Hook, Line and Sinker 
By Vaughn and Lisa 




She heard groaning, and it took a moment before she 
realized that it was coming from her own throat. The 
room was too bright, or at least brighter than the 
barracks. The light was different too. Whiter than the 
normally reddish yellow of the barracks. At first she 
wondered if she was dreaming again, dreaming of the 
creatures of light, of the death of Apollo, Starbuck 
beside her trading his life for Apollo’s. 

Sheba opened her eyes, and wondered for a moment where 
she was, before it all came cascading back down like 
spilled ambrosia. A room on the Rising Star and the 
white light was coming from the stars in the viewport. 
“That’s right.” She thought. “I bought us a room. We 
would have been put on report had we shown up back on 
the Galactica, we were that drunk. Falling down drunk. 
Would be the right way to put it.” Really, she should feel 
far worse than she actually did. It had to have been the 
extracarricular activities. She remembered 
stumbling on the dance floor, Starbuck catching her in 
his arms as if he had meant for her to fall, a new 
dance move that somehow involved him rescuing her. 
She had laughed, couldn’t remember having giggled that 
hard before, and he had pulled her up, kept her close, 
his lips nearly brushing hers before he diverted 
himself, whispering in her ear instead. “We should get 
a room." Then he smiled disarmingly. "I mean, sober 
you up before you have duty again, don’t you think?” 

She doesn’t recall objecting, although she didn’t have 
duty for almost twenty-four centaurs. He didn’t whisper it 
seductively. It didn’t tickle like a turn on, instead 
it was as if whispered in the heat of battle so the 
enemy wouldn’t overhear. She vaguely remembers taking 
his hand and leading him to the turbolift, punching up 
the floor for the rooms. The look of surprise on his 
handsome features made it all worth it. 

Things got a bit fuzzy from there. Somehow Starbuck 
had found another bottle of ambrosia. Maybe it was in 
the room? She just remembers him sitting in the one 
chair in the room, pouring her a drink. He said 
something about “Not going to leave this chair.” Then 
his blue eyes twinkled and he added, “Not sure I could 
get back up if I did. You’ll have to come get it.” And yes, 
that one was a line, a line cast out with a bait she should have 
resisted. There was a hook hidden in it. She didn’t recall 
caring, happy to be reeled in by his smile. At that 
moment, what did it matter? It was as if a searchlight 
had illuminated her thoughts and in that brief centon 
of lucidity she realized that it didn’t matter what 
happened in that room that night. Nothing or 
everything, she’d still pay the price for it. The 
gossip, the rumors, the innuendos. One minute, or 24 
centaurs, it wouldn’t matter. Sleep or something more. 
They’d all assume it was more, so why not /have/ more? 
Why just look at the menu, and be accused of ordering 
it all. If you ordered it, you might as well eat it. 
They would all say she had anyway, and point to the crumbs as 
evidence. 

For a moment it was the academy all over again. All 
the boys who asked her out, took her back to her room, 
came in, gave her a kiss maybe, if she was lucky, then 
left. Yet would tell all their buddies they had nailed 
Commander Cain’s daughter. She didn’t have time to 
have screwed all the boys that claimed they had. No 
decent boy would date her, and all the girls hated her. 
If not for the lies, then simply because she was the 
Juggernaut’s daughter, and was supposedly being given extra 
credit for the same. She actually began to write down all 
the names they called her and gave extra points to those who 
came up with some clever variation on "slut" or “Daddy’s Girl”. 
Ultimately, she gave up dating and concentrated on her studies. 

She graduated top of her class, and started her first 
deployment on the front lines. The names were 
different then. Frigid, Ice Queen, Snob, Conceited. It 
didn’t matter, the end result was the same. No one 
asked her out and she wondered if she’d die a virgin. 
It wasn’t until she was transferred to her father’s 
ship that things changed. At first it was the same 
old, same old, everyone avoiding her, or flirting with 
her just to say they had. But one night over an 
ambrosia with her father, things changed. “Life was 
meant to be lived my daughter,” he had said. “Don’t I 
have any men that you like? Just tell me your 
parameters and I’ll transfer a whole squadron for 
you!” Initially, she had thought he was teasing, but 
concern lurked in his shining, blue eyes. Before she 
could stop herself, she had told him everything, the 
academy, her first squadron, blubbering out all of it, yahrens 
of pain bursting forth, no longer restrained by her wilful 
determination, stubbornness and shame. He held her then, 
wiping away her sloppy tears, murmuring words of endearment. 
Then surprisingly, he apologized and said he would “Fix it.” 

She shouldn’t have been surprised, this was the man 
who visited socialators after all, even if they were 
nice ones like Cassiopeia. He could see the importance 
of an intimate relationship and its link to the “will to live” 
of his warriors. He set up her first date. Some military 
function, a man from another ship, tall dark and 
handsome. They had dated for four sectars before he 
was shipped out. She may have sealed with him had he 
lived. Oh, and yes, sex was important. It was glorious 
and exciting. It was more important than food or air 
or life. Things changed after that and she was 
grateful to her father for that. 

She laughed out loud at the thought, the intimidating 
Commander Cain setting up supply closets to be 
purposely empty so that they could be utilized “for 
morale building purposes”. 

Her laughter caused Starbuck to stir. He rolled from 
his side with his back to her, to his front and 
sprawled out on the bed, a hand brushing against 
Sheba’s waist. He shifted again, and now he lay, his 
face mere inches from hers. She could smell the 
ambrosia and fumarellos on his breath. 

