The room is silent and empty except for the two people studiously avoiding each other. As he takes another step inside, he can hear the snick of Lee's jump rope as it hits the metal floor, can hear Kara's exhalation of breath as she lifts the bar one more time. He watches them both as he walks toward the back of the room to set his bag down, to lace on his gloves. He's sparred with both of them - Lee most recently - but Kara's the closest thing he ever had to a best friend, and now she can't even look at him.

He laces up his gloves and watches her, knowing she's moving too much weight, pushing herself too hard. She needs to