When the Cylons first attacked, all our futures were uncertain considering out of billions of people only a few thousand survived. The human race became an endangered species in a matter of hours. And then they kept chasing us, meaning we lost more and everybody, even the military hardened of the fleet started doubting that any of us had a future.
The thing about living is that people need hope to keep breathing, need to know that there’s more to life than just living it and one day things will get better.
Thinking about the future was the hardest when we kept having to jump every 33 minutes because the Cylons wouldn’t let us be. Nobody thought we could keep doing it, but we did and after that? Thinking about the future got easier.
It started to get easier to be human again, to hope for better and live for the hope of finding a new home.
New Caprica was supposed to be our new home, a fresh start, our new future, but then the machines came and ruined it again. We had to run, fleeing to the only thing we knew. Now our future - my future - lies with the stars and the endless search for a place called Earth.
Not living in fear of our lives is where humanity’s future lies and I intend on seeing it there.
Muse : Lee "Apollo" Adama
Fandom : Battlestar Galactica
Word Count : 231
- Current Mood:
busy
Lee was not much older than Zak when he first started noticing the small things he missed when he was younger: a missing figure at the head of the table, the precariously placed bottle of Ambrosia, the slurred syllables of his mother’s angry tirade about a husband’s inability to be home on time and the rapidly cooling meal that neither himself or Zak could eat because their mother had forbidden from touching it until their father was home.
Fat chance, not that Lee voiced that particular opinion, his mother was already straddling the line separating sober from totally wasted - he wasn’t going to be the one who pushed her over it, he’d never hear the end of it.
Unfortunately Zak hadn’t caught on like Lee and he reached out to steal a potato, barely getting it near his mouth when their mother was on him, long fingers curled around his wrist, nails biting into skin. “What do you think you’re doing?” She hissed, eyes narrowed into angry slits, green liquid sloshing free of the glass clasped in her other hand.
Lee moved quicker than he ever thought possible, extracting his mother’s talon-like nails from around his younger brother’s wrist. “He’s just hungry,” he pointed out. “Shouldn’t he eat if he’s hungry?”
“Not until your father is home!” She snapped, wrenching her hand free of Lee’s grip. “Wouldn’t want him to come home to an empty table, Gods forbid. None of us would hear the end of it, not from the great Adama.”
“That’s not Zak’s fault,” Lee responded as he could practically feel Zak shrinking in his seat. “He’ll just eat enough for himself, I don’t think dad would begrudge him that.”
This inspired a hyena-like cackle from his mother who took great joy in swallowing a mouthful of alcohol. “Oh, of course not! He has paid for it after all. Spends enough time telling me all about how hard he works for everything we have.” She glanced at the children and snorted. “Fine, eat, but you’ll deal with your father when he comes home.” There was a pause and another swallow of alcohol. “If he comes home that is.”
“Fine,” Lee muttered as he turned back to Zak and started to serve him some food, reassuring him that it was okay and dad wouldn’t mind. It was only when he was sure Zak had enough that Lee allowed his attention to drift to the angry mumbling of his mother and the crashing of cutlery and china as she took out her frustration on the kitchen. Again.
Zak looked in the direction of the kitchen and Lee just offered him a smile. “It’s okay, Zak. Mom’s… She’s just a little- There’s nothing to worry about.” He swept some of Zak’s hair back and ruffled it a moment later, directing his attention back to the food. “Go on, dig in, before it gets cold.”
Once Zak was settled and eating happily, Lee braced his shoulders and entered the proverbial lion’s den otherwise known as the kitchen, in the hopes that he might be able to stop his mother from wrecking everything and drinking herself into oblivion.
Nothing like a good old fashioned family meal to make you feel more grown up than your supposed parents.
Muse : Lee "Apollo" Adama
Fandom : Battlestar Galactica
Word Count : 553
- Current Mood:
uncomfortable
Whenever the Cylons attack and the old girl fires them out of launch tubes, Lee finds himself wondering how many he's going to lose and if he'll even make it back alive. He likes to think that they'll all make it, but the truth is: they won't. This is a time of war and in every war there are casualties and losses, faces you'll never get back and decisions you'll always regret.
Some turn to the Gods, others to alcohol and some to each other.
The bulkheads of Galactica are littered with the faces of people loved and lost, some on the colonies and others in the heat of battle. The priests have said their prayers, asked the Lords of Kobol to carry the souls of those lost to the heavens above where they might find peace, Lee speaks no prayers and refuses to have any said for him.
Every day after a briefing the pilots file out and touch the picture up on the wall, a long held belief that it will give them good fortune and send tribute to those that have fallen before them, it's tradition more than anything else; something they all learn. Lee watches and hopes that it's true, that what he was told in flight school isn't a load of bullshit and there's something to it.
There's no way of telling if the Gods exist or if there's something to this supposed life after death, but it seems to give people some peace of mind. Lee isn't so sure and it worries him because he's made friends and started to care about these people under his command, he wants to know if there's some truth to all of this so it isn't so hard to send them to their deaths depending on the outcome of the dog fight.
Who watches out for those who watch out for others?
It's taken Lee a while to realise that it isn't the fabled Gods, the alcohol in their glasses or the warm embrace of somebody's arms, it's the commanding officers who make the decisions and live with the consequences. He spends more time sending thoughts to the stars above for the people under his command than he does for himself, telling them 'good hunting' when he actually means 'come back alive'.
It doesn't matter that nobody and nothing is watching out for him because he's watching out for the people he commands, the people he's responsible for and the same people who put their lives on the line every day for the sake of humanity and this fleet.
He'll keep watching until he's too tired and too old to do anything else.
Muse : Lee "Apollo" Adama
Fandom : Battlestar Galactica
Word Count : 445
- Current Mood:
contemplative
Lee stopped thinking literal explosion of colour and light a long time ago, right about the same time as he met Kara Thrace and then the worlds came to an end.
Fireworks isn't watching a bright fun explosion in the sky, it's watching Kara Thrace swig back too many cups of the Chief's homemade brew and then watching Kat push all the wrong buttons until sure enough there's a fist in somebody's face.
It's watching a Cylon basestar exploding in front of your eyes, the very same eyes that can only watch as the fleet gets further and further away as you drift out of control.
Fireworks is the tempers amongst the civilians, boiling over until somebody does something stupid and somebody gets hurt. It's the anger and bitterness that has infected the entire fleet and it's the powder keg of human emotion.
They're not beautiful anymore, not in the way that Lee remembers. He can only think of explosion of emotion and the uncontrollable sprial of feeling that seems to drive the fleet apart more and more each day.
Maybe he's embittered and maybe he's not feeling all that great after his space walk into absolute oblivion, but he's stopped seeing the good in things and stopped looking for beauty in life.
Fireworks no longer mean celebration or life to one Lee Adama, they just mean that somebody gets hurt and it all ends in tears.
Muse : Lee "Apollo" Adama
Fandom : Battlestar Galactica
Word Count : 237
- Current Mood:
cold