He looked so calm, and her heart lifted at the sight. 
He had needed this, a relaxing moment, time to let his 
guard down. So had she. She wanted to reach out and 
trace his lips with her finger, but as she made to move, 
his eyes half opened, the blue beneath flashing for a moment, 
then shut again. He was dreaming she realized, and she 
dreamed herself about how his eyes had been on her. 
He didn’t close his eyes when he kissed her. He 
really looked at her, his eyes never leaving her, like 
a hungry man devouring a feast as she had done things 
to him she had never even dreamed of doing with 
Apollo. Not that the Captain had ever made a serious 
move in her direction. She blushed and almost gasped 
as the images spilled out of her ambrosia fogged mind. 
With a slight shudder she realized she had initiated 
all of it. She had come to Starbuck, taken the drink 
from his hand, pulled him from the chair, invited him 
into the bed. Those lips she longed to trace now, she 
had then longed to kiss her. An entire evening of 
innocent flirting had stirred things in her that she 
had suppressed for far too long. He’d said no, his 
eyes glinting as he teased. “I’m not that easy you 
know. First you have to tell me I’m pretty.” He 
leaned back, that cocky look on his face that normally 
made her want to wipe it off with a good slap. This 
time though, she felt like kissing it away. She felt 
his challenge, and she knew this one she could win. 

She crawled up on the bed, creeping towards him. She 
almost purred when she saw the cocky look slip into 
something else. She grinned her victory smile, and 
watched his eyes light up in a smile of his own. 

“So,” she purred. “I’m supposed to flatter you, is 
that it?” 

“That’s how the game goes.” 

“But Starbuck, you’re not pretty.” As he started to 
say something, started to jest with her in mock anger, 
she had leaned in and kissed him before he could say 
anything. In the spirit of the game Starbuck started 
to back away, a boyish uncertainty lurking in his eyes 
that only made her more determined, and she had 
chased. When they both finally came up for air she 
vaguely recalled Starbuck asking, “Are you sure about 
this?” There was no mirth in his tone, but she had 
teased him back, unwillingly to dispel the earlier 
mood. She didn’t want seriousness. She wanted some 
fun. 

“Sure about what?” She had smiled invitingly. He still 
hesitated, as if he had his own moment of lucidity, 
realizing just who she was to him, his best friend's 
"tentatively almost sort-of leaning towards 
girlfriend". Starbuck started to back away, but she 
had taken his hand, brought his fingers to her lips. 
“No one needs to know. Just one night. Please.” She 
saw the hesitation bubbling to the surface, and 
suddenly she knew she was sure that she needed this, 
needed something. She felt it then in her chest, the 
emptiness, the need, the desire that demanded to be 
filled. She heard it in her voice. She had begged, 
“No one needs to know. Just one night, that’s all, 
please. Please.” She had whispered, and his eyes, 
lords they really were deep pools of blue, stayed 
serious as he teased. “I suppose I could stay, if you 
are asking.” 

She respected Starbuck for that moment, and for the 
fact he never asked it again that night. He went back 
to teasing, to playful, to working at making the 
evening so enjoyable they would only need one. She 
respected the effort he put into his lovemaking. 
Worshipping her body, bringing her to new heights of 
pleasure that she only before fantasized could be 
possible. There was no pretense of shyness or 
tentativeness with either of them. Only undeniable 
pleasure. 

She wasn’t sure if she respected herself this morning. 
Not that she had done anything that she couldn't live 
with. She could even face Cassiopeia and the 
tentative Apollo if she had to, perhaps easier to 
imagine with the warmth of the night still in her 
body. It was that thought, as she watched Starbuck 
dream, that made her wonder how she could accept never 
being here again. Lords he was handsome, and he tasted 
like a sweet liquer. Could she live with just one 
taste? She supposed she should. Like liquor, he wasn't 
good for her. Apollo was. He was stable and secure, on 
his way to becoming Commander of a ship at some point. 
He was the safe bet. Her heart skipped a beat, not a 
good skip, a painful, "oh my god I'm having a heart 
attack" skip, at the thought of the safe bet. "Safe 
but sorry," she mused. 

He smiled and opened his eyes. 

Hook, Line and Sinker 
By Lisa and Vaughn 
Part 2 


She looked . . . worried. Uncertain. Tentative. And oh, /so/ provocative . . . with the sheet draped sensuously around her, not really hiding so much, as accentuating enticing curves and erotic pleasures that he had never in his wildest dreams expected to have the pleasure of sampling. At least not with Sheba. /No one needs to know/. /Just one night, that's all, please/. /Please/. Starbuck let out a languid sigh, stretching out lazily, before turning on his side and idly fingering a silky tendril of her hair. Her expression had changed since his display, and that had been his intent. With a wicked grin, he followed the beguiling pathway of her hair until his finger plucked at the sheet that just barely covered her breasts. 

"Can I help you with that?" he asked teasingly, and she laughed and caught his hand. If he kept it light and fun, the next centar could be one to remember, instead of awkward and full of regret. The time for recriminations would be later, as far as he was concerned. As the old saying went, you made your bed, and now you have to lie in it. He grinned, pushing aside invading thoughts of . . . No, there was far too much potential in this moment. Live for today, it might be your last. 
"Do I look like I need help?" she asked him playfully, her answering smile absolutely stunning as they managed to reclaim the mood of the night before. Then she raised his hand to her lips, nipping at his index finger, smiling at his breath catching, before pushing him insistently onto his back and leaning over him. Her long hair fanned onto his chest before she pressed herself against him suggestively. 

"Well, a fellow always likes to ask a lady . . ." he murmured throatily, raking his fingers through her hair, before tucking it behind her ear. There was nothing more alluring than a satisfied woman, other than maybe waking up with one the next morning, with hunger lurking in her beautiful brown eyes. Hunger for him. He licked his lips in anticipation. 

"Well, this lady likes to do the asking," she replied, then she gazed at him between lowered eyelashes, her eyes alight with devilry. 

And he liked it. 

Lords, it was erotic! That this woman who had seemed almost naïve in some instances when it came to men, and almost Ice Princess-like in others, could be so intriguing, unrestrained and alluring in bed. What else could she be hiding? Was it something about /him/ that brought out that side of her? Well, he could wish. Normally, he liked to take the lead in matters of the flesh, but it was obvious she was getting even more turned on by taking the lead herself. Far be it from him to dissuade her. The truth was that Sheba stirred something deep inside him . . . or maybe not all that deep, but he could quibble over that technicality later, he decided, as she started grazing her teeth along his flesh, awakening his senses, and effectively diverting all of his attention. "Hmmm . . ." 

