they'd both go off like turbo rockets. If this were ambrosa he were
drunk on, and the possibility existed that Apollo might not remember
what happened come morning, he probably would have done it. As it
was, he was afraid they'd already crossed one line too many, and
Apollo was going to have a difficult time dealing with things
already.

Aroused he might be, but Apollo was also exceedingly tired, and it
didn't take much effort for Starbuck to unwind his arms from around
him and tip him back onto the bed. Unfortunately Apollo grabbed
hold of his jacket as he fell, and Starbuck ended up falling with
him, landing on top of him. He groaned in frustration, and then
sighed, figuring he might as well use his position to move Apollo
more comfortably onto the bed.

Leaning up, he grasped Apollo under the arms and hefted him up
higher so that his head, at least, was on the pillow. Then he shoved
his legs over so that he was lying more comfortably length-wise on
the bed. All the while Apollo kept a tight hold on his jacket, and
as he went to try and pry his fingers loose he became aware of the
fact that Apollo was watching him curiously.

Starbuck paused, leaning over the man, studying his face as he
tried to read his expression. At least he was no longer trying to
rub up against him. "What?" he asked in exasperation, wondering
what Apollo was thinking about.

"Starbuck?" Apollo smiled suddenly, a sweet smile that went straight
to Starbuck's heart. "Do that thing you did last night."

The thing? Starbuck stared at him in confusion. "What thing?" What
had he done last night?

"That thing," Apollo repeated, though this time his gaze was focused
on Starbuck's mouth. "With your mouth." There was no mistaking the
heat in Apollo's eyes, or the intent of his focus. Starbuck felt
his whole body come alive as if he'd just touched a live wire.
Apollo tugged him gently toward him and leaned up, lightly brushing
his lips across Starbuck's mouth. "Suck on my tongue again," he
whispered, and the words alone nearly made Starbuck come in his
pants. Then Apollo was kissing him, mouth open and hungry, and
Starbuck could really see no option other than to comply. He kissed
him for all he was worth, taking everything he could, devouring
his mouth greedily, desperately, groaning in pleasure as Apollo
responded.

The need to breath alone made him stop, but even then he couldn't
break contact with Apollo, kissing the man's face and neck, sucking
on the overheated skin. Apollo moaned in contentment, turning his
head to give him better access, and then, from one moment to the
next, promptly fell asleep.

Starbuck felt it the moment the man went limp in his arms. It was
nearly instantaneous and he drew back to stare down at him in shock.

"Frack!" he cursed, untangling himself swiftly from the man and
from the bed, horrified by his own behavior. He'd known of course
that Apollo was drunk -- but a man had to be pretty damned drunk
to pass out like that. And Starbuck had nearly taken advantage of
him -- never mind that he'd asked for it. How the hell was he going
to explain this in the morning?

Still didn't take care of his most immediately problem however.
Stumbling away from the bed, Starbuck stripped off his uniform as
he made his way into the turbowash. But even cold water cascading
down upon him did little to relieve the need inside him, and he
finally had no choice but take himself in hand and stroke himself
to orgasm. He came violently, gasping Apollo's name. His knees gave
out and he collapsed onto the floor of the shower, letting the
water wash away the signs of his desire.

He tried to think about Cassiopeia then, tried to think about all
the other women he'd ever been with. But it didn't seem to matter;
lovely as they all were, they paled in comparison to Apollo.
Everything paled in comparison to Apollo. He'd been willing to die
for the man -- how could he have ever imagined that he was not in
love with him?

Eventually he pulled himself together enough to get out of the
shower and dry off. Then remembering that someone still needed to
contact Adama, he dressed again -- didn't look right to report to
one's Commander while naked. Adama looked concerned at the lateness
of the hour, and Starbuck apologized quickly. "The dinners here
run a little long," he explained, deciding that it also wasn't very
prudent to explain to your Commander that you were late reporting
in because you'd been jacking off in the turbowash to thoughts of
the Commander's son.

"Any progress?" Adama asked hopefully, and Starbuck felt bad having
to tell him no.

"Apollo's meeting with them again tomorrow. Hopefully he'll have
something more positive to report to you then."

"How is he doing?"

He didn't bother glancing over at the bed afraid that this time
his reaction might show in his face. "This is exhausting him," he
admitted. "I think it's the language -- however he knows it. It's
draining him."

Adama just nodded in understanding. "Take care of him, Starbuck,"
he urged again. "And take care of yourself. Our prayers are with
you."

When Starbuck crawled into bed that night, he noticed with regret
that Apollo had not moved a muscle. Too deeply asleep, he seemed
unaware of Starbuck's presence, and this night did not turn toward
him and sleep in his arms. Starbuck couldn't ever recall feeling
so empty.
 _________________________________________________________________

They were both on edge the following morning as they washed and
dressed for the day. Starbuck finished first and spent some time
cleaning his laser pistol while Apollo dressed. He watched the
Captain out of the corner of his eye, noting as he adjusted his
uniform's collar in front of the mirror that he paused suddenly to
touch the marks on his neck. Starbuck tensed. He had been wondering
when Apollo would notice those -- he'd spotted them that morning,
marks made by his mouth last night in this bed.

He waited in silence, afraid to speak, afraid to not speak. He
wished Apollo would just yell at him and get it over with -- the
suspense was killing him. He watched as the Captain ran his fingers
lightly over the marks, a thoughtful look on his face. When he did
finally speak, his words were once again the last ones Starbuck
had been expecting.  "I meant what I said; you can file a report
against me when we return to the Galactica."

His words simply made Starbuck angry. "Frack!" he shouted. How come
none of this was ever his fault! Why did Apollo always have to be
the one who fell on his sword? "I am not going to file any damned
report against you!"

He expected a response, angry words in return, or at the very least
a discussion of some sort. He got neither. Rather Apollo just fell
silent, staring at him for a long moment through the mirror. Starbuck
could not imagine what he might read in his face -- he felt only
fury and confusion and a healthy dose of despair.

When Apollo did move finally, it was only to pick up his jacket
and shrug it on over his shoulders, pausing momentarily to adjust
his gun belt. Starbuck felt like hitting something and he turned
away lest he say or do something he couldn't take back.

"Starbuck?" the quiet, pensive tone in Apollo's voice drew Starbuck
back immediately and he found himself caught and held by a pair of
green eyes. "Starbuck, are we all right?"

The rage left Starbuck immediately, replaced instead by pain.
Because of course that was all that would ever matter to Apollo --
all of this, this planet, this situation they found themselves in,
this was all nothing more than a mission, something he did for the
sake of duty. But their friendship -- that was something else --
something outside of duty, something Apollo valued deeply. And
Starbuck should have known that he would never hold any of this
against him, wouldn't blame him for any actions they were forced
to take on this planet.

"You are my wingmate, and my best friend," he told the man with
all the sincerity he possessed. "And nothing is ever going to change
that."

The relief that flashed through Apollo's eyes was palatable, and
Starbuck hated himself for letting the man ever doubt it. Apollo
just smiled at him. "Come on," he said quietly. "Duty calls."
 _________________________________________________________________

Starbuck spent the day shopping with Breeanth -- or rather they
wandered about one of the capital's merchant districts and looked
at all the things Starbuck remembered from back home. When the
fleet had first started their journey they had actually possessed
a remarkable number of luxury items, but those had grown fewer and
far between over the yahrens.

A moving fleet lacked the ability to produce many of the things
they'd taken for granted back home. Starbuck couldn't even recall
the last time he'd last possessed a brand new pyramid deck. The
only one he owned had seen better days long ago. The few cubits he
still had were unusable on this world since they traded with a
completely different form of currency. Breeanth however was quite
generous, and bought anything that Starbuck stared too long at. He
suspected that fuel or not, they'd at least have a shuttle full of
gifts to take back to the Galactica.

When they returned that afternoon, he was somewhat alarmed to see
Dolmash waiting for them alone. Worriedly he glanced around for
Apollo but the Captain was nowhere in sight. He tried to ask Dolmash
what had happened, his alarm apparent, but Dolmash just smiled at
him in assurance and made a motion that he should return to his
room.  Frightened, Starbuck took off running toward his quarters,
wondering what in hell could have happened.

He burst into the room, praying he'd find Apollo inside, not entirely
certain where to start looking if he did not. He spotted him almost
immediately lying on the bed, still fully clothed save for his
jacket and his gun belt. He opened his eyes as Starbuck approached
him, but did not sit up.

"Apollo?" Starbuck asked hesitantly, moving toward him warily. He
sat on the bed beside him and touched his forehead, wondering if
he were sick.

To his relief Apollo smiled at him, looking remarkably happy and
pleased with himself. "I'm all right, Starbuck," he assured him.
"Just tired."

"Things went well, I take it?" Starbuck asked, guessing that could
be the only reason for the smile.

Apollo nodded. "We got what we wanted. Everything we wanted. All
the fuel and food we need. The fleet is safe. They said they'd
begin sending the first shipment today."

Sounded too good to be true, but Starbuck was loath to discourage
Apollo. "Really?" he asked gently. "What did they want in return?"

Apollo just shrugged at that, looking almost bemused by the answer.
"My blood."

His words sent a cold wave of shock through Starbuck. "I'm sorry?
Did you just say they wanted your blood?" He couldn't quite get
his mind around that answer.

"Two of their moons are currently under quarantine," Apollo explained.
"Their populations have been infected by a disease that they have
been unable to cure. It's killing them -- millions are dying. When
we went through decontamination the other day, they scanned us and
noticed an antibody in my blood they'd never seen before. That's
why they delayed the talks yesterday. Their doctors were running
some tests. Seems they can make a serum with this antibody that
can cure their people. That's all they wanted. They took a sample
today to begin the process."

Starbuck couldn't shake off the feeling of panic gripping his heart.
"I'm sorry, are you saying that they are willing to give us all
the food and all the fuel we need for one sample of your blood?"

"Well, no," Apollo admitted with a somewhat dismissive smile. "Not
one sample. They'll need more than just one sample."

"How much more?" Starbuck demanded.

"Not enough to hurt me," Apollo assured him. "They'll take a little
bit every day. It will take at least two sectons for all the supplies
to be shipped up to the fleet. I'll be staying here until that's
finished. Luckily a little bit of blood goes a long way, and once
they get a large enough quantity and have a bit more time, they
might be able to figure out a way to synthesis it."

"Wait a minute!" Starbuck couldn't believe this. "It doesn't all
have to come from you, does it? What about me? Do I have this
antibody -- or the rest of the fleet? There must be thousands of
people who can donate blood. They don't need to bleed you dry."

"You don't have it," Apollo told him quietly.

"Then someone else! Your father, Athena, someone in the fleet!"

Apollo reached out and caught hold of Starbuck's arm, as if in
effort to calm him down. "No," he said quietly. "I already checked.
Our doctors have never seen it before. They're searching the medical
databases, but they don't think they'll find it."

Starbuck felt sick. "Then where did it come from?" he choked out,
not certain he wanted to hear the answer, because he had a feeling
he already knew what it was.

"Same place the language came from," Apollo guessed.

He had to fight back hysterical laughter. "Of course," he replied.
"Where the frack else could it come from?"

"It's just blood, Starbuck," Apollo replied.

"And what will it be next time?" Starbuck demanded. "You've already
given them your life."

"So have you," Apollo reminded him.

