The phrase echoes over and over in Lee's head, swimming in the corner of his vision. When things fall apart, you go to ground. He's a pilot, but he's also a soldier, and every word is still there, somewhere in his head. He glances around, not knowing where he is, the settled planet still mostly a wilderness, uninhabitable but for the air they can breathe and the water they can drink.

But there's ground. Hard, solid, packed earth beneath his feet, so Lee keeps moving, edging through clumps of trees and shrubs that pick and cling to his tattered uniform. His body moves different, the sloughed off weight no longer slowing him down, as he works his way across the terrain. He knows someone is behind him somewhere and is unsure whether they are friend or foe, and he's really got no desire to find out which right now.

His heart is pumping hard and fast, adrenalin in his system like fire. He sees the shift in the light and moves toward it, darkness beckoning like a homing beacon as he nears the foothills, shattered rocks and tumbles of granite cropping up between the trees as they thin, the sweep of an uphill climb looming large in front of him.

He hits the ground hard, grunting at the impact. Night's falling fast and his eyes aren't used to the shift in the light, the uneven surface of rock and dirt and roots. He rolls over and stares up at the sky for a moment, watching the stars align before his eyes, watching them from the different vantage point, trying to make them make sense.

He knew he'd stay aboard ship, even if he'd never been offered command of the Pegasus. As much as he dreamed of walking away from it all, the military had formed Lee's life from day one, and there was no way he could leave it, no way he could sacrifice the heart of him. He looked for the tell-tale fires of light that signified a ship and saw nothing but empty sky and unreachable stars. With a soft exhalation, he gets to his feet and starts moving again.

The first cave stinks of urine, different than human, and he'd rather not fight for living space with something wild. He moves on, the climb growing steeper, the ground beneath his feet solid rock. His nails are broken and bleeding from digging in to the unforgiving surface as he climbs. He rips the knee of his uniform as he tugs himself into another cave, uncaring anymore who might be his companion for the night. He can feel the gash as the sharp rock tears through flesh as well as fabric and hisses, careful to keep the sound contained within the small space he's claimed as his own.

His breathing is rougher than when he began and he's still not back in the shape he had been. He curses himself silently, letting digs at his pride cost him of it completely, taking hard words to heart and losing his self-respect in response. He closes his eyes and leans back against the rock, the coolness of it stinging the heated sweat that lies on his neck, rough against the short hairs at the back of his head.

A shadow separates itself from the darkness of the night and he draws his weapon, cursing himself for stopping. A sliver of moon splits the night and he stills, hand on the trigger. His voice isn't his own, pushed out past control and into emotion. "Kara."

He knows better than to trust his eyes, trust his heart. Cylons wrap truth in lies, wrap lies in flesh. Lee's hard enough on himself to know his own weaknesses, and doesn't doubt that his enemies know them as well. His father. His brother. Kara. She tilts her head, watching his weapon with wary eyes. "Hey, Lee."

They've not spoken in months other than a few terse words and coded messages. The softness of her voice nearly undoes him and he reminds himself he's married. She's married. She's not real.

"Who do you trust?" she asks quietly, slipping into the mouth of the cave. The last of the moonlight shifts over her skin and he sees the dark burn of the tattoo on her flesh. "Who do you trust when the enemy wears the face of your friends?"

He thinks about his fears when she went back to Caprica - she'd told him about the Farm, about the harvesting. She'd rambled incoherently in her booze until she'd slumped to sleep and he and Helo had dragged her back to her bunk, and then Helo had told him the rest - and how he was worried not that the Cylons would capture her again, use her again, but that the man she thought she loved, the people she wanted to rescue weren't exactly as they seemed anymore. He thinks about how none of them know what the Cylons really are any more, what they do. How there are twelve and not more or if there are twelve now and more in progress.

"You don't trust anyone."

She smiles and he can see Kara in her eyes, wants to see Kara in her eyes. "So why haven't you shot me yet?"

"Because I don't trust myself."

"That's not the Lee Adama I remember."

He wants to laugh. "That Lee Adama doesn't exist anymore." He doesn't remind her that she killed him, that she buried him with an avalanche of heated words that melted the hard exterior he'd worn and burned him through.

"Do any of us?" She sits in the cave across from him, watching the muzzle of his gun. "Are you going to shoot me, Lee?"

"I haven't decided yet."

"I'm on your side."

"You've always been on the same side as me, Kara. Doesn't mean you haven't hurt me." He laughs softly, the sound surprising him in its bitterness. "But then, I'm not telling you anything you don't already know, am I? You always reveled in your power to hurt me."

"I never tried to hurt you, Lee."

"You just possess an extraordinary talent for it, then." He nods. "Just like everything else."

"Lee…"

"Why are you here? I don't know anything. I don't have anything." He safeties his gun and sets it on the ground, his finger still close to the trigger, his hand still wrapped around the butt. "I'm a man without a country, without a planet, without a ship. I'm done."

"If you were done, you wouldn't still be running."

He gestures to the cave around them. "I'm not running."

"No." She admits, her voice catching. "You're not. Why aren't you running, Lee?"

"I'm tired, Kara. Tired of running. Tired of fighting."

She shakes her head and gets to her feet, moves over to him. She settles beside him, shifting so she can lean her head against his shoulder. "I'll never believe that."

"No? Says the girl who left it all behind to run away and become a housewife?"

"Tentwife," she reminds him softly. "I'm not like you, Lee."

"Human?"

"No." Her whisper feathers against his chest, through his jacket and his tanks to his skin beneath. "If anything I'm far more human than you." She looks up at him, and even in the darkness, he thinks he can see her eyes. Those familiar, haunting eyes. "You're not tired, Lee. You just don't know what you're fighting for."

"Humanity?"

She skirts a hand around the back of his neck, tugging him down to press his lips against hers. "As much as you reach for those lofty goals, Lee, you need something more tangible, more personal."

"You?"

She kisses him again, soft enough that it almost feels real. "You don't stop, Lee. You're like the old man. You don't know how. You'll stop when you're dead."

He feels the muzzle hard against the base of his skull. "Isn't that what I am?"

Lee wakes with a jerk, the movement causing a low sound from Dee's side of the bed. He gasps, sucking in the familiar heavy air of Pegasus, letting the stale, metallic taste of it coat his tongue.

He lays there, his eyes open and staring at the ceiling, the blankets heavy and warm against his skin. He rolls over and places a soft kiss on Dee's shoulder then sits up, tugging on his sweats and shoes before heading to the door.

The ship is as silent as a Battlestar ever gets, the lights dimmed in some imitation of night. He starts off walking, slowly working his way to a jog and then a run. He can feel the sweat, can feel the burn in unused and atrophied muscles. He keeps his eyes straight ahead and runs the circuit again and again until exhaustion seeps into him, bringing him to a gasping halt, bent over, his hand on the bulkhead as he sucks in mouthfuls of air.

Out of habit, he rests his other fist against his side, feeling the hard pucker of his scar beneath his shirt. He traces the line of it, smoothing his finger over the ridges and valleys. He closes his eyes and takes another breath then starts off again, slower this time, determined to get back to his quarters.

He feels the sweat burn its way down his back and shivers in its wake. Shower. Sleep. Wake up. Do it all again. Lee reaches the hatch and stops, catching his breath again. No. Things change here and now. He starts living again.

After all, he's not dead.

Yet.