"And sometimes she just likes to take /without/ asking, hot shot," Sheba added, playfully pinning him to the mattress when he tried to shift her to trade positions. 

"Take whatever you want, sweet lady," he chuckled in abandon, letting sensations and pleasure wash over him. 

"I had a feeling you'd feel that way," she laughed quietly, continuing to languidly explore his toned body. 
It was the most exquisite torture, for a little while. Then his hands clutched at her, pulling her to him insistently to capture her lips in a fiery kiss. 

A /beep/ from the door comm rudely interrupted the moment. 

Hook Line and Sinker--Part 3 
Lisa Zaza and Vaughn 

This time it was Starbuck groaning.  “Just when 
'good morning' had taken on a new and vastly improved 
meaning." Then instinctively he mumbled “What time 
is it?”  He propped himself on an elbow to scan the 
night table for a chrono.  He said a silent prayer as he 
hoped it was still early.  “I’m not ready for this 
night to end.  Lords I needed this.”  He looked at 
Sheba and saw the fear in her eyes, and speculated, 
“and it will never happen again.”  He sighed and 
rolled to his back hoping whoever it was, they would 
just go away. 

Sheba’s heart was pounding, and not just from the 
passion.  She felt like a school kid who’d been 
caught making out in the hallway.  “I’m not a kid anymore.” She thought feeling her anger rise at the 
interruption.  
Then she noticed that Starbuck was watching her. “What?” she said defensively.  
He laughed.  “It’s probably just maid service.  If 
we ignore it, they’ll go away.”  He continued in his 
head what he didn’t dare say out loud, “then maybe you 
can finish what you started.”  
“Oh, and how would you know that?  Spent a lot of 
time in rented rooms have you?”  Sheba tossed it out 
before thinking, and instantly regretted it. 

His smile stayed, but she watched his eyes go cold 
and hard.  “Beats dark doorways all to Hades hole.” Sheba could hear the defensiveness in his voice, but more 
importantly felt him tense and move away.  
There was another chime at the door.  
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it that way.”  Sheba said. 

“And they're not going away.” 

“Don’t worry about it.”  He moved towards her, but 
then she realized it was just so he could crawl over 
her to climb out of the bed, He began scanning the 
room for his pants.  The chiming was becoming more 
insistent.  Starbuck found his pants in a pile and 
pulled them on, then headed to the door.  He still 
held hope that the morning maneuvers could still be 
managed, but he knew the odds were going to be slim 
to 
none if he didn’t get rid of whoever was doing that 
fraking chiming.  His head was ringing with the 
beeping. 

He opened the door a crack, preparing to tell the 
bellhop they’d be out in a few minutes, or to have 
the maid come back later.  Instead he was greeted by 
Bojay’s shocked face. 

“Oh hey, sorry Bucko.  The records said Sheba rented 
the room and our patrol got moved up.  She didn’t 
come 
back last night and. . .” 

Starbuck interrupted him.  “Hang on a centon.”  And 
he shut the door. 

He looked to Sheba, her eyes wide.  “It’s Bojay. Your patrol’s moved up.  Want him to know you’re here?”  
“Frak!”  
Her cussing made Starbuck smile.  It was nice to see 
someone else in the hot seat for once.  He watched 
Sheba sit up and pull the sheet to her trying to 
cover herself.  She swore again under her breath. Starbuck chuckled.  “It’s not that big a deal Sheba.  We’re 
two friends who had too much to drink and got a room. We did the responsible thing.”  Sheba still looked 
down, swearing again.  “Sheba, He’s going to keep looking 
for you.  Don’t worry, just tell him we slept off 
some ambrosia.”  
Sheba looked to Starbuck and he saw the fear in her 
eyes.  She whispered one word, “Apollo”.  Starbuck 
nodded.  He knew what it meant.  The night was over. 
It had been fun, it had been needed and necessary, 
but it was now over. 

More importantly, it had never happened.  
“Don’t worry.  He’ll never know.  We slept off a 
drunk.  End of story.  He’ll believe me.”  She 
looked down to her hands that were bunching up the sheet 
with her worrying, then looked up and nodded. 

Starbuck reopened the door, pulling it wider than he 
had before. 

“Hey Starbuck, I uh…oh…Sheba, uh. . .”  Bojay 
hesitated, was about to say more, and decided it 
best to save it for later.  “Uh, our patrol was moved up 
and, Apollo said you were having a girls night out 
so I thought I might come and let you know.  Maybe take 
you and the gals to breakfast, but,”  Bojay cast a 
look to Starbuck, then back to Sheba, “looks like 
you have somebody to do that already.” 

Sheba started to talk, but Starbuck cut her off. “The gals decided to head back, but Sheba had had a bit 
too much to drink.  I got her a room so she could sleep 
it off.”  Starbuck pointed to the blanket that had 
conveniently slipped from the bed in the midst of 
their lovemaking.  “I took the floor.  I uh…” he 
flashed Bojay his famous pyramid smile, “I’d had a 
few too many myself.  Don’t even remember how we got 
here. Sure hoping Sheba didn’t take advantage of me.” 

“Starbuck!”  Sheba nearly shrieked.  Then she 
laughed and hoped her mock indignation was just enough to 
convince Bojay.  “Starbuck!  You’ll have the whole 
fleet talking, and Apollo mad at me for a secton.” She laughed, hoping those elementary school drama 
classes had paid off.  
Bojays gaze told her that she wise to have quit> acting 
and take up equine riding.  He wasn’t buying it.  
“Okay.  So, I’ll see you back on the Galactica. Patrol is in three centaurs.”  Bojay turned to go. 

Starbuck shut the door.  He couldn’t bring himself 
to look towards the bed, the mussed sheets, and the 
beautiful woman that he had just had, and never 
would again.  He tried instead to remember all the jibes 
and darts she had thrown him since joining the fleet, 
like her crack about him spending all his free time in 
seedy motels.  
Starbuck leaned against the door and nodded a few 
times to himself, and Sheba knew their fun was over. 