"No," Starbuck shook his head vehemently. "I gave that to you, not
the fleet." He didn't regret saying it, but it was more than he'd
ever revealed before. They had never talked about that moment on
the Ship of Lights, or the sacrifice Starbuck would have willingly
made, and Starbuck wasn't quite certain how to interpret the look
on Apollo's face.

But the hand that moved from his arm to his shoulder was easy enough
to interpret, and the gentle squeeze that same hand gave him was
more than he would have received three days ago. If nothing else
this mission had given them both a way of expressing their friendship
that they had not possessed before. "You've given yourself to the
fleet a thousand times over, Starbuck," Apollo told him honestly.
"Don't deny it. Every time you go out in your Viper, you give your
life to the fleet. It's what we do. It's what we were trained to
do."

Starbuck just nodded, knowing what he meant. But that wasn't what
this was about; Starbuck just didn't have the words to express
that. He would have gotten up then, walked away, but Apollo had
not yet released his grip on his shoulder. He glanced down again
at his friend and was surprised to see a fond smile on his face.

"It's what we were trained to do," Apollo repeated, and it seemed
he wasn't done after all. "But what you just said, about giving
your life to me... you weren't trained for that. No one is trained
for that.  And I thank you for it."

He wouldn't cry, he told himself fiercely. Wouldn't let the tears
that were threatening to burn his eyes form. He fought them back
with everything he had. "Worst moment of my life," he choked out.
"Seeing you dead."

Apollo's hand tightened. "I've had a few of those moments myself."

Starbuck glared fiercely down at him. "Which is why I'm not going
to let it happen again. Not again!"

Apollo nodded his understanding. "It's just a little blood, Starbuck.
I'll be fine. They value life as much as we do. They won't hurt
me."

"I won't let them," Starbuck swore.

Apollo smiled at that, looking almost pleased by the promise. He
settled back against the pillows. "I am tired though," he sighed.
"Will you wake me before dinner?"

Starbuck didn't even bother fighting the impulse to touch him again,
and he stroked his hair back from his forehead. "I'll wake you,"
he promised. "Get some rest." He rose then and left the bed, pulling
one of the bed curtains to darken the area so that the afternoon
sunlight wouldn't disturb his friend.

He waited until he was certain Apollo was asleep, then took the
com-unit into the front room to contact the Galactica. He used
Adama's private channel and bit his lip pensively during the delay
to patch him through.

"Where's Apollo?" Adama asked immediately.

"Resting," Starbuck told him. "Did the doctors find anyone else
with the antibody?"

Adama shook his head. "No. They've never seen it before."

"What about our medical technology? Can we synthesize it for them?"

"Eventually," Adama agreed. "But it would take us as long as it
will take them. And they don't have the time. Their people are
dying now.  And either way, we'd need a substantial amount of
Apollo's blood to do it as well. Starbuck, how much blood did they
take?"

Starbuck's jaw clenched. "I don't know, I wasn't there. I'll watch
tomorrow. I won't let them take too much."

"How is he?"

"He says he's fine."

Adama frowned. "What do you think?" That was definitely the tone
of a concerned father asking.

Starbuck swallowed past the painful lump in his throat as he searched
for an answer. "I think... I think that he'd let them cut off both
his arms and still say he was fine if he thought it would help the
fleet."

The concerned father paled at that, panicking, but the Commander
was quick to return. "Starbuck, Doctor Salik had an idea. The
Corvalans can't use your blood, but Apollo can."

"A transfusion!" Starbuck was quick to catch on.

"Yes," Adama nodded. "You have the same blood type. If they take
too much from Apollo, they can replace it with yours."

"Understood," Starbuck nodded, feeling some measure of relief at
last.  He did have a way of saving him after all if things went
too far.

"Tell Apollo that the Corvalans are making good on their promise.
They have a gravity lift on one of their worlds. They're flinging
the supplies onto an orbiting platform. We brought the first shipment
on board an hour ago. The fleet will be fine." Starbuck could hear
the relief in the Commander's voice, knew it was the same sense of
duty his son possessed that made him think first for his people
before even his own son.

"How's Boxey?" he asked.

Adama smiled, his expression lightening. "Asking about the both of
you. He misses you both. Sends his love."

"Tell him we'll be back as soon as we can," Starbuck smiled.

"Talk to you tomorrow, Lieutenant," Adama nodded, then added in
parting, "keep an eye on him."

As Starbuck turned the com-unit off, he spared a moment to wonder
how telling it was that he had not asked about Cassiopeia. He
wondered if Adama had found that odd.
 _________________________________________________________________

Apollo seemed much improved when Starbuck woke him a few hours
later for dinner. Assuring Starbuck that he felt fine, he spared
a few minutes to get cleaned up before they headed down to dinner.
Starbuck kept a close eye on him, not quite so ready to believe
Apollo's words.  He looked all right -- a bit pale perhaps, though
he suspected that was from exhaustion rather than any amount of
blood loss. But for once Apollo was quick to smile, and Starbuck
realized that if nothing else, he no longer felt the pressing worry
he had the day before. They had the trade agreement they needed,
now they simply had to hold the status quo and retain peaceful
relations for the duration of their stay.

Starbuck perversely felt more stressed than before -- making a bad
impression now on their hosts would probably not result in a loss
of the trade agreement, but it might result in a certain carelessness
with Apollo's life. He found it somewhat ironic that he was more
willing to risk the fleet than he was his friend.

The dinner this night was a formal affair -- full court turning
out in attendance to celebrate the trade agreement that would save
the lives of millions of their people. So many people were present
that the banquet was moved to a different room, this one larger,
with the low table set in a circle around the edges of the room,
leaving the opening free for musicians and dancers. Applause greeted
Starbuck's and Apollo's entrance and they were seated beside the
Emperor and Marshent in a place of high honor. At the start of the
meal the Emperor stood and spoke some words, which the people
cheered enthusiastically.

Apollo translated for Starbuck, looking relieved as he spoke. "He
said that in concern for my health, Marshent will refrain from
drinking Mookta tonight, thus freeing all the Urvals from having
to get drunk.  Instead he invited everyone to partake of what ever
beverage they desire -- I believe that last part translated as an
open bar."

"In concern for your health?" Starbuck repeated. "I knew that stuff
was bad for you."

"I can't believe I'm hearing you criticize an alcoholic beverage,"
Apollo teased.

"There's a difference between Mookta and ambrosa," Starbuck pointed
out. "Anything that can make you sing can't be good."

Apollo looked genuinely shocked. "I sang?" he exclaimed.

Starbuck threw him an incredulous look. "Oh, *that* would be the
one thing you'd forget." Though he had to admit, he rather liked
the shade of red Apollo was turning.

"I did not sing," the Captain grumbled.

"You did," Starbuck insisted. "My true love's eyes are blue as the
sea," he quoted one of the lines from the song.

"I didn't sing that!" Apollo insisted. "I don't even know all the
words to that song."

"You did last night," Starbuck remarked smugly, wondering what
Apollo would do if he asked him if he also remembered begging
Starbuck to suck his tongue.

"You know this would be a whole lot easier if you'd forget a thing
or two," Apollo pointed out.

"I'll do my best," Starbuck replied. "But I can't promise you
anything."

While the Mookta was not required tonight, it was a formal dinner
and the Thean'd that night was required, the first round of courses
coming through and the moment upon them even as they talked. To
Starbuck surprise, Apollo leaned over without hesitation and kissed
him lightly on the mouth. "Thank you, Starbuck," he said quietly.

Bewildered, Starbuck raised one eyebrow. "For what?"

Apollo just shook his head and smiled. "For being my wingmate. And
my best friend." His words brought back their conversation that
morning, and Starbuck knew what he was thanking him for -- for
assuring him that this would not come between them. That no matter
what, this would not change anything.

Starbuck smiled and nodded. And wished like hell that he could tell
Apollo the truth -- that this changed everything for him, because
he knew now that he loved him.

The evening passed slowly at first, and Starbuck made it a point
to keep the contact between him and Apollo light, worried about
giving away too much. But as the night progressed, it became obvious
that the Corvalans were more than willing to make up for the lack
of forced Mookta drinking. The majority of the people present were
becoming quite drunk on various beverages, and more times than
Starbuck cared to count someone called out a toast in Apollo's and
Starbuck's honor.  They both felt obliged to drink something then,
but kept the drinking to a minimum and then only the mildest of
beverages they could find, sticking again with water the rest of
the time.

Half way through the feast a group of musicians and dancers began
performing in the center of the room, and as they watched Starbuck
realized that there was something vaguely familiar about the story
the dancers were acting out. It didn't take him too long to figure
it out as the dance became more erotic than he'd expected -- he'd
seen these scenes before, in the paintings and the statues Breeanth
had shown him that first day. When the first bits of colorful
clothing began to come off the dancers, he felt Apollo stiffen
beside him and guessed his friend had just figured it out too.

"Oh, good gods," Apollo whispered, and the look of wide-eyed shock
on the man's face was reminiscent of that first day when he'd
realized that he'd have to kiss Starbuck.

Starbuck leaned closer to him. "How many of those dirty statues
did you get a chance a look at?"

"Enough," Apollo whispered back. "Starbuck, they wouldn't actually...."
He couldn't finish the statement.

Starbuck glanced around the room. The dancers weren't the only ones
who were happily losing clothing, but then he'd had his suspicions
about this aspect of Corvalan culture from day one. "They would,"
Starbuck nodded, indicating some of the couples around him. "And
they're not the only ones. I think this is meant to be an interactive
performance."

"Starbuck," Apollo hissed at him. "We're not going to have to...
I mean... I can't!"

Starbuck looked up at his friend, realizing that Apollo was genuinely
panicking. He caught him quickly, pulling him toward him and kissing
him, then kissed the side of his face and his neck, effectively
hiding the panicked look from anyone who might be watching them.
"Calm down, Apollo," he murmured into his ear. "No, we're not going
to have to... you know..." he couldn't quite find an euphemism that
he thought Apollo would be comfortable with. "In any event, I doubt
very much that Dolmash is planning on doing anything more with
Breeanth that they did that first night, remember. And that old
couple over there -- I don't think they're capable of doing anything
too excessive."

He felt rather than saw Apollo beginning to calm. The man was
gripping his jacket, breathing hard against his neck, and Starbuck
had to admit he found the warmth of his breath quite nice. A part
of him wanted to take back what he'd just say, wanted to tell Apollo
that they did have to do this -- that he did have to let Starbuck
make love to him.  Despite his panic, he had a feeling that somehow
Apollo would allow even that if he genuinely thought it was necessary.
But as much as he might want to, he couldn't do that to his friend.
If he was completely honest with himself, he wasn't too thrilled
with the idea of an audience either.

His words had calmed the man down, and he stroked his hair soothingly,
pausing to kiss him again lightly on the mouth. He marveled at how
easily Apollo accepted his kisses now, barely any hesitation any
more.  He supposed it was possible to get used to just about
anything.

"I don't particularly want to watch it either," Apollo confessed.

Starbuck glanced back at the dancers. They had already gone several
stages past what even he felt was acceptable public behavior, though
he had to admit the couple involved were remarkably lovely to look
at.  But even in his wild youth Apollo had refused to go to strip
clubs with the other cadets. "Then don't look at them," he said
quietly.  "Focus on me. Forget they're there. Somehow I don't think
anyone will notice." Truth be told, everyone else seem quite happily
occupied.

