He closes his eyes and just sits in his Viper, the canopy open and the eyes of everyone locked on him. He knows he needs to get up, get to his feet, move out, move on. Except his muscles refuse to obey, refuse to do anything he tells them to. His brain tells him he should be used to mutiny and insubordination by now. Should be used to everything after her.

"Major?"

Lee sniffs and shakes his head, blinking as noise comes flooding back. Hums and whirs and voices, the faint hiss of air as he reaches up on instinct and unfastens his helmet. He tastes the air for a second and he remembers the faint whiff of cigars, the sharp scent of sulfur from the lighter. He shakes his head again and gets to his feet, pushing out of the Viper and moving down the steps. Chief is standing there, waiting for him, watching him with eyes that see more than Lee's comfortable with. Eyes he's pretty sure he's going to have to get used to.

"Take care of her, Chief." He means the bird and they both know it, but Lee's voice breaks just the same.

"You know, Major, you could go out through B corridor to get to your barracks. Less traffic that way."

"Right." Lee nods and stumbles in the direction Chief points him, sleepwalking his way to the exit. It's dimly lit and what he needs right now, darkness hemming him in. His steps are heavy, weighted down with the flash of light that keeps playing behind his eyes, the strange echoes of her words. Words that don't make any sense, that don't mean anything. Words that, for whatever else they were, weren't goodbye and weren't I love you.

He's almost to his quarters when it hits him, his knees sagging with the strain of remaining upright, his breath gone, nearly collapsing under the weight of grief. He catches the wall for support and presses his fist to his stomach, sucking in air that doesn't seem to quite make it to his lungs. It burns like the tears that blur the constant replay of her ship going super-nova, can't quite touch the hard jerk of pain that rips at his heart every time.

"It's true then."

Lee doesn't bother to follow the voice. He just slides down the bulkhead and rests his forehead against his knees. He feels him get closer, senses him sliding down across from him. This shouldn't be his job. This shouldn't be his responsibility. Even if he's CAG, even if he is…was her wingman, this isn't what he's supposed to do. He doesn't know how to do it. Death is part of being a soldier, death is part of their lives.

But Sam's not a soldier.

"Yeah," Lee manages, forcing the word out on a breath he's not sure he can afford. He looks up and meets Sam's eyes. "Yeah. It's true."

Sam nods and closes his eyes, grief written across his face. Lee envies him in that moment, envies that bold, bare expression so plain and vivid. "It can't be true."

"I'm sorry, Sam, but…"

"It's not frakking true!" Sam's shout echoes through the corridor and Lee closes his eyes in the wake of it. "Not Kara. Not my Kara."

Lee exhales and turns his head, away from the naked wash of emotion. He waits for the silence and then exhales again, shakier this time. Everything feels tenuous right now, off kilter and out of sorts. He feels like gravity has shifted and his center of balance is gone, equilibrium shattered in a burst of light and metal.

"She's gone."

"You did this. You frakking did this." Sam's on his feet before Lee can react, before he can protect himself from the hard kick to the ribs. "You made her want to fly. You pushed her. You were supposed to keep her safe."

"Nobody made Kara do anything, Sam." It's strange to talk about her in the past tense, and he remembers that it took him a month before he could do it with Zak. Maybe it's different now, maybe he's been trying to hard to put her out of his life…

I guess that's all we're going to be now.

"I loved her too." Sam stops moving, stops breathing. Silence hits Lee again, and he closes his eyes. Dying must be easy, he thinks, if living with it is this frakking hard. "I loved her too."

He doesn't open his eyes again for a long time, and when he does, Sam is gone and the sound of the ship is back. Lee forces himself to his feet, to his quarters. There's nothing to remind him of her here, no ghosts or memories.

Nothing except the starburst of light that refuses to fade behind his eyes.