She watched Starbuck and she swore he was arguing 
with himself.  Suddenly he looked up to her and their 
eyes met and held.  Sheba thought for a moment that he 
looked sad and lost.  She thought he was going to 
say something, something important and she hoped he 
would say something, say anything.  His look was breaking 
her heart.  
“Starbuck, I…” 

He cut her off.  “I’ll take the turbo first.  We 
should be able to hit the buffet before heading 
back.” 

“Starbuck?  Starbuck?”  Sheba found herself talking 
to Starbuck’s back as he retreated to the turbowash. 

Part 4 
Lisa Zaza and Vaughn proudly present... 

Starbuck in the shower! 

**** 
He shut the door to the small room and prepared to 
enjoy one of the other beautiful and enticing luxuries 
that he so rarely got to experience, a long hot 
turbowash.  Boy did he need one too, because suddenly 
he felt pretty dirty.  
Maybe it was the jibe from Sheba about his choices of 
where to call home, or finding Sheba’s alter ego lap 
daggit at the door.  No, it was the uniform Bojay was 
wearing that really sunk it in, the silver spar 
insignia.  Commander Cain’s ship.  Starbuck had no 
doubt in his mind that the Pegasus was still out 
there, just out of communication range, and out of 
Adama’s authority and more importantly control.  What 
Starbuck wouldn’t give to have joined Cain, to 
actually be fighting the cylons, not running with 
their tails between their legs.  Lords he hated 
showing the Cylons his backside all the time. 

But would that be possible now, joining Cain after 
Starbuck had nailed his daughter?  Starbuck suddenly 
imagined Commander Cain laying Starbuck out with a 
right cross in front of everyone in the Officer’s 
Club.  He imagined it would hurt.  The man was still 
fit, unlike most Commanders.  And Starbuck would have 
to take the hit, or maybe he could get away with 
fighting with Cain, it’s not like Cain would put him 
on report for it if Cain started it.  But Starbuck 
imagined then he’d be at the bottom of a major brawl, 
all of the Pegasus beating his brains out for having 
hit the “Living Legend” AND nailing his daughter.  
So his future career goals of flying for Commander 
Cain were now down the drain.  Funny how these things 
hadn't entered his mind last night.  Then again, they 
hadn't planned on getting caught.  /You never do, 
Bucko/.  Now, what did he have to look forward to 
here?  That’s when his mind drifted to what he’d been 
trying to avoid all night and all morning.  Apollo. “Lords if he finds out, he’s gonna be…”  his thoughts 
trailed off.  In the old days, Apollo would be angry, 
maybe even yell or fight with Starbuck.  But ever 
since Serina’s death, he’d been different.  Distant 
wasn’t quite the word.  He was like he’d shoved all 
his emotions down inside and was sitting on them, like 
he was saving them for a rainy day or something. Starbuck wasn’t sure what Apollo would do.  He might 
even be okay with it, say something like “Have your 
fun, you deserve it.  She’s a great gal.  You two 
would be great together.”  After all, his friend 
seemed no further ahead in asking Sheba out than the 
last time they had briefly talked about it sectons 
ago.  Really, Apollo had no real claim on her, it only 
seemed inevitable to everyone on the Battlestar that 
the two would end up together.  And apparently, Sheba 
was getting tired of waiting for "Captain Slow, but 
not exactly stupid" to make a move.  
But Starbuck knew Apollo had feelings for Sheba and a 
match between the two could perhaps bridge the gap 
between the two Battlestars.  Yet Apollo hadn’t made a 
move.  If he found out Starbuck had, Apollo would 
probably do what he had been doing since Serina’s 
death.  He’d back off and fade into the woodwork 
again, or hide out in the duty office or the bridge. It was like pulling teeth to get Apollo to loosen up 
now and come out with everyone and have a good time. 
That’s why Starbuck was on the Rising Star to begin 
with.  Apollo and he were supposed to be having a boys 
night with Boomer and some others, but they all chose 
to toy around with the cylons that came with Baltar 
and see what help Wilker needed reprogramming them. Fun fun fun!  Starbuck had said “Thanks, but no 
thanks!  Looks like work.”  
Besides, Starbuck was in dire need of some diversion, 
any diversion that took him far away from anything 
looking official or authoritative like.  “A couple of 
days in the Brig for murder has that kind of effect on 
a guy”, Starbuck mused, letting the warm water cascade 
down his back.  He lifted his face to the spray and 
pretended it was a warm summer rain on Caprica.  Lords 
he missed being outdoors.  In the fleet it was 
difficult even to find a room large enough to feel 
comfortable in.  Landing Bays and Triad Courts seemed 
to be the only places he felt he could breathe 
somewhat normally.  Somewhat.  What he wouldn’t give 
for a good mission to a nice delta planet.  “A nice 
delta planet with a beach, frond trees waving in a 
tropical breeze, and a lovely lady to lay with.”  He 
dreamed and his mind instantly put Sheba on the beach. 
“Damn she would look good in a two piece.” Starbuck’s picture suddenly became better as a breeze 
blew off Sheba’s top and she reached out with a bottle 
of sunscreen, “Could you help me with this Starbuck?” She purred his name.  Starbuck imagined himself clad 
in surfing shorts walking towards Sheba, ready and 
willing to offer his help to the damsel in distress, 
when he noticed someone else on the beach.  Apollo in 
full uniform walking towards them.  
Starbuck reached over and pushed the turbo temperature 
to straight cold.  He knew he had to face him 
sometime.  It wasn’t until that moment, with the cold 
prickling his skin that he thought of Cassie. Suddenly facing Apollo didn’t seem so bad.  Starbuck 
wondered if it was her previous career, the socilator 
thing, that gave Cassie the ability to tell every time 
Starbuck even thought of another woman.  “This is 
definitely going to register on her radar.  Maybe I 
can wrangle a long range patrol, find myself a Cylon 
baseship and volunteer.   Bucko, what were you 
thinking?”  
The vision of Sheba, topless, on a tropical beach, 
whispering, just as she had the night before, 
“Please”.  
“Oh yeah, that’s what I was thinking.”  Starbuck 
grinned as he shoved the water back over to warm to 
rinse off.  Then shut off the water and grabbed a 
towel.  As he dried off he noticed a few scratches and 
bite marks here and there.  “Mmm, it was a nice 
diversion.  Oh yeah, I had better avoid Cassie for a 
while.”  Starbuck dried his hair, and thanked the 
Lords that the collars on the colonial uniforms were 
high.  It would cover the hickey on his neck.  