Apollo nodded and took Starbuck's answer to heart. Rather than move
away, he slid closer to him and leaned against him, allowing Starbuck
to take him into his arms much as he had that first night when he'd
been too drunk to sit up straight. With his head resting against
Starbuck shoulder, he focused his gaze instead on their entwined
hands, occupying his attention by playing with Starbuck's fingers.

They ate, they talked quietly together about the ship and the people
they knew, and from time to time they paused to kiss one another
as was expected. And if their kisses became longer, more heated,
deeper, Apollo didn't seem to notice, or didn't seem to mind, and
Starbuck was certainly not going to point that fact out to him.
Mostly, however, they kept their attention off the dancers and the
people around them.

Eventually a half-clad Emperor, and very debauched looking royal
consort bid them good night, and Starbuck and Apollo took that as
their cue to leave the feast that now more resembled an orgy. As
they left they noticed Dolmash escorting the young Breeanth from
the room, as well as one or two other couples who for various
reasons had chosen not to participate fully in the nights activity.
To their surprise the old couple did not leave, and one curious
glance back at them left both Apollo and Starbuck bright red with
embarrassment. Neither man could help the side-splitting laughter
that erupted from them when they were finally safely back in their
rooms.

"Lords, Starbuck! I could have gone my whole life without seeing
that!" Apollo roared between laughs.

"Oh, my eyes!" Starbuck groaned. "I think I'm blind! Did you see
that old woman? She was ri..."

"I saw!" Apollo cut him off. "I don't need a recap!"

They laughed until they were exhausted, when Starbuck asked, "You
know, I was thinking. What do you think your father would have done
if he had decided to come down here himself to conduct the
negotiations?"

Apollo's eyes widened, and despite the exhaustion they both burst
into laugher again. "With whom?" Apollo choked out between chuckles.
"Siress Tinia?" The very idea of Commander Adama and Siress Tinia
being subjected to the orgy they'd just witness was beyond imagination,
but Starbuck could go one better.

"Colonel Tigh," he suggested.

"Oh, Lords!" Apollo groaned. "I think my brain just melted!"

It was nearly an hour before either of them could calm down enough
to go to bed. To Starbuck's delight, shortly after settling down
into the first stages of a light sleep, Apollo turned to him and
once again wrapped himself around Starbuck's body. Starbuck snuggled
against him and fell into a contented slumber.
 _________________________________________________________________

Breakfast was a lighter affair the following morning, most people
having consumed too much the night before to be overly interested
in eating much that morning. But when it came time at the end of
the meal to go their separate ways -- Apollo to go first to the
doctors, and then to spend the day with the Emperor discussing the
various food needs of the fleet, and Starbuck to go sight seeing
with Breeanth -- Starbuck protested.

"I want to go with you," he told Apollo, determined that he would
not allow them to draw Apollo's blood unless he was there at his
side.

Apollo looked surprised at his insistence. "Starbuck, I don't think
it's allowed. It's not their custom."

But Starbuck had already given that considerable thought, and he
saw the curious looks the Emperor and the others were given him.
"I want to go with him," he insisted again, speaking this time to
the Emperor.  He knew the man couldn't understand his words, but
he suspected he'd understand the meaning behind them by the way he
held tightly to Apollo's arms, refusing to let him leave.

"Starbuck, what are you doing? Don't make a fuss," Apollo begged,
looking worried by the thought that they might offend their hosts.

But on this, Starbuck felt fairly certain he was correct. Acting
like a protecting warrior would get him nowhere -- these people
had no interest whatsoever in warriors or battles. But they would
understand the concerns of a frightened lover. He threw his arms
around Apollo, crushing him against him as he kissed him passionately,
holding nothing back as he plundered the startled man's mouth,
letting all his fear and desperation show in the act. When finally
he released the stunned man he looked stubbornly at the Emperor.
"I want to go with him," he repeated, and to his relief he saw that
this time the Emperor was smiling.

The Emperor nodded, and spoke a few words to Apollo and the others
around them. Many of the others were smiling as well, and when they
stood aside to escort Apollo to the medical facilities, they left
room for Starbuck to walk beside him.

Still looking somewhat stunned by the kiss, Apollo held tightly to
Starbuck's hand as they walked. "How did you know?" he asked softly.

"I actually watched some of that dance last night," Starbuck
confessed, and then seeing Apollo's frown rolled his eyes. "The
story, not the naughty bits." Though he saw some fair bit of that
as well.  "They would never refuse a lover's request. It would go
against their religion."

Apollo fell silent at that but seem to accept the explanation.

The medical facility wasn't too unlike the one they had on board
the ship -- similar technologies of comparable sophistication. At
the doctor's request, Apollo took off his jacket and sat down on
one of the beds, then rolled up the sleeve of his uniform. Under
the watchful eye of Starbuck, the Emperor and several of his nobles,
the doctor withdrew a measured amount of blood from Apollo's arms.
To Starbuck it looked like too much. "Apollo, you can't sustain
that much blood loss for two sectons," Starbuck protested.

"Yes, I can, Starbuck," Apollo assured him. "I had Doctor Salik
send them the measurements. I'll be tired, possibly weak by the
end of the time, but it won't kill me."

"I want to see those measurements myself," Starbuck informed him.

Apollo looked up in surprise at that. "You don't believe me?"

"I just want to double check," Starbuck insisted. "Commander's
orders."

"He told you to double check the measurements?" Apollo asked.

"He told me to look out for you," Starbuck corrected.

"He always tells you that," Apollo shrugged dismissively.

"I take my duty very seriously," Starbuck replied, his tone flat
though he knew Apollo had expected him to make a joke.

Apollo finally just nodded in acknowledgement and Starbuck knew he
would get no further argument from the man. The doctor indicated
that he was finished and spoke briefly to the Emperor while Apollo
adjusted his sleeve and put his jacket back on. Finally the Emperor
turned to Starbuck and said something to him with a kind smile.

Apollo translated for him. "He wanted to know if you were satisfied
that your... that I'm safe." Starbuck didn't miss the correction
Apollo made in his translation.

"What word did he use?" he demanded, wanting the exact translation.
He had not used Apollo's name.

This time Starbuck suspected it was due to blood loss that the
color that infused Apollo's face was only vaguely pink. "Beloved,"
he said some what sheepishly.

Starbuck smiled and nodded to the Emperor. "Yes, thank you," he
said in Corvalan, determined that day to learn a few more words of
their tongue. Beloved, for example. He rather liked the idea of
referring to Apollo like that.

With the blood-draw taken care of, Starbuck allowed Apollo to be
led away, and he rejoined Breeanth that day for a trip to one of
their royal zoos. As he promised, he checked the measurements
carefully with Doctor Salik that evening, and was only partially
satisfied with the results. Doctor Salik had told Apollo and the
Corvalans the maximum amount of blood they could draw before injuring
Apollo -- but he'd suggested a smaller dose for safety. The Corvalans
were taking the maximum, something Apollo had already agreed to in
contract. Apollo had no intention of breaking the contract, and
against all reason Starbuck suspected that now the man felt
responsible for the Corvalan lives he was saving as well as the
fleet.
 _________________________________________________________________

It would be several days before the blood loss affected the Captain,
but after five days of it Apollo's paleness was apparent even to
the Emperor, and he often expressed his concern and his gratitude
at dinner. Apollo tired more easily, and more often than Starbuck
cared to point out he forgot which language he was speaking and
said many things that Starbuck never would get a translation for.
But as his exhaustion increased, the demands on his time became
less, and more often than not after his trip to the doctor he would
return to his room to rest for the day rather than spending more
time with the Emperor.

Starbuck, on the other hand, became more in demand as the nobles
lost access to Apollo. Though he didn't speak their language, he
did manage to pick up a word or two here and there, and many of
the Corvalans seem to find it amusing to pantomime conversations
at him throughout the day. They went at it with great delight, and
in the first secton he was there, Starbuck suspected he managed to
do more sight seeing than most Corvalans did in a lifetime.

Under the circumstances, sooner or later, it was almost inevitable
that something went wrong.

Starbuck had agreed to spend the day with Breeanth and four other
women from the court while Apollo rested in their rooms. This time,
however, rather than take him into the city, they took him up on
a long cable car that led to a restaurant high atop a mountain peak
that sported an extraordinary view. There were hover cars and
airlifts that took visitors to and from the restaurant as well,
but the women thought the more old fashioned cable car would be
more exciting.  Starbuck, though not afraid of heights -- a
requirement for a Viper pilot -- was none too thrilled about being
suspended in a small metal box thousands of feet above the ground,
with only couple of thin cables hold them up. But he kept his
concerns to himself and indulged the ladies.

The meal was excellent, the view spectacular, and the trip back
down the mountain a total disaster. Half way down the mountain a
strong wind struck the car and set the box to swinging. The women
all laughed nervously, and despite the language barrier, Starbuck
tried to say a few words to calm them down. Would have worked, he
supposed if at that very moment a rather large avian hadn't been
blown off course by the very same breeze and slammed violently into
one of the glass windows.  The force of the blow shattered the
window, and amid the sound of breaking glass and the screams of
frightened women, Starbuck heard another sound. One of the cables
holding up the box snapped under the strain and the car tilted over
onto its side. The momentum threw them all against the glass windows
-- all save Breeanth who was standing closest to the broken window.
She struck the broken window and fell out, dropping out of sight
with a scream of terror.

Horrified, Starbuck scrambled toward the open window when he realized
that he could still hear Breeanth's screams. One look out revealed
that miraculously the girl had somehow gotten tangled up in the
snapped cable. The cord wrapped around one of her bleeding legs as
she hung precariously over a thousand-foot drop below. She was
sobbing and screaming and though Starbuck couldn't understand her
words, knew she was begging for help.

Unfortunately the other women were screaming as well, and Starbuck
feared they'd unbalance the car if they moved around too much.
Lacking a common language he had to use hand motions to get them
to calm down, urging them as quickly as he possibly could to move
into positions he felt would best keep the car steady and minimize
the chance of any of them falling out as well. Then taking a deep
breath, he reached out through the broken window, caught hold of
the damaged cable, and swung out of the car as carefully as he
could. He was certain they would send hovercrafts for them when
they realized what had happened. But he doubted very much Breeanth
had that much time left. He knew it was only a matter of moments
before her leg slipped free of the cable and she plunged to her
death. He had no choice but to get her himself.

Carefully, hand over hand, he lowered himself down the cable toward
the screaming girl. The wind up here was bitter cold and he felt
his hands growing numb as he climbed. But he couldn't afford to
slip.  Falling would mean Breeanth's death as well as his own. It
took him far too long, he thought, to make his way down the cable,
but eventually he found himself at a level where he could reach
Breeanth if she would just be willing to reach upward toward him.

"Breeanth!" he shouted, cursing now that he couldn't speak her
language. "Grab my hand!" He waved his hand toward her, praying
she understood.

Understanding or not, the girl saw him as a savior and instinctively
reached out toward him in panic. On the second pass through, Starbuck
caught her hand in a fierce grip, nearly slipping himself when the
extra weight of the girl pulled at his one-handed grip on the cable.
He could feel the cold metal biting into his skin and he wished
now he'd thought to wear gloves. He pulled Breeanth up toward him,
and to his relief, her leg slipped free fairly easily as the angle
of her body changed. She was smart enough to know that he couldn't
hold her long one-handed, and she quickly wrapped both arms and
legs around his body, burying her face against his neck as she
sobbed in terror.

