"Major?"

His head snaps up and he looks at Dee, offering her a smile that she doesn't quite accept. Her eyes are cool when he looks in them now, knowing and sharp. "Yes, Lieutenant?"

"The information you wanted is coming over the wireless." He moves over beside her, wondering when her standing beside him became something that hurt instead of something that gives him strength. He wants to blame Kara - it would be so easy - but he's sure it's something that's inside him, and that hurts more than anything else.

He gathers the information, getting Dee's input on things as she collates it easily. She's brisk and efficient, and runs their mission and their lives like there aren't any questions. Dee sees right and wrong and black and white, and he wonders if she's ever felt anything that falls in the between areas. He thinks about Billy for a moment and opens his mouth, snapping it shut before anything that sounds like accusation can pass his lips.

Someone once said that people in glass houses shouldn't throw stones. He holds his tongue, unwilling to watch his life shatter.

Lee lies on his cot and shifts in the heat. The air is stifling and he feels like Galactica is in the atmosphere, pressing down on his chest. He shifts again and turns his head, watching Dee stare up at the ceiling of their tent. Her skin shimmers in the dim light and he remembers the feel and taste of it, remembers when all he wanted - all he thought he could have - was to lose himself in the feel of her skin.

"Dee?"

"It's late, Lee."

He knows she means it's too late, but she's going to make him take every step. This is his choice, his decision. He knows he should tell her the truth, say it in words instead of the actions he sees reflected in her eyes. But saying it makes it real and, as real as it feels when he has Kara in his arms, he knows that it's ephemeral and insubstantial. He's been here before, so close to Kara he can taste her, but every time it's burned up to smoke and ashes on his tongue, his fingers singed.

He watches her close her eyes and turn away from him, memorizes the line of her back and the curve of her shoulder, the sweep of her neck. He knows her by heart, and he does love her.

And he knows there's no way he can tell her, no words he can say, that will make her believe it.

The Raptor is even hotter than outside, baking them like an oven, ratcheting up the heat until Lee can feel it burning in his lungs. He masks the feel with Kara's skin and mouth, her hands and her breath. He's hungry and desperate for her, needing her to be all the things he desires, all the things he's always wanted.

He knows better, knows her well enough to know it can't be easy. It's never easy, no matter how much he wants, no matter what he needs. He begs her for permission she has no right to grant, and that he has no right to ask. She offers him words and promises that don't sound like "I love you" or "Always" or longer than "Right here, right now." He sinks back, gutted and breathless from something more than kisses, and stares at her, unseeing.

Her words wash over him, and he can't process them, can't see anything but the pulse of her blood beating at the base of her neck. He watches it absently, reaching up to trace it on his own skin as she pushes him away with theology and belief and anything that keeps him at arm's reach, keeps her from being his.

He stares at her and swallows, and then shakes his head. He's survived the end of the colonies, but his own world keeps crumbling, falling apart in blood and sweat and emotions, gutting him. He has everything to lose and nothing to gain, and she smiles at him like she's offered him a chance at everything. It's smoke again, blinding him and making his eyes sting until he can't see a thing.

Dee's smile fades as Lee walks into the hut, the shine in her eyes fading at the sight of him. He feels like he's branded, unsure he wants to know what's tattooed across his skin. He looks down at his hands, at his wedding ring and thinks about what it means. He made a promise, made a vow. He remembers the words they spoke in front of his father, remembers that he meant them that day.

Looking at her now, he knows that, no matter what Kara does, he and Dee are done. Even if their marriage goes on, even if they stay together, whatever they had is laid out on an altar, sacrificed to whatever it is that Kara offers him, and he knows that it's not enough, not worth it. There aren't any guarantees at the end of the world, Lee knows, but he wishes he'd known that it would be this hard, hurt so deep, cost so much.

"What's the sitrep, Lieutenant?"

"You tell me, Major." Her voice is low and her eyes are dark, void of respect and emotion.

He looks her in the eye and he wishes he could let her go, wishes he could tell her that she deserves better. He wishes he were a stronger man, a better one. He wishes he'd never met Kara Thrace, never loved Kara Anders. He wishes he could say the words and cut her free. It would be sharp and quick and painful, but the wound would be clean, the wound would heal. Instead, everything festers.

"No change."

"Exactly what I expected." Dee nods and the smile she gives him cuts deep enough to bleed. She sketches him a salute. "Sir."