Part 5 
By Vaughn and Lisa 


How had it ended up going so wrong?  How could she be so stupid? 

Sheba tucked her knees into her chest, wrapping her arms around them, rocking herself slightly as she sat alone in the bed.  She could hear Starbuck turning on the turbo wash, could picture the water cascading over his lean, toned body, and wondered idly if it was as cold as her heart felt right now.  Only centons before she would have imagined herself in there with him, helping him lather up, caressing and teasing, tantalising and tasting her lover, knowing he would be only too keen to do the same for her.  Prolonging the ecstacy . . . the fantasy . . . 

Of all the stupid things to mutter when she'd found out that Bojay was there!  /Apollo./  What kind of dreamworld was she living in?  Everybody on the Battlestar, with the possible exception of Commander Adama and Colenel Tigh, had assured her that Apollo was just a little reserved.  Possibly still in mourning.  But that sooner or later, the son of Adama would get around to asking out the daughter of Cain.  The Lords had written it on some damn tablet in some decrepit pyramid, the way they all went on about it.  Yes, she'd even begun to believe it herself.  It seemed that Apollo liked her.  Hades hole, he'd thrown himself in front of Count Iblis' deadly blast for her, despite his memorable and vehement denial that he felt anything akin to jealousy over Iblis' attention.  But the captain hadn't done a great deal to follow up the sacrifice.  She'd been to a few triad games, and out for drinks, but that was almost always with a group of friends.  Never one on one with Apollo.  Lords, he hadn't even kissed her.  The man was an exercise in frustration. 

Starbuck on the other hand . . . 

Oh, she knew he was experienced with the ladies, but not until last night would it have occurred to her what an asset that could be.  She felt herself flush at the thought of the intimacy they had shared.  The excitement.  The passion.  That man had turned lovemaking into an artform that was not for the timid, nor the meek.  He had awakened desires in her she hadn't known had existed, leaving her hungry for more.  No wonder it had taken a socialator . . . Sheba winced, hiding her face in her hands. 
Cassiopeia.  How could she have treated a woman that she had come to think of as a friend with such callous disregard?  Did it have something to do with a previous hatred and resentment that she thought she was long over?  Or was it merely the alcoholic haze or animal magnetism that had somehow convinced her that if neither her or Starbuck said a word, that they could pretend it didn't happen.  An image of Starbuck with those teasing blue eyes that seemed to burn with desire . . . desire for her . . . 

Stop it! 

It was wrong!  All wrong.  They'd both had too much to drink.  /She/ certainly had.  Impaired judgment.  That's what it was.  As for Starbuck . . . well, she liked to think that his judgment had been impaired too . . . but regret certainly hadn't been predominantly on his mind when he had awakened this morning.  In fact, if it hadn't been for Bojay showing up, Starbuck would have had them continuing their tryst right up until Zeibert showed up pounding on the door, demanding an extra day's fee for staying past their time.  Not that she had been complaining, mind you. 

She sighed.  Starbuck brought out another side of her.  The side she kept carefully hidden away.  The disrespectful, selfish side evidently.  But the passion, Lords of Kobol  . . . 

She glanced at the turbowash door as she heard the water turn off.  Her emotions were still in turmoil.  Somehow she knew she couldn't face him just now.  Springing from the bed, she gathered up her garments, pulling them on with the practice of a warrior responding to yet another klaxon, except she usually wasn't donning high heels and a dress.  She finger-combed her hair into place, stepping through the door into the corridor.  She turned to go, not daring to look back. 
"Sheba!" 

The door slid shut on his cry, and she broke into a jog, desperate to outrun the memory of his dismayed voice chasing her all the way to the docking lounge. 


***************************************** 

How long had Starbuck stood there staring at 
the back of the closed door that Sheba had disappeared through?  /Do you 
actually think she's coming back/?  He sighed, pulling off the towel he 
had draped around his waist, to briskly dry his hair.  "Frak!" 

It wasn't supposed to end like this.  Damn Bojay and his overprotective 
nature, putting Sheba into a tail spin, and launching her out the door. Most likely, 
by now she was waiting in the docking lounge for the next 
shuttle, all dolled up in that sexy little number she'd been wearing last night. 
He'd been hoping to get another look at her in that before . . .  He hastily 
pulled on his uniform, as always impressed that it looked suitably smart after 
smoothing it out a couple times, having spent the rest period in a crumpled heap 
on the floor.   /Shake it off, Bucko/.   Just one night, she'd said.  She'd 
meant it, and so did he. 

At the time. 

He bolted through the door, pausing in the corridor indecisively for the moment. 
This was crazy.  He /wasn't/ going to chase her.  After all, she obviously didn't 
want his company, or she'd have waited for him to come through the turbo wash 
door dressed in his towel.  Which, by the way, would be considered 'overdressed' 
for his usual romantic trysts. 

No, there was a perfectly good buffet that came 
with the room, and for the price Sheba had paid for it, by the Lords of 
Kobol, one of them was going to eat breakfast!  That decided, he strode 
towards the dining lounge, not missing a step when he spotted Bojay 
waiting by the entrance. The Silver Spar pilot didn't look happy. In fact, 
that glower was most likely for him.  In response, he grinned 
cockily, ignoring Bojay and speaking ahead to Zeibert, "My usual 
table, Zeibert." 

"Lieutenant . . ." Zeibert nodded, putting out 
a hand expectantly.       
Starbuck dropped his room cardkey in the man's 
palm, knowing that while it would get him breakfast, it wasn't what the 
other was expecting.  He smiled boyishly, as Zeibert raised a 
sceptical eyebrow.  Then a tylinium grip on his shoulder forcibly turned 
him around to stare into blazing, angry blue eyes.  "Oh, you again." 