Freed of the burden of having to hold Breeanth himself, Starbuck
was able to grasp the cable more firmly. He wasn't certain, however,
that he possessed the strength to climb back up to the relative
safety of the car. But he also knew that he wouldn't be able to
hold on indefinitely, and he had yet to see any signs of hover cars
coming to their rescue.

Hand over hand he began pulling himself back up, the extra weight
of the girl and the icy wind making the progress slow and painful.
The other women in the car had calmed now, and were watching in
wide-eyed but silent terror as he climbed. They waited until he
was nearly at the broken window before two of them risked moving,
and they reached out to him to help pull them both inside.

Starbuck collapsed inside the car and was only vaguely aware of a
sobbing Breeanth untangling herself from around him. His hands were
slick with blood, and he wondered that he hadn't slipped as he
climbed. Someone touched his hair, someone patted his back, and he
thought he felt someone else softly kiss his cheek. They had only
to wait another five centons before the sounds of hover cars filled
the air. Even then Starbuck knew the danger had not completely
passed. The car was rocking dangerously in the wind and the hover
cars could only come so close. The women would have to be dropped
down onto them through the broken window.

He waited until he could see the first car positioned, then he
motioned to one of the women to take his hands. At a signal from
a man inside the craft, he took a strong grip on the woman's wrists
and lowered her down through open window. She sobbed as she dropped,
but went without struggling. When she was safely caught in the arms
of the man below, Starbuck motioned to the next woman.

One by one he lowered them down through the window, having to wait
briefly for another hover car to position itself below them for
Breeanth and then finally himself. When it came his turn, lacking
someone to lower him, he had no choice but to grab the swinging
cable again and use that to lower himself down. By then his hands
were nearly numb, and he thought for certain he would slip.
Eventually, positioned as accurately as he could manage, he forced
himself to release the cable and drop, praying that he'd land in
the craft below.

He felt several hands reaching out to steady him as his feet hit
solid metal, and he sank with relief onto the floor of the hover
car as the driver closed the top hatch and then sped away, returning
to the palace with those rescued. Breeanth, terrified, threw her
arms around Starbuck's neck and sobbed out words he couldn't
understand. Despite the blood on his hands, Starbuck just patted
her back and told her she was welcome.

There was a crowd of people waiting for them back at the palace
when they landed. Dolmash was there immediately to lift Breeanth
out of the car and hold her sobbing form in his arms as he tried
desperately to comfort her.

Starbuck, as he emerged from the car, looked up in time to see a
very pale, grim-looking Apollo striding toward him through the
crowd.  Before Starbuck could say anything to assure him he was
all right, Apollo caught him in a fierce hug, and in a display that
nearly melted Starbuck's bones, kissed him thoroughly in front of
several dozen strangers who cheered at the sight. Starbuck, caught
up in shock and delighted bemusement, couldn't help but think that
somehow this felt different -- more real, as if for one moment
Apollo had forgotten himself, dropped his reserve, and had meant
this as more than just an act to keep up appearances. Certainly
the tremors he felt shivering through the man's body were not faked.
Even when the kiss had ended, Apollo did not release him immediately,
holding him tightly in an unbreakable hug. Despite the noise around
him, Starbuck heard the words he spoke into his ear. "I thought I
lost you."

"Not in this lifetime," Starbuck promised, though they both knew
it was an empty promise. Neither of them could promise such things,
being the men they were and lives they led. The realization did
nothing, however, to help calm Apollo, and Starbuck felt him begin
to shake more violently, his own weakened state contributing to
the rise in emotion.

Apollo relied on Starbuck to ease the tension -- always had. And
Starbuck couldn't let him down now, even though he imagined he
would be quite content to remain in the man's arms for the rest of
eternity.  "You do realize that it's against regulations to hug a
junior officer, don't you?"

It had been said before, or something similar to that at another
time long ago. But still it was enough to make Apollo choke out a
laugh and catch his breath before releasing Starbuck from his hold.
Then Dolmash was there and many others, thanking Starbuck profusely
for his heroics. Apollo translated the words as best he could before
finally taking Starbuck's arm and leading him back inside the palace
where several medical doctors were waiting to see to his hands.

He sat patiently inside the same medical facility Apollo went to
every morning to have himself bled, and he winced under the treatment
of the doctors as they repaired the damaged skin on his palms. "A
camera caught the accident," Apollo explained to Starbuck as he
stood beside him. "It was broadcasted live on their news channel.
Marshent came and got me himself. We saw you climbing down that
cable to rescue Breeanth. I think the Emperor is planning on giving
you a medal."

"I'd rather they give you a day or two off from bleeding you
instead," Starbuck replied.

Apollo sat beside him and clasped his shoulder, but said nothing
more.  And Starbuck knew he'd never make the suggestion. But when
his hands were once again relatively whole, he was more than content
to test out his newfound skin by taking hold of Apollo's hand as
they walked back to their quarters. Once there, Starbuck dropped
down onto the bed in exhaustion, pulling Apollo down beside him.
Both of them in need of sleep, he made no pretense of waiting for
Apollo to fall asleep before slipping his arms around him. Apollo
said nothing either, simply relaxed his body against Starbuck's,
and slept.
 _________________________________________________________________

The Emperor did indeed give him a medal -- a wildly ornate thing
encrusted with many tiny colored gems. He was asked to kneel before
Emperor Va'shtle before the start of dinner, and the court cheered
happily as the medal was hung around his neck. They continued
cheering as he somewhat shyly returned to Apollo's side, embarrassed
as he had always been by the attention. But that embarrassment
quickly turned to other things as he sat down beside Apollo only
to be taken into the man's arms and kissed once again, for once
finding himself on the receiving end of a kiss that was far more
aggressive than Apollo usually initiated.

But the applause that erupted at the end of the kiss suggested it
was all part and parcel of the Corvalan customs Apollo was still
sticking so strictly to -- for it also seemed to signal Dolmash
and four other men to come forward and lay bouquets of colorful
flowers on the table before both Starbuck and Apollo. The spoke
briefly, and Starbuck turned to Apollo for the translation.

"They are the Lifemates of the other women you saved today," he
explained, indicating the men he had not yet met. "They simply want
to express their thanks to you -- and wish you joy and long life
with... well, they're wishing you joy and long life." Again Starbuck
caught the adjustment Apollo made in the translation. This time
however he was able to translate it himself, recognizing some of
the words they had used.

"Wish me joy and long life with my Tir'za," he corrected Apollo,
remembering that last time Apollo had translated that word as
'beloved'.

A secton ago Apollo would have blushed at the implications, today
however he paled instead. He lowered his gaze, a sure sign that he
was withdrawing from the emotion of the moment, and yet at the same
time he made no move to remove the arm he had draped around Starbuck's
shoulder. "Well, they mean me, I suppose," he remarked quietly.
"But I'm sure you can pass on the sentiment to Cassiopeia."

His words left Starbuck baffled. A secton ago he would have
interpreted them as a joke, or as a pointed reminder that all of
this was an illusion being forced on the two of them that they
would both quite happily forget about when they returned to the
ship. But now he desperately wanted to interpret those words as
some sign of jealousy, some sign that Apollo wanted him to deny
that he had reason to pass those words on to Cassie. But if they
were jealousy, why hadn't they been said with any heat? Why hadn't
he heard even the smallest trace of anger in Apollo's voice, or
just the faintest taint of bitterness? But they also had not been
said with the humor of a joke, or the sternness of a reminder.

So if he couldn't assign any of those interpretations to them, what
was left? Simple disinterest, he wondered. Could Apollo honestly
not care at all? But if he didn't care, what in Hades was that
display in the courtyard that afternoon? The kiss may have been
culturally necessary, but he honestly didn't think that the emotion
behind it had been faked. Apollo had genuinely been afraid for
Starbuck's life. And no amount of reasoning or interpretation was
going to take that moment away from him.

But now, despite the arm Apollo still had around him, Starbuck felt
a distance between the two of them that he had not felt all secton.
And now more than ever, he didn't like it. Trouble was, he wasn't
certain what to do to breech it -- he didn't know its cause, and
so didn't know the words that might end it.

To his surprise he suddenly felt Apollo's fingers gently stroking
his hair, lightly tangling in the gold locks before brushing almost
imperceptibly against the nape of his neck. The touch sent chills
down Starbuck's spine and it was all he could do not to purr with
pleasure.  He turned to look at Apollo, wondering what had prompted
the gesture when he was so obviously trying to maintain an emotional
distance.  Dinner had barely started, and while more intimate
gestures would be required soon enough, they were not necessary
now.

Apollo however was staring lost in thought at the flowers upon the
table, seeming unaware of his actions. Starbuck frowned, studying
his face, trying to figure out what was going through the man's
mind. His scrutiny caught Apollo's attention, and he turned toward
him in question. Realization flooded his eyes immediately when he
saw where his hand was and his fingers stilled. "I'm sorry," he
apologized, letting his arm drop away from Starbuck's shoulder.
"That was probably driving you nuts. I know how much you hate it."

Starbuck felt the absence of that arm around his shoulder with a
painful intensity. "What would make you think that?" he questioned,
baffled.

Apollo frowned. "You told me you did."

Starbuck recalled only a few scant times that Apollo had ever
actually touched his hair like that -- all happening in this last
secton. And at no point during that time could he ever recall saying
anything about hating it -- how could he possible hate something
that made his nerves sing. "I never said any such thing!"

"Yes, you did," Apollo insisted, looking vaguely surprised at
Starbuck's protest.

"When?"

Apollo shrugged. "Maybe a yahren ago," he told him. "In the Officer's
Club, you were complaining one night about Cassie doing that to
you at dinner the night before -- that it had been irritating the
felgercarb out of you -- I believe those were your words."

He remembered the conversation, though only vaguely, and he remembered
the incident in question as well. Cassiopeia had an annoying habit
of playing with his hair whenever they sat down to dinner. She'd
done it right from the start of their relationship. And Apollo was
right -- he did hate it, or at least he always had when someone
else had done it, someone other than Apollo. He found himself
searching desperately for a convenient lie. "She was pulling my
hair," he told him. "Yanking on it. I didn't like that."

Apollo's eyes narrowed thoughtfully as if he wasn't certain what
point Starbuck was trying to make.

"I don't dislike it," Starbuck insisted. "I mean..." Starbuck
stopped in frustration realizing that he couldn't say what he wanted
to say. He could just see Apollo's reaction if he told the man that
he wanted him to continue stroking his hair, that he really liked
it, and would he please never stop. Apollo would probably think
he'd received a head injury out on that cable car. He just sighed
and shook his head. Apollo, sadly, did not put his arm back over
Starbuck's shoulder.

The food tasted unusually good that night, though Starbuck had to
admit that life and death struggles generally made him extraordinarily
hungry. And despite their misunderstanding over the hair, Apollo
was very attentive that night. While not as aggressive as he was
under the influence of Mookta, he nonetheless initiated more of
the kisses than he usually did, going so far as to even deepen one
himself. The realization that for once it was Apollo trying to
gently coax his mouth open made Starbuck moan in pleasure as he
welcomed the man into him. Apollo took his time with the kiss, and
Starbuck had the passing thought that maybe he had died that day
and this was heaven.

But the kiss, he reasoned, wouldn't end if this was heaven, and
all too soon it did. Apollo's face was once again inscrutable, his
expression unreadable as he paused to study Starbuck. Starbuck felt
his own color rising beneath that unusual scrutiny as he imaged
his own expression was probably far from unreadable -- he knew he
had that lean hungry look in his eyes.