"We need to talk." Bojay told him, grabbing him 
by the arm and marching him back down the corridor. 

"Hey!" Starbuck called back to Zeibert, "Hold 
my table!"  Then he was being propelled around a corner and slammed into 
a wall. 

"Stay away from her, Starbuck!" Bojay snarled. 

"She's in the buffet?" Starbuck wondered aloud, 
then shifted his thinking as Bojay looked at him increduously, 
rolling his eyes towards the ceiling briefly before grabbing him by his 
flight jacket and slamming him against the wall again. 

That was enough. 

Starbuck drove his arms up through Bojay's and 
outward, breaking the hold the other man had on him before shoving him 
roughly across the hall.  "Mind your own goddamned business, Bojay.  We 
were just crashing for the night.  Nothing happened."  The secret to a 
successful lie was to never admit to the several gaping holes in his 
story that he'd thought up since spinning that particular yarn. 

"Bovine mong!" Bojay snarled back, taking a fighting stance. "I saw the 
love bite on your neck.  She was naked, Starbuck!" 

He clenched his right hand, forcing himself to 
not touch his neck, or to take a similar pose.  The last thing he needed 
was to end up on report for fighting, drawing even more attention to 
this little episode.  "So what's your point?" He smiled wryly, 
watching Bojay take a menacing step forward.  Starbuck raised a hand. 
"C'mon, Bojay, you know Sheba better than anybody else.  She wouldn't go for 
a guy like me." 

Bojay hesitated, studying Starbuck's face suspiciously.  He relaxed ever so slightly. 
"But I saw . . . " 

Starbuck pulled his collar down.  "This?  I got 
this from some bimbo on the dance floor.  The truth is, I had too much to 
drink, and Sheba stopped me from making an astrum of myself." He let 
go of his collar, shrugging innocently, managing to look embarrassed. In a 
blink he recalled their room and exactly where their clothes 
had been discarded.  Sheba's were out of sight on the other side of the 
bed.  Hopefully, Bojay hadn't spotted his briefs draped over the 
lampshade.  Then again, Cassie had once told him that men never seem to 
notice their discarded underwear unless it was pointed out to them.  "She 
wasn't naked.  She spilled some ambrosa on her dress, and it was drying 
in the turbo flush." That was at least partially true.  She had 
spilled ambrosa last night.  "Think about it, Bojay.  Sheba with /me/? She's 
had her eye on Apollo for sectons.  Adama's son and Cain's 
daughter.  It's a match made in 'happily-ever-after'."  The smile was tough 
to paste on his face, but after a lifetime of bluffing, he could manage. 

Bojay's emotions played across his face like a 
holovid come to life.  Starbuck could tell he was battling what he 
saw, with what he /wanted/ to see.  And he was just beginning to 
think he had pulled it off when abruptly his head snapped back into the 
wall from the force of Bojay's fist.
Starbuck stepped off the shuttle onto the deck of the
Galactica feeling worse than when he had left.  For a
few brief hours, while flirting, gambling and dancing,
he had felt oh so good, and then the extra recreation
had his nerves and muscles completely unkinked.  But
as soon as the new day broke, it was shattered,
decimated, razed, in more ruins than the twelve
worlds.  The glare of the landing bay lights made his
black eye throb even harder than it had been on the
shuttle ride.  Squinting, he wondered briefly if his
cheek bone was busted as well as his lip, and maybe he
should hit the Life Center and check it out.  Of
course that would up his odds of running into Cassie,
and he decided he could live with the pain.  His head
was throbbing as well, but he was pretty sure that was
from the hangover, not from the pummeling he took from
Bojay.  

He looked down at his hands noting the cuts, scrapes
and bruises on his knuckles.  “Okay, maybe I didn’t
take a pummeling.”  He thought to himself as he
remembered that he took the first two punches.  First
one caught him off guard, and the second one he
figured he deserved.  When Bojay wound up for a third
one, there was no way he was going to stand still like
an idiot.  They had both thrown a few punches, fast
and furious, each one connecting, then Bojay had
backed off.  “Stay away from her.”  Bojay had growled
at him before stalking off for the next shuttle to the
Galactica.  Starbuck had found a restroom to clean up,
grabbed some pastries from the free buffet, and
figured it was safe to head back, that Bojay and Sheba
would be gone.  

He was right, and Starbuck rode back on a mostly empty
shuttle, that was until they stopped off at the
Celestra and the Orphan Ship on their way.  By the
time he hit the Galactica, his head was really
pounding from the crying sick kids, and he was tired
of being stared out by the uptight officers from the
Celestra in their shiny uniforms.  

Starbuck lowered his head, then reached up and swept
his hair more forward in the hopes of covering up the
evidence.  He headed for the barracks and the
painkillers he had tucked away in his locker from the
last time he was injured and he didn’t finish the
prescribed mediciation.  As he walked into the
barracks, he caught that people were staring at him. 
He didn’t realize that his eye had gained its full
color on the shuttle ride until Boomer caught his arm
and whistled.  

“Starbuck, what happened?”  

“What do you mean?  I had a night off, that’s what.” 
Starbuck answered defensively.

“Your eye Bucko.  Take a look.  That purple is quite
fetching on you.”  Boomer said handing Starbuck a
small mirror from his locker.  Starbuck took it and
checked out the damage.  Boomer was right, it was a
overripe summer fruit sitting on his face right where
his eye should be.

“Frak me.”  Starbuck muttered.

“Yup, looks like you got fraked.  How much did the
Colonel yell?”  Boomer asked, rummaging in his locker
for an emergency ice pack.  He cracked the pack to
activate it, and handed it to Starbuck.  Starbuck
nodded a thanks and sat on his bunk placing the pack
on his eye.  

“He doesn’t know yet.  And no one is going to tell
him!”  Lord he hadn’t counted on that one, and he sure
didn’t feel much like sitting through another lecture
about how he was supposed to be a responsible role
model.  Not that he thought he would get that speech
after nearly being convicted of murdering a fellow
pilot over a triad match.  To say he had a reputation
in the fleet now was an understatement.  He couldn’t
afford to go on report for fighting.  The IFB would
have a field day, and Adama would be forced to give
him some more time in the brig.  Starbuck started to
sweat just at the thought of one more day in the brig,
let alone two, or three, or..He felt himself starting
to breathe harder, as if he couldn’t suck in enough
air.

“Hey, far be it for me to report you for what you do
in your offtime.  So, who was the lucky participant in
this, er, rest and recreation?”

“No one.”

“So you fought with yourself, is that it?  I knew you
had some issues to work out, but really Starbuck, you
should have just settled for talking it out.”  Boomer
chuckled.

“Ha ha, very funny.”  Starbuck was going to add more,
but decided it was best just to keep quiet.  Besides,
he was busy trying not to have a panic attack.  

“No really, who did you get in a fight with?”  Boomer
asked, dropping his teasing tone.

>From behind him he heard Giles voice answer, “It was
Bojay.”

Boomer kept his eyes on Starbuck, his eyebrows rising
as his interest was piqued, “Really, is that so?”

Giles came around the bunk to stand with Boomer
looking down on Starbuck.  Boomer wondered how many
times had Starbuck looked like this, like a little kid
waiting for the principal to call him into his office.
 It also reminded him of the look on Starbuck’s face
as he was locked into the brig for possibly murdering
Ortega.  A look that was slightly surly, but mostly
scared and lost, followed by a resignation that his
worst fears would of course come true.

“Yup.  I just saw him in the launching bay.  He’s
sporting a nice black eye too, though not as colorful
as that one.  Wow, I’d love to get Brie a dress in
that color.  Anyway, I didn’t get a chance to talk to
him, but Sheba was chewing him a new one, and,” Giles
grinned, “Apollo wants to see Starbuck in the duty
office.  So, what happened, come on, you can tell me.”
 

“Right,” Starbuck mumbled, “You broadcast better and
faster than the IFB!  I live with a bunch of gossiping
old fishwives!  Sagans sake, and I thought the girls
were bad.  I tell you what, why don’t you two go watch
your daily stories, and leave me alone!”

Starbuck got up and headed off to face the music.  He
wasn’t sure what he was walking into when he found
himself standing before the duty office door.  Did
Bojay tell Apollo everything, and Apollo decided to
end their friendship behind the closed doors of the
office.  Or did Sheba get to him first, and Apollo
decided to end their friendship behind closed doors. 
Or did security put him on report, and he had a secton
of turboflush washing to look forward to before Apollo
chose to end their friendship when Sheba told him
everything.  Or was it going to be Apollo who had to
lock him in the brig, or… Best to just face it and get
it over with.”  

Starbuck tried to put his fears to rest, but suddenly
the walls felt like they were closing in.  “Maybe he
doesn’t know.  Bojay’s not going to report it.  He
threw the first punch.”  Starbuck reasoned with
himself.  Maybe, with the way Apollo had been acting
lately, if Starbuck gave him time to calm down, got
Boomer involved, maybe then he could patch up the
friendship.  There were lots of other girls in the
fleet.  Apollo didn’t need a Pegasus pilot.  There was
always Dietra or Rigel. 

Starbuck sucked in a deep breathe, held it, then
launched into the unknown, keyed the door open and
entered the room.  

Apollo was hunched over the computer, with printouts
spread all around him.  He looked up briefly, then
looked back down.  “Hey Starbuck.  We need to work out
the rotations and we have a fresh group of cadets that
could use some training, but we also have some vipers
due for overhauls.  Plus we have shuttle pilots that
need some training and the foundry ship has some new
shuttles we should work out the bugs on.  Add to that
the picket patrols, and…”  

As Apollo prattled on Starbuck breathed a sigh of
relief as it seemed Apollo was clueless.  That was
until Apollo stopped dead in the middle and looked up
to Starbuck again.

“Starbuck?”  Apollo didn’t say anything else.  He was
completely flabbergasted at what he saw.  Half of
Starbuck’s face was a deep purple, the other half was
covered by his flat lip.  “Lords, what happened?”

“I’ll get the rosters going for the cadet training,
balanced out with the viper overhauls.”  Starbuck
moved to go sit down at a computer at the other desk,
a desk that would conveniently put his back to Apollo.


*********************** 


Just what she needed! 

Sheba pounded the console of her Viper, redirecting her hostility from her wingman before she shot him down.  Of course, Bojay /couldn't/ have simply gone back to the Galactica to wait for her, instead he'd decided to confront Starbuck, and the two warriors had ended up in a fight!  Just when Sheba had decided to have a quiet little talk with her oldest and dearest friend, and tell him to keep his big mouth shut about her and Starbuck, the men had complicated matters even more!  Now everybody was going to be asking why Starbuck and Bojay were pounding the felgercarb out of one another.  Add to that her little display of chewing Bojay out in the launch bay when she had first seen the shiner he had worn back from the luxury liner, and it wouldn't be long before everybody put it together. 

"Frak!" She exploded, banging on the console once again.  She could feel tears pricking the backs of her eyes as a wave of frustration and helplessness washed over her.  One night's indiscretion would have her reputation in tatters before the day was out.  It would be just like the Academy all over again. 
"What were you thinking?" Bojay's voice came over their private line. 

"What was /I/. . ."  She wanted to scream.  Rupturing his eardrums over shooting him down, was surely the more honourable option. 

"You can do so much better, Sheba!" Bojay elaborated, in case she didn't get it.  "For Sagan's sake, I thought you and Cassiopeia were friends!  You three aren't . . ." He trailed off uncomfortably. 

"NO!" Sheba replied, horrified.  "This is none of your business, Bojay.  None!  You had /no/ right to pick a fight with Starbuck." 

"I'm just trying to look out for you, Sheba.  That's what friends /do/." His voice sounded weary.  "Of all the guys, in all of the Fleet, why in Hades hole would you pick /Starbuck/?  You know his reputation.  I thought you had him pegged from day one.  I can't believe you'd be so naive!" 

"I thought you were friends.  Doesn't sound like you have much good to say about him all of a sudden." Sheba replied sharply. 