"You all right?" Apollo asked, startling Starbuck enough that he
drew back to clear his muddled brain. Apollo looked genuinely
concerned.

"What?"

"Are you..." Apollo bit back his words and looked away, lips thinning
with some emotion that Starbuck hoped was not anger. "Are you..."
he tried again and then just sighed. "Don't do that to me again."

Starbuck paled. What in Hades had he done now? Don't kiss him?
Don't respond to his kisses? Had Apollo figured out that Starbuck
wasn't 'acting' any more -- and what in Sagan's name was he going
to do if Apollo was genuinely pissed off about this? "Apollo, I..."

"Half a centon after you landed safely in the hovercraft, the other
cable on the car broke. The whole thing fell." His words hit Starbuck
like a bucket of ice water, but at least now he understood what
was wrong with his friend.

"Frack," he whispered, realizing how close he'd actually come to
dying that day.

Apollo just nodded in agreement, gaze once again on the flowers
lying on the table. Many of the colorful blooms in the bouquets
were a type of Corvalan lily, a symbol of life and hope in their
culture. In Caprican traditions, lilies were only sent to funerals.

Apollo made no attempt to stiffen or move away when Starbuck slid
his arms around him. Far from it, he leaned back into the embrace
and stayed there the rest of the evening.
 _________________________________________________________________

The remaining days with the Corvalans passed slowly for Starbuck.
He went every morning with Apollo to the medical facility and
watched with growing anxiety as more blood was taken from his
friend. Apollo was growing paler and weaker with each passing day,
and he spent more time sleeping now than he did awake. Starbuck
insisted on remaining at his side for the duration, something that
the Corvalans seemed to understand completely.

Often he was able to coax him into sitting with him in one of the
gardens to enjoy the sunshine. He even managed on those occasions
to get Apollo to recline against him, held in his loose embrace
while he read old Caprican stories to the exhausted man from one
of the data units they'd brought with them. From their days in the
Academy, Starbuck remembered the stories Apollo had liked the best,
and the Captain would listen attentively. But he was usually fast
asleep before the stories ended. Starbuck was content to let him
rest then, falling silent eventually, and just enjoying the fresh
air and the warmth of Apollo in his arms. Once, he even stole a
kiss from the sleeping man, but found himself feeling more guilty
for that than he had all his other transgressions, innocent though
it had been.

Apollo made every attempt to fulfill his other duties, calling the
Galactica every evening for progress reports on the supply
transference. But far from being relieved to see him on the com-unit
night after night, Adama looked more alarmed each night by his
son's appearance. And more and more Apollo was struggling for the
correct words -- struggling to manage the foreign language that
had been embedded in his mind. From the looks of the tension around
his eyes, Starbuck had surmised that the headache had become his
constant companion, and the painkillers Starbuck had given him were
no longer helping at all.

He watched in silence one night as Apollo tried to speak with his
father about the latest progress report on the mining operation
that was supplying them with their much needed fuel. The fourth
time Apollo had lapsed into Corvalan, only to stop and stutter,
looking ashamed that he could no longer find the correct Kobolian
words, Starbuck decided to put an end to the transmission.

He caught hold of Apollo's shoulders, noting in concern that the
man was shaking. "If you'll forgive me, sir," he said to the
com-unit, addressing the Commander. A gentle tug pulled Apollo to
his feet, and he walked the man across the room toward the bed. He
didn't even have to coax the man down onto the mattress. Apollo
went willingly, and closed his eyes as his head hit the pillow.
"I'll be right back," Starbuck told him softly, then returned to
the still active com-unit.

Adama was waiting for him, looking anxious and old, as if these
last few days had aged him. "Starbuck?" he asked worriedly as
Starbuck sat down in front of the device.

"Sorry about that, sir," he apologized. "I put him to bed."

"Are they taking too much?" Adama demanded immediately.

"Too much is a relative term," Starbuck said pointedly; in his
opinion they had gone far beyond that point. "But Doctor Salik says
no, that Apollo can handle it. I think a lot of it is the headaches."

"Headaches?" Adama frowned.

Starbuck sighed -- of course Apollo had not said anything. Shouldn't
surprise him. "He didn't tell you," he stated flatly. "Of course
he didn't. He's had headaches from day one. I think it's the
language. I think that's why he keeps getting confused."

Adama nodded in understanding. "There's been some speculation about
that," he admitted. "Doctor Salik suspects that the Corvalan language
is stored in a part of Apollo's brain that isn't typically used
for language. Maybe the stress of accessing it continuously is what
is causing the pain. Has he taken anything for it?"

"Standard painkillers," Starbuck replied. "But they don't seem to
be helping much any more."

"Four more days," Adama told him. "Then we'll have all the supplies
and you can bring him home."

"The Corvalans haven't tried to delay any of the shipments?" Starbuck
asked. Everything he knew about the Corvalans told him that they
were an honest people, but he wasn't gong to take any chances with
Apollo's life.

"No," Adama assured him. "They've been nothing but efficient. Though
we actually haven't had any real contact with them -- they ship
the supplies onto the space platform, and then let us transfer them
to the fleet. Just as well, since we can't communicate with them
as it is."

Starbuck just nodded. He'd guessed the arrangement had been something
like that. "Four more days, sir," he said then. "Have a medical
team standing by when we return." With Adama's agreement, he signed
off.

Returning to the bed, Starbuck was surprised to notice that Apollo
was not asleep. Rather he was curled onto his side and was holding
his head, rubbing ineffectually at his temples. Starbuck sat down
beside him and quickly began stripping his uniform off him. Apollo
made no protest; it wasn't the first time Starbuck had done this
for him. But once he had Apollo undressed and under the blankets,
he moved up toward the head of the bed and ran the fingers of both
his hands through Apollo's hair. Apollo's eyes opened in surprise
at that.  "Star?" he asked in confusion.

"Relax," Starbuck said quietly as he began gently to massage his
head.  "Let me do this for you. It will help."

Apollo opened his mouth to protest. But instead a soft sigh came
out as Starbuck's fingers danced over his scalp. He gave up and
closed his eyes, moaning softly as some of the lines of tension
began at last to ease.

He kept up the gentle massage for nearly half a centare, until
Apollo's face looked relaxed and pain free. When he finished, Apollo
opened tired eyes and smiled at him in gratitude. "Thank you," he
murmured, and Starbuck noticed a slight shiver working its way
through the man's body.

"You cold?" he asked.

Apollo nodded. "Doc said it was to be expected. Less blood to keep
me warm."

Quickly, Starbuck stood up and stripped off his own uniform, then
climbed into the bed beside Apollo. "Come here," he urged, slipping
his arms around the man and spooning up against him. He was relieved
when Apollo made no move to stop him, moving willingly into his
embrace. Starbuck pulled the blankets firmly up around both of
them, trapping their body heat inside.

"You know this is against regulations." Apollo's words were so
unexpected, and so welcomed that Starbuck started laughing. He
hadn't heard the man make a joke in days, and he himself had been
decidedly lacking in humor. He tightened his arms around his friend.

"No, it's not," he insisted. "The Academy survival manual specifically
spells out this exact thing for surviving in freezing climates."

"It's summer," Apollo reminded him. "Hardly a freezing climate."

"I don't know," Starbuck replied. "Those look like snowflakes to
me." He motioned toward the open balcony doors where even in the
moonlight they could see tiny pale white shapes drifting on the
breeze.

"Apple blossoms," Apollo corrected, sounding nearly half asleep
now.  "I miss Caprica," he added almost as an afterthought.

Starbuck knew exactly what he was remembering -- long twilights on
their family estate when the fruit trees were first losing their
spring blossoms. "So do I," he admitted softly, burying his face
in Apollo's hair. "So do I."
 _________________________________________________________________

They survived the next few days of feasts and celebrations, Apollo
struggling through them with a determination that Starbuck admired
more than he could ever admit. He wanted nothing more than to take
Apollo home to the Galactica, get him off this planet that he feared
was slowly killing him -- but he felt a sense of sadness as well
at the realization that once they left here, the intimacy between
them would be gone as well. But he wouldn't risk delaying their
departure a moment longer simply to spend one more night making
out with him over dinner. The morning the last blood sample was
taken from Apollo, Starbuck insisted that they return at once to
their shuttle.

The Emperor and Marshent, both of whom had grown genuinely fond of
the two of them over the last days, expressed sorrow at seeing them
go so quickly. But even they could see that Apollo was not doing
well. They, along with Dolmash and Breeanth, and a dozens others
from the court showered them with gifts in parting, but escorted
them without protest back to the shuttle.

Starbuck, arm around Apollo to steady him, thanked them all as they
walked, knowing enough Corvalan now to at least express a few words
of gratitude for their hospitality. The last thing Emperor Va'shtle
gave Starbuck before he boarded the shuttle was a data pad containing
nothing more than a list of names -- forty million names to be
exact -- the names of all the lives Apollo had saved by donating
so much blood. Starbuck nodded his understanding and gripped the
Emperor's hand in parting. Then he boarded the shuttle and took
his friend away from that world.

Apollo slept in the copilot's seat the entire trip back to the
Galactica, and from time to time Starbuck found himself studying
his friend's features. He'd lost weight, and though he'd actually
managed to tan somewhat beneath the Corvalan sun, his face looked
pale and waxy, his lips nearly colorless. "Tir'za," Starbuck
whispered softly as he reached out to gently stroke Apollo's cheek.
His skin felt cold to the touch, and the Captain did not wake.

Omega's voice over the shuttle's com-unit was a welcome sound,
directing Starbuck to dock the ship in a landing bay nearest the
Life Center. He practically had to carry his exhausted friend from
the ship, waiting impatiently for the decontamination scans to
finish flashing over them before stepping out into the main bay
itself where he saw the medical team he'd requested already waiting.
Apollo, trying to walk under his own steam, lost the last of his
strength as the change in cabin pressure and temperature hit both
of them, the artificial gravity of the ship and the processed air
almost a shock to their system after so long on the planet. Starbuck
had to lift him onto the medical gurney and he followed alongside
as they took him back to the Life Center.

Adama, Athena and Boxey were all waiting for them when they entered
the facility, and Apollo smiled wanly up at the three of them as
Doctor Salik with Cassiopeia's aid began checking his vitals. "Dad?"
Boxey asked worriedly, his father's appearance obviously coming as
a shock to him.

"I'm all right, Boxey," he assured him, his voice sounding weak
but steady. "Just tired."

"I'm going to give you a transfusion, Apollo," the doctor told him.

"You need blood?" Starbuck asked immediately, willing to donate
anything Apollo might need.

But the doctor just shook his head and smiled. "Word got around
the fleet what Apollo had done. I think everyone in the fleet
offered to donate blood. We have plenty of his type on hand." It
took him only a few minutes to set up the equipment, feeding a line
into a vein in Apollo's arm. Then he allowed Adama, Athena and
Boxey to speak with the patient, while Cassiopeia drew Starbuck
aside to run her own medical check on him.

Starbuck sat impatiently on one of the medical beds while Cassiopeia
scanned him with her instruments. "You doing all right, Starbuck?"
she asked gently.

He took a moment to glance at her, taking in the lovely face and
the golden hair he'd always been so fond of. He supposed he ought
to kiss her, or at the very least arrange to meet her later on in
the hopes of working off the two sectons of frustration he had
burning in his veins. "Fine," he said simply. "Just worried about
Apollo."

Cassiopeia glanced over her shoulder at the family reunion. "Give
him an centare and he'll be back to his old self. The medical scans
were about what we expected. They didn't take enough blood to
permanently harm him."

Starbuck nodded. "And the headaches?"

"Doctor Salik thinks that they'll go away now that he no longer
needs to speak Corvalan," she replied. "He'll make a full recovery."

The relief that washed through Starbuck at that was heartening,
and he smiled warmly at Cassiopeia. "Thank you."

Cassiopeia returned his smile and raised her hand to brush his hair
back from his forehead. "Good to have you home, Starbuck," she told
him, and if she noticed that he'd stiffened from the contact she
gave no indication. He didn't like it, he realized, didn't want
her touching his hair. He sighed heavily. So much for working off
his frustration.

Despite the fact that the doctor gave him a clean bill of health,
Starbuck lingered in the Life Center to stay with Apollo. Cassiopeia
had been right -- the transfusion did wonders for Apollo, and he
began looking more like his old self in no time, some color returning
to his face. Under doctor's orders he was to spend the next twenty
centares resting quietly in his quarters, but after that he saw no
reason why he couldn't return to duty. At Adama's insistence, both
he and Starbuck were given the next few days off to reacclimatize
to the ship.

Athena, excusing herself to return to duty, kissed Starbuck lightly
on the cheek as she went by, thanking him for bringing her brother
home.  Adama informed them both of a dinner party he'd planned to
celebrate their return and the success of the mission before he
too excused himself to head to the bridge. Starbuck offered to walk
Apollo and Boxey back to their quarters. Apollo grinned as Boxey
skipped toward the doorway and called to Muffit who'd been stuck
outside the Center on doctor's orders. He stood up and instinctively
Starbuck reached for his hand to walk with him. Apollo reached
back, but as their fingers came into contact they both froze in
shock, staring down at their hands as if baffled by what they had
both done.

"Something wrong, gentlemen?" the doctor asked, noticing their
sudden silence.

Both of them released each other's hands immediately, blinking at
one another in almost stupefied silence.

"Apollo?" the doctor asked again, concerned now.

"No," Apollo stammered. "Nothing's wrong. Thank you for your help,
doctor." He moved past Starbuck and headed after his son, his gait
somewhat more stiff than usual. Squeezing his hands into tight
fists, Starbuck followed him, cursing silently to himself, and
hating the sense of loss that was flooding through him.

He walked alongside Apollo through the dimly lit corridors of the
ship, listening to Boxey chatter about all the things he'd been
doing these last few days. All the while Starbuck tried his hardest
not to notice just how wrong it felt not to be holding Apollo's
hand as he walked. He'd have to get used to it, he told himself.
And he'd have to get used to the fact that when they reached Apollo's
quarters and Starbuck stopped to wish the two of them a good evening
before returning to his bunk to get some sleep, that he couldn't
now take Apollo in his arms and kiss him goodbye. It felt wrong,
it felt strange, like something left unfinished.

He stood there a moment, at a loss for words, certainly unable to
express what he was feeling. He saw the inscrutable look Apollo
threw him, wondered if he were thinking along the same lines and
whether or not he was relieved or bothered by the return to normalcy.
Then Apollo smiled gently at him, and bid him good night before
entering his quarters and closing the door behind him. Alone,
Starbuck walked back to the bachelors' quarters, realizing that
tonight he'd have to sleep without holding Apollo in his arms.
 _________________________________________________________________

Two nights later, Adama had the promised dinner party where he
formally commended Apollo and Starbuck for their successful mission.
Once again in dress uniform, Starbuck found himself seated in the
Commander's dining room across the table from Apollo and Boxey.
Along with Cassiopeia, Athena and Sheba, the Commander had also
invited Tigh, Boomer, Omega and Bojay. The Commander said an opening
prayer of blessing; they all raised their glasses of ambrosa in
toast, and drank to good fortune and clear skies ahead, before
digging into the feast prepared for them. But despite the familiar
surroundings, and the comfort of friends and family, Starbuck found
he had difficulty focusing on anything other than the deep jealousy
that it was Sheba who sat beside Apollo this night.

As they ate, the others asked the two of them questions about
Corvalan, full of curiosity about the people and the customs. Not
really certain how much to share, Starbuck let Apollo lead the
conversation, telling them all about the meetings he'd had with
the Emperor.

"What about their customs?" Cassiopeia asked finally. "We're they
much different from ours?"

"Yes," Athena asked eagerly. "We understood that was why they didn't
want contact with anyone else -- their customs were too different
from our own."

"Well," Apollo glanced briefly over at Starbuck, and Starbuck just
smiled back, offering him a vague shrugged. He wasn't certain what
precisely to tell them either. "They were quite different," Apollo
admitted. "For one thing...." he seemed to be searching for something
to tell them.

"Their food was all color coded," Starbuck offered helpfully.

"Right!" Apollo nodded in agreement. "Color coded, and you had to
eat it in a very specific order or risk offending their gods."

"Yellows first, purples last," Starbuck supplied.

At that Boxey made a face. "Eeww! Purple food?"

"Actually we both kind of liked the purple stuff. Especially that
one fruit," Starbuck remarked.

"Yeah, that was pretty good -- the blue stuff too," Apollo nodded
in agreement.

"Well, what else?" Athena prompted, seeming unsatisfied with that
little bit of info. "Anything really out of the ordinary?"

"Umm," Apollo stammered. "Out of the ordinary?"

Starbuck's lips twitched in amusement. How was Apollo going to
explain this? He smirked at his friend, daring him to do it. Apollo
smirked right back, seeing the challenge in Starbuck's eyes, and
the look caught the attention of everyone at the table.

"Well, what was it?" Cassiopeia demanded, grinning now.

"Must be something embarrassing," Athena guessed. "They're both
blushing."

Starbuck could feel the heat in his face and realized that Athena
was right. His smirk turned into a self-mocking smile as he shook
his head at Apollo. Now they were both in for it.

"Art work," Apollo blurted out, and it was all Starbuck could do
not to sigh in relief. That would do it -- explain their smirks,
and their blushes.

"What?" Athena demanded.

"Art work," Starbuck explained. "Of a rather..." he glanced at
Boxey, tailoring his remarks for young ears. "Of a rather explicit
nature."

"Explicit?" Boomer asked, glancing at Boxey as well then back at
Starbuck and Apollo to make certain he understood what precisely
they meant.

"How explicit?" Bojay asked curiously.

Apollo raised his chin. "Very," he replied. "Very... graphic."

There were some chuckles at that. "And you two were looking at
this... artwork, why?" Athena demanded.

"Didn't have much choice," Starbuck admitted. "It was everywhere.
Paintings, statues..."

"Performance art," Apollo supplied dryly. That last comment actually
caught both Tigh and Boomer off guard and they nearly spit their
drinks across the table.

"What!"

Starbuck wasn't quite certain who had shrieked -- possibly Sheba
and Athena both.

Starbuck was laughing now, because there was certainly no way in
Hades he was going to explain what else that 'performance art' had
initiated. "The Corvalans did seem to enjoy their art," he offered.

"Young and old alike," Apollo added, and Starbuck could see the
twitching muscle in his cheek as he fought off his grin.

"Very old," Starbuck corrected, and the choking laugh that escaped
Apollo was too much for him and he busted up himself.

The rest of the adults in the room were staring at them in amused
shock, all of them obviously desperately wanting to ask for details
but refraining because of Boxey's presence. "Sorry I missed it,"
Boomer laughed, looking back and forth from Starbuck to Apollo
almost enviously.

"I was under the impression that the Corvalans were a deeply
religious people," Adama remarked, looking equally amused, but
somewhat more perplexed than the rest of the group.

"They are," Apollo assured him. "Believe it or not, the artwork in
question was all actually quite religious in nature."

At the looks of disbelief being thrown their way, Starbuck grinned.
"Let's just say that the Corvalans worship their gods very...
enthusiastically. One might almost say 'ecstatically'."

"Why do I get the impression that there's a great deal you left
out of your official mission report?" Tigh asked wryly.

"Oh, I'm sure Captain Apollo didn't leave anything important out,"
Starbuck assured the colonel.

"Just all the interesting bits," Boomer added with a grumble. "Why
don't I ever get any of the fun missions?"

"I'll tell you what Boomer," Apollo smiled. "Next time we meet up
with a group of people like the Corvalans, I'll assign you and
Jolly to the mission." And the look of delight on Boomer's face
was too much for Starbuck, and he nearly knocked his chair over
laughing at the thought. Tigh and Adama, both aware that Apollo
and Starbuck had been forced to pretend to be sealed for the mission,
laughed as well, leaving the rest of the group staring at them in
confusion.

There were other questions, most everyone expressing interest in
the planet itself and the cities. Apollo and Starbuck answered them
as best they could, steering clear of the more intimate topics.
Eventually the conversation turned to other things as the night
wore on. Dessert was served, and afterwards Boxey asked to be
excused so he could go play a computer game in the other room while
the adults continued talking. Athena served the group another round
of ambrosia, and they remained seated around the table discussing
the plans for the future.

"Sir," Boomer said suddenly, turning toward Adama. "There's a rumor
floating around about the most recent long range scans of our path
up ahead. Is it true there's a giant nebula in our way?"

Adama glanced over at Tigh, both men looking startled. "Can't keep
any secrets on this ship at all, can we?"

Boomer for once looked somewhat guilty. "It's all the civilians on
board now," he confessed. "The rumor net is more active than it
used to be -- besides most of the detailed scans came from the
science ship Poseidon -- that's almost entirely run by civilians.
It's a wonder the information hasn't been broadcast on IFB."

"Is it true?" Cassiopeia asked.

Adama sighed and nodded, exchanging looks with both Tigh and Omega.
"Unfortunately, yes. And we won't be able to keep it a secret much
longer I'm afraid. It will be visible on even our weakest scanners
in about sectare. We'll reach it in two sectares at our present
speed.  It's enormous, one of the biggest we've ever seen."

"What's the big deal?" Bojay asked. "We've flown through nebulas
before."

"Not like this one," Tigh replied. "It's super electrically charged
and made up of enormous pockets of highly volatile gasses. We can't
fly through this one. One electrical strike and even the Galactica
wouldn't make it. We have no choice but to go around it."

"Why is that a problem?" Sheba asked. "We've gone temporarily off
the course the Ship of Lights gave to us many times before. We
detoured from our heading with the Corvalans. Why would this be
any different? Go around the nebula and then resume our original
heading for Earth."

"Which is what we will do," Adama agreed. "Unfortunately even at
the Galactica's top speed, it will take us three yahrens to get
around the nebula. With the speed we're forced to maintain, it will
take at least eight yahrens. That sort of a delay will be demoralizing
to the entire crew."

Eight yahrens! Never mind the fleet, Starbuck could see that the
news was demoralizing to everyone in the room. He didn't envy
Adama's task of having to make that announcement. But what choice
did he have?

"There's a path through the nebula."

Starbuck's head snapped up in shock as he stared at Apollo, not
believing he'd just heard those words from his mouth. Indeed,
everyone in the room turned to stare at the dark-haired Captain.
Starbuck recognized the look in those green eyes, a gaze turned
inward toward something no one else could see. He felt his stomach
knot in tension, his heart clenching painfully in his chest, and
he wanted to leap out of his chair and grab the man, silencing him
before he could say anything more.