"Hey, if I was flying into the heart of Cylon, then for sure I'd want Starbuck on my wing, but if I had a sister . . . " He sighed.  "Let's just say, I wouldn't introduce them." 

"I'm /not/ naive." 

"C'mon, Sheba.  I haven't seen you in a relationship since before we shipped out with the Fifth Fleet.  That's a /long/ time." 

"Tell me about it." She muttered, recognizing the concern in his tone.  This was /Bojay/.  He was closer than any brother could be.  "Did it ever occur to you that I was lonely, Bojay?" 

"I . . . I guess I thought you were waiting for some guy that your father would accept into the family . . . Somebody like Apollo.  Lords, if Cain knew about /Starbuck/ . . ." 

"Stop it!  Don't you /dare/ bring my father into this!" She all but shrieked.  Aside from losing her mother and her father, and Count Iblis striking down Apollo, this had been one of the most emotionally draining days of her life.  From rapture to ruin, all in the space of centars.  This time the tears spilled over, trailing down her cheeks. 

"Sorry, Sheba." Bojay returned sincerely.  "But . . . I believe he's out there still.  I wouldn't bring Commander Cain up otherwise.  You know that, don't you?" 

She sniffed quietly in response, scratching at a renegade tear beneath her helmet. 

"Sheba?" He sounded hesitant. 

She swallowed a couple times, choking down her emotions.  Would her father--the man who had romanced a socialator--care if Starbuck was an officer without a bloodline?  A nameless orphan.  The warrior /was/ a decorated hero, after all.  /I only want the best for my little girl/.  Yes, he'd care.  A lot.  "What?" 

"If you were lonely . . .why didn't you . . . well . . . tell /me/." Bojay paused.  "I'd treat you a lot better than Starbuck, given the chance." 

She closed her eyes, wishing a wayward meteorite would pick her off right now.  "Oh, Bojay . . ." she whispered brokenly.

**************************
"Are you going to tell me what happened?" Apollo asked quietly, staring at his best friend's back.  Starbuck had obviously been in a fight from the black eye he was sporting.  Apollo sighed as his wingman seemed to hold his breath.  "Or should I just wait for it to come across my desk?"

Starbuck blew out a deep breath, sitting back in his chair and swivelling around about half way to almost face the Captain.  Strategically, he kept the bruised side of his face turned away from Apollo's direct line of sight.  "It's nothing." He shrugged.  "Just a disagreement."

"With who?" Apollo asked.  He was absolutely clueless.  At least for now.

"Does it matter?" Starbuck shrugged.

"Maybe.  Civilian or military?" Apollo shot back.

"Military." Starbuck replied reluctantly.

"/I'm/ the Captain." Apollo reminded him.  "I'm going to find out eventually.  I'd rather find out from /you/."

Starbuck ran a hand back through his hair.  Apollo had a gift for inserting just the right amount of understanding balanced with a modicum of guilt . . . but luckily he was resistant to such measures.  There had to be a way to salvage the situation, but danged if he could think of what it was.  "It was stupid, Apollo.  It's over."

Apollo stood, taking a couple paces in the small duty office, before turning to regard his friend.  "Starbuck, there are regs about fighting.  You /know/ that."

"A few punches isn't exactly a fight."

"Maybe in your book.  The manual says differently." Faint amusement crossed his features, before he glowered once again.  "I really don't want to put you on report."

Starbuck shrugged insouciantly.  "Then don't."

Apollo held up a hand in frustration.  "You're not exactly making this easy."

"Neither are you." Starbuck returned.

"/Starbuck/ . . ." Apollo growled, shaking his head and pacing across the office once again.  "What could be so bad that you can't tell me about it?  For Sagan's sake, Starbuck, I'm your best friend!"

Lords of Kobol, it was like a laser cutting him through.  /If that's how you treat your best friend, it's no wonder you're so deadly to the Cylons/. . . He hung his head, feeling like complete and utter mong.  Every precious moment that he had shared with Sheba seemed to have incinerated, mutating into this quagmire of confrontation and misery.  "It was Bojay.  I got in a fight with Bojay."

"Bojay?" Apollo gaped.  "But you're friends!  How did you end up . . .?"

Starbuck shook his head, staring down at his boots, again raking a hand through his hair.  He couldn't quite force himself to meet Apollo's gaze.  He couldn't bring himself to lie to him either, though it certainly crossed his mind.  "It's personal," he whispered.

Silence seemed to descend on them like a cold cloud of suspense.  Apollo was a smart guy, and while he might be a little slow to fire his thrusters down the launch tube of romance, it wouldn't take him long to put Bojay, 'it's personal', and a fight together and come up with . . . 

"/Sheba/?" It came out like a strangled gasp.  "/You/ and Sheba . . .?"

Starbuck closed his eyes.  He didn't have the guts to look his friend in the eye just now, to see the accusation of betrayal that he knew would be displayed so openly.  Yeah, as slow as Apollo had been about dating Sheba, there had been an understanding that eventually he would get around to it.  The lady, as it turned out, had tired of waiting.  Starbuck's guts twisted and his stomach churned, and he was the one who had the benefit of a night of passion to fortify himself.  "It just sort of happened.  Too much to drink . . ." he explained weakly, his head throbbing in agreement.  He omitted the fact that it had been pure magic.  Yeah, he had best be tucking that detail away to reminisce about in his final moments . . . which he hoped weren't the ones he was currently living in.

"/Frack/, Starbuck . . ." Apollo turned, his hands resting on his hips and his back turned.  He blew out a ragged breath, shaking his head in disbelief.  "Goddammit to Hades hole . . .I can't /believe/ this . . ."

The tension in the room built until it was deafening.  Starbuck felt as though he would jump out of his skin if Apollo didn't say or do something soon.  The Captain stood with his back to him, his hands clenching at his sides, shutting him out as completely as if he had left the room.  It dragged on endlessly, until it was so painful in its intensity that the Lieutenant simply couldn't stand it anymore.  "For Sagan's sake, Apollo, say /something/!"

"Just get out of here, Starbuck." Apollo whispered, still refusing to turn.  "Get out of here."