"What was that, Apollo?" Adama demanded.

"There's a path," Apollo repeated. "Through the nebula. A neutral
area, with inert gases and a low electrical field. It's a very
narrow corridor, and winds through the nebula, but the fleet can
make it through."

Tigh shook his head in bafflement. "I've seen all the preliminary
scans. We haven't picked up anything like that."

Adama touched his shoulder briefly, silencing him. "Apollo, you
know where this path is?" Adama asked, and Starbuck knew by the
look of wonder on the man's face that he understood what was
happening.

Apollo nodded, gaze still unfocused as he stared in silence at
something beyond everyone else's sight. He raised his hand to his
temple in a gesture that had become all too familiar to Starbuck
down on Corvalan. "There will be thousands of course corrections,
but I can plot it for you. It should only take us three or four
sectares to get through."

"Wait a minute," Boomer protested. "How can you possibly know that?"

But Sheba too had caught on. "The Ship of Lights," she said in
amazement, reaching out to place her hand on Apollo's arm in an
almost possessive manner. "That's wonderful!"

"No, it's not!" Starbuck growled, because he could already see the
signs of tension growing around Apollo's eyes, and knew immediately
what was happening.

"Starbuck!" Cassiopeia protested. "How can you say that? If Apollo
can lead us through..."

"It's causing him pain!" Starbuck insisted, turning his angry gaze
toward the man's father. "I can see it. The headache is back."

"Starbuck," Apollo admonished softly. "It's all right. It's nothing."

"Nothing?" Starbuck glared across the table at his friend. "Two
sectons on Corvalan had you in agony. But this... you're talking
sectons plotting a course in stellar navigation, and then another
three or four sectares making adjustments inside the nebula. It
will be torture for you. It's not worth it!"

"It is worth it!" Apollo insisted, shocking Starbuck into silence
by reaching across the table and grabbing his hand in a fierce
grip. "A little bit of pain in exchange for our freedom. It's worth
everything."

"Freedom?" Adama asked, looking less certain now that he understood
the price being asked.

Apollo nodded, releasing Starbuck's hand after giving it a gentle
but unexpected squeeze. "The fleet can go through the nebula,"
Apollo explained. "But the Cylons can't."

And with those words, Starbuck knew that Apollo's fate was sealed.
Nothing in the world would make him or Adama turn back now.

"If they're still following us," Apollo continued, "they'll have
no choice but to go around the nebula. By the time they get to the
other side, we'll be three yahrens ahead of them. Our trail will
be cold.  They'll never find us. They won't even know where to
begin looking.  The war will be over."

His words had the effect Starbuck knew they would on everyone
present -- they forgot about the sacrifice being asked of Apollo.
All they saw was an end to the constant fear they lived with from
day to day. The war with the Cylons was over. It took a moment for
the truth to set in, and then Boomer was on his feet, raising his
glass in salute. "To a life without Cylons!" he exclaimed. The
others leaped to their feet, reaching for their own glasses to
repeat the words.

Starbuck stood as well, but not in joy or excitement. He stood for
Apollo, because he could see Apollo's eyes begging him to stand,
to celebrate with the rest of them, and Starbuck was not capable
of refusing the man anything. Even this terrible thing.
 _________________________________________________________________

The dinner party broke up a short while later, the time growing
late.  As they began taking their leave of the Commander, Starbuck
heard Adama asking Apollo to remain behind, and knew the man wished
to speak with him more about the nebula ahead. He saw Sheba standing
beside Apollo, touching his arm again and speaking softly to him,
and Starbuck found the sight of her hand on his arm almost painful
to bear. He didn't suppose she noticed Bojay watching from the door
with a gleam of envy in his eyes that he would never speak of --
truth was he admired Apollo too much to become a rival for Sheba's
affections.

Cassie was waiting nearby as well, her gaze on Starbuck as she
waited for him to offer to walk her back to her quarters. He knew
she would then offer to let him come inside those same quarters.
But Starbuck found he couldn't play this game tonight, couldn't do
this dance any more. He wasn't going to passively concede Apollo
to Sheba, and he wasn't going to spend the night with Cassiopeia
when his heart was elsewhere.

"Pol," he called to his friend, using the nickname publicly when
in the past he'd always taken such care to use it only in private.
"I'll take Boxey home for you."

Apollo looked up, and smiled gratefully at him. But there was a
curious gleam in his eyes as if he too had caught the oddity of
the name used. "Thank you, Star," he replied in like term, and
Starbuck knew he was not mad.

Cassiopeia and Sheba were the only two people who reacted at all
to their exchange, Cassie to sigh in irritation and turn to Boomer
to request his escort before leaving the room without further
comment.  Sheba on the other hand followed Starbuck into the room
where Boxey had been playing, the boy now sound asleep on a couch,
his daggit sitting quietly beside him. "It's not necessary for you
to take Boxey home, Starbuck," Sheba informed him. "I can do it."

Starbuck simply picked the boy up in his arms, holding him carefully
so that he would not awaken. "I need to speak with Apollo, Sheba,"
he explained. "I'm going to wait in his quarters whether I'm the
one to take Boxey home or not."

She frowned in irritation. "You really know how to ruin an evening,
Starbuck," she complained. Her eyes flashed with something else as
well. "And if you were really Apollo's friend you wouldn't try to
discourage him from taking a more active roll in our journey. Do
you realize what the knowledge those beings on the Ship of Lights
gave him can do for his career? If he were a little bit more
outgoing, the Council would shower him with medals. He has the
potential to be the greatest leader our people have ever known,
but he needs to take more credit for his accomplishments and he's
not going to do that if you keep trying to talk him out of taking
risks."

Starbuck glared at her, furious that she could speak such nonsense.
As far as he was concerned, Apollo already was the greatest leader
they'd ever known; and as far as taking risks, apparently she'd
never read Apollo's service record. No one in the fleet, himself
included, had ever taken more risks than Apollo. "If you think for
one centon that Apollo cares one bit about his career or the Council
and their medals, or what our people or history might think of him,
then you don't know Apollo at all. He's turned down more medals
than even your father ever received."

He saw her stiffen at that, but he didn't want to spend any more
time sparring with her, especially not with Boxey in his arms.
Pushing past her, he stormed from the room. She did not follow.

It didn't take him long to make his way through the quiet corridors
of the Galactica to Apollo's quarters. He entered the access code
and let himself in, waiting long enough for Muffit to clear the
door before closing it again. Boxey stirred in his arms as Starbuck
carried him into his room and laid him down on the bed. "Starbuck?"
he murmured sleepily.

"Go to sleep, kiddo," Starbuck told him, carefully removing the
boy's shoes and then maneuvering him under the blankets of his bed.

"Where's my dad?" the boy asked.

"Talking to your grandfather," Starbuck assured him. "He'll be back
in a little while."

"Tell me a story?"

Starbuck smiled and sat down on the edge of the bed. "All right,
but close your eyes." The boy nodded his agreement, and closed his
eyes as Starbuck started in on one of the child's favorite stories.
He only got partially through it before the quiet breathing of the
boy assured him that he'd fallen back to sleep. He motioned to
Muffit, who was lying beside the bed, to be quiet as he got up to
leave the room. The robotic daggit's eyes powered down, but his
ears remained perked and swiveling, constantly on guard despite
the secured surroundings.

Starbuck paced restlessly in the main room for a while, then found
himself studying the decor as he had never done before. Most of
the things in the main room belonged to Boxey, some of the boy's
clothes and toys scattered about, his school supplies on the table,
his books on the lone shelf. There were a large number of green
plants in the room that belonged to Apollo -- a fondness he'd
possessed even during his Academy days when he'd often bring plants
into the dorm to line the windows. There was less room here, and
less sunlight as each plant required a small sun lamp to maintain
its health. But Apollo obviously still enjoyed them. But beyond
that there was little else of Apollo's present.

Curious he let himself into Apollo's bedroom, noting immediately
how tidy it was. Those warriors that lived in the bachelors' quarters
had no choice but to maintain military neatness with their bunks
and their lockers. But Apollo had no such compulsion and yet had
never strayed from that training. Thinking of his conversation with
Sheba, Starbuck glanced around the room for the medals Apollo had
accepted over the yahrens, only to discover they were not visible.
He knew they had to be onboard the Galactica -- Apollo had most
likely left the awards and medals he'd gotten in the Academy with
his mother, and they were lost now on the ruins of Caprica. But
everything he received during his service on the Galactica would
be here in his room -- he knew for a fact that they were not on
display in the Strike Captain's office. The only personal items
anyone had ever seen on display in Apollo's office were the occasional
pieces of artwork Boxey gifted him with.

But the medals were not displayed here either, and Starbuck guessed
they were probably locked away in a drawer somewhere collecting
dust.  In actuality there was very little on display in the room.
There were some framed holo-images on one wall, and a stringed
instrument Starbuck had never seen before resting in one corner of
the room.  Starbuck remembered from time to time listening to Ila
sing for the family, Zac occasionally joining in with a remarkably
clear voice. But Starbuck knew now that those two weren't the only
ones in the family who could sing -- he suspected now that perhaps
Apollo's musical ability was a little more advanced that he'd let
on. There was no dust on the instrument, indicating that it received
attention fairly regularly.

There were a few more plants in the room, and a quilt on Apollo's
bed that Starbuck knew Athena had made for him. A small shelf
contained a few old books from Caprica, well loved if their condition
was any indication, and an ancient spyglass that Adama had given
Apollo when he'd been promoted to Captain.

Surprisingly there was also a pyramid deck on those shelves, and
on closer inspection Starbuck realized that he recognized the
design. It was a deck Starbuck had given Apollo over ten yahrens
ago when he'd first conned him into playing a game for cubits --
Starbuck had cleaned him out of everything he had at the time, and
given him the deck as a consolation prize. He couldn't imagine why
Apollo would have kept it, especially not when it seemed he kept
very few personal items as it was.

Curious, he moved toward the holo-images; there was an abundance
of those he noticed, though it didn't surprise him. Apollo would
prize his memories above all other things, and most people in the
fleet found images from home the most precious of commodities. In
fact, so many people had lost their own family images that those
who had escaped the Destruction with their albums, had placed many
of them in a fleet-wide databank that was shared with everyone.

Starbuck smiled as he looked at the images, please to see that he
still had so many of both Zac and Ila. Most of the images were
taken back home on Caprica, and Starbuck was surprised at how many
of them he was in. Save for his gold hair, a stranger looking at
them might not realize that Starbuck was not a member of this
family.

The newest images were of Boxey, most capturing the boy at play
with his daggit. But it was the center image that surprised Starbuck
the most -- a framed set of two images side by side. They were
nearly identical in composition, both of Apollo and Starbuck but
taken yahrens apart. The first had been taken their first yahren
in the Academy, the second only a few sectares before the Destruction.
In both images Apollo was standing beside him with one arm around
Starbuck's shoulder -- a remarkably unusual pose for the normally
reserved man, and yet based on its placement on the wall Starbuck
could only surmise that the images were some of Apollo's favorites.

He backed away, taking in the wall of images as a whole. Save for
the silly daggit in the images with Boxey, Starbuck was the only
person displayed who was not part of Apollo's immediate family.
There wasn't even one image of Serina or Sheba, and Starbuck was
afraid to imagine what that might mean. Afraid to read too much
into it, and risk losing everything he'd already been given.

He left the room, still feeling restless and anxious, but too lost
in his thoughts to pace much more. He dropped instead down onto
the couch, and tilted his head back, eyes closing as he tried to
turn his own gaze inward. He hadn't slept well since their return
from Corvalan; his bed had felt too empty, though truthfully there
was little room in the bunk for more than one man. But after only
two sectons, he'd grown used to sleeping beside Apollo, curling up
against his warmth, and the cold of space that permeated all ships
had never before felt so harsh. Would he spend the rest of his life
missing Apollo's presence beside him at night, he wondered. Or
would he grow used to sleeping alone again, and forget how sweet
it had been? Somehow, he doubted he'd forget. He'd never been good
at forgetting the pleasant things in life.

It was nearly a centare before Apollo returned, and at the sound
of the door, Starbuck sat up pensively. Apollo looked tired, and
Starbuck could tell by the tension around his eyes that his headache
was back with a vengeance -- Adama must have questioned him at
length about the nebula.

"Thank you for taking care of Boxey, Starbuck," Apollo smiled as
Starbuck stood up.

"My pleasure," Starbuck assured him, watching him closely as he
moved across the room to peer briefly into Boxey's bedroom. He
stared at his son for a long moment, then silently closed the door
so that he would not wake him. "You all right?" Starbuck asked.

Apollo nodded. "I'm fine."

"And your headache?"

"Not too bad," he assured him. "I'll go to the Life Center tomorrow
and get something stronger for it."

"I could go now and get you something, if you need it," Starbuck
offered immediately.

Apollo shook his head. "I can't ask you to do that."

"You didn't ask," Starbuck took a step toward him, fighting the
urge to touch him. "I offered."

Apollo looked up in surprise, green eyes wary as if trying to see
the distinction between the two ideas. "It's all right. You don't
need to..."

"Stop," Starbuck pleaded softly with him, his heart aching. "Why
is it you're always thinking of what I need, or what your father
needs, or what the fleet needs, and never what you need? Why can't
you ask for things? Why can't you ask for help? Why must you bear
everything alone?"

Apollo backed away from him in shock, looking almost hurt by his
words, his face filled with such confusion. "I... I can't... I
can't ask..."

"That's just it," Starbuck insisted. "You can ask. You can ask for
anything. Do you honestly imagine that there is anything in this
twice-cursed universe that I wouldn't give you if it were in my
power? What is it you want that is so terrible? You have a family
who loves you, who would do anything for you. A father who both
loves and respects you and would tell you so if you simply told
him you needed to hear it."

Starbuck knew by the way Apollo flinched as if in pain that he'd
struck home with that one. "You could have any woman in the fleet
you desired. Lords knows that Sheba is yours if you want her. You
have the loyalty of your subordinates, warriors who'd willingly
follow you anywhere you lead. Even men who would be your rivals
admire you too much to speak out against you. And every man, woman
and child in the fleet offered to donate blood when they thought
you might need it."

Starbuck reached into an inner pocket in his flight jacket and
removed the small data pad the Corvalan Emperor had given him. "I
didn't have the chance to give this to you earlier," he said quietly.
"Emperor Va'shtle gave it to me the day we left Corvalan. There
are forty million names on that pad, forty million lives that you
saved by donating your blood. The universe owes you, Apollo."

He held out the data pad and saw to his dismay that Apollo's hand
was shaking as he took it. He looked lost and confused, and he
shook his head in denial as he stared at the pad before dropping
onto the table as if it had burned him. "No," he whispered, shaking
his head as he turned away, turned his back on Starbuck. "I can't
have what I want, so there's no point in asking."

And Starbuck could honestly think of only one thing that Apollo
might want that he could not have, and his heart broke for his
friend's pain. He caught hold of Apollo's shoulders, stepping far
closer to him than he would have dared only sectons ago, preventing
him from moving further away. "If you asked," Starbuck told him
quietly. "I would gladly hunt down that Ship of Lights and offer
them my life to have Serina returned to you."

"No!" the strangled cry that tore from Apollo was filled with pain
and with bitterness. He turned toward Starbuck, stopping halfway
as if to look at him would cause him pain. His face was white with
shock, and his eyes were squeezed tightly shut. "You think I would
wish you dead? You think I would ever wish you gone?" his voice
was raw.

Starbuck tightened his grip on Apollo's shoulders. "I think," he
bit out through teeth clenched with emotions, "that you will not
tell me what you wish, what you desire, what you need. I think that
you will lead us through this nebula, and you will lead us through
the next obstacle, and the next one after that, and you will give
your heart, and your soul, and your life to this fleet, and you
will suffer in silence, and you will not even let me hold your
hand."

Sometime during his impassioned speech, he'd raised his hand to
touch his friend's face, and to his shock he saw that Apollo had
turned in toward his caress as he had time and time again on
Corvalan. But there were no Corvalans here, no one to perform for,
and Starbuck's breath caught in his throat when he realized that
there was only need, and longing, and hunger in his friend's pale,
beautiful face. "Pol?" he asked in wonder, his heart racing in his
chest.

"You," Apollo whispered, almost so softly Starbuck nearly missed
it.  "I have only ever wanted you. Since I first saw you in the
Academy.  Brightest light I've ever seen, but always just out of
reach."

Apollo looked up then even as he stepped away from Starbuck's touch.
His gaze was filled now with equal parts longing and despair. "So
now you know," he said simply with a bitter finality. "And now you
know why I never said anything. Because I had your friendship, and
it would destroy me to lose that."

Starbuck felt the pain and confusion inside him giving way to wonder
and joy as he realized that all along he and Apollo had been on
the same path, just both too blind to see it. And it seemed impossible
that this could be happening, that the universe had decided to give
this gift to him instead of to someone more deserving, but he wasn't
about to refuse it. He'd never been that selfless.

With one step he bridged the gap between them and took Apollo in
his arms. Then his mouth was seeking out Apollo's and he was kissing
him hungrily, desperately, feeling the shock that shuddered through
his friend's body and then the desperate way his arms came up around
him, pressing his body tightly into Starbuck's.

When they came up for air, Apollo caught hold of Starbuck's hair,
holding his head between both his hands so that he could stare into
his face. "Starbuck?" he asked, and Starbuck could see both need
and hope burning in those green eyes. "You want this? You want me?"

Starbuck knew how important his answer was -- knew Apollo would
never accept him if he thought for one moment Starbuck was doing
this out of loyalty or simple friendship. He tightened his arms
around Apollo, shifting his body against him so that there was no
mistaking the affect Apollo was having on him. "In case you've
failed to figure it out, you idiot," he grinned. "I love you. I
always have. I wasn't acting down on Corvalan. Even I don't bluff
that good. It was all I could do to keep my hands off you."

Apollo's eyes widened, his breath catching in his throat. "Oh,
lords," he whispered, and then he was kissing him again with such
heat and passion Starbuck thought his brain would go into meltdown,
especially when he felt Apollo's hands pulling almost frantically
at his uniform, trying to get it off him.

Starbuck laughed silently to himself, because of course he should
have known that Apollo would approach lovemaking the same way he
did everything else -- jumping in with both feet heedless of the
consequences to himself. But Starbuck wasn't about to refuse the
gift, sectons of frustration returning with a vengeance. And like
everything else they did together Starbuck would follow where ever
Apollo would lead, but as always he would ensure that his friend
did not get hurt in the process.

He pushed and pulled Apollo into his bedroom, stripping them both
out of their uniforms before falling in a tangle of arms and legs
upon the bed. And Starbuck used his hands and his mouth and his
body to drive Apollo wild, pushing him higher and higher until he
was crying out for release, pushing him higher still until he spoke
of love and desire and finally did not ask, but begged for what he
needed. When Starbuck finally thrust deep into Apollo's body, he
heard his friend whisper his name like a prayer of thanksgiving
that rivaled any Thean'd.

A long time later, the two of them lay sated in each other's arms,
bodies cooling as they rested, Starbuck's hands once again tangled
in Apollo's hair. "I missed this," Apollo admitted, and Starbuck
knew exactly what he meant.

"Me too," he whispered. "I loved holding you at night. On Corvalan,
I thought I'd died and gone to heaven." Despite the fact that they
were both lying naked in each other's arms, despite what they had
just done to each other, Starbuck still felt Apollo's face heating
with his words. He smiled in the darkness, wondering if his friend
would ever overcome his reserve. Despite it, Apollo did not hold
anything back from Starbuck, and so he was surprised when Apollo
sat up suddenly.

"Pol?" he asked in concern.

"Starbuck, you know I don't like lying," Apollo said quietly in
the darkness, not looking at him.

Worried, Starbuck sat up and slipped his arms around his friend's
body, kissing his neck gently. He was relieved that Apollo made no
attempt to move away. "I know," he agreed, wondering what was on
his mind.

"But we lied to the Corvalans," Apollo continued. "We told them we
were sealed."

"We didn't have any choice," Starbuck pointed out, ever practical.

"If we were to get sealed," Apollo said hesitantly. "Then it wouldn't
really have been a lie, would it?"

Starbuck froze, not certain he'd heard clearly. Even when Apollo
finally asked for something he did not do it clearly; nor apparently
did he do anything by halves. Starbuck felt his heart begin to
race.  "Apollo? Are you asking me to seal with you?"

"Yes," Apollo nodded his head, and Starbuck was struck speechless
by the simple wonder of the moment. When he did not speak at once,
he heard Apollo sigh, his head bowed even as one hand closed over
Starbuck's arm that was wrapped around his chest. "I'm sorry, Star,"
he said softly. "I shouldn't have said anything. I shouldn't have
presumed..."

"Apollo," Starbuck stopped his words with a finger to his lips.
"Look at me." He forced Apollo to turn around and was nearly struck
speechless again by the look of need in the man's eyes. "Pol, you
should know that whether we seal or not, I have always intended to
spend my life beside you, as close as you would allow. If you want
me, you have me. I can think of nothing I'd like better."

The delight that flashed through Apollo's eyes warmed him clear
through. "I love you," Apollo whispered, and he kissed him, deeply
and passionately, and Starbuck wondered how he had ever lived
without this.

"Tir'za," Starbuck whispered softly against Apollo's lips.

He felt Apollo smile. "Beloved," Apollo translated. "One day I'll
tell you what else the Corvalan's said about us. You thought their
artwork was explicit. Their words were a thousand times more
graphic."

Shocked, Starbuck could only moan as Apollo pushed him back down
onto the bed and proceeded to show him what some of those more
explicit words had inspired.

Later still, Apollo rested his head against Starbuck's shoulder,
both of them utterly exhausted by now. "Starbuck," Apollo murmured.
"Guess what?"

Amused and pleased by Apollo's talkative nature -- they were best
friends first and foremost and Starbuck knew that would never change
-- he merely tightened his arms around him and nuzzled the top of
his head. "Hmm?" he asked.

"My headache's gone."

Apollo's sense of humor once again caught Starbuck off guard, and
he started laughing. "I knew I'd eventually find a cure for you,"
he teased. "I guess this means I won't be hearing any of the 'not
tonight, honey, I have a headache' excuses from you?"

"Guess not," Apollo agreed.

"Hey, Pol?" Starbuck asked.

Apollo looked up, eyes gleaming in the darkness. "Yes?"

"When we get sealed, does that mean you'll sing for me again?"

Starbuck loved the embarrassed mirth that flared in those green
eyes.  But truth was Apollo's laughter was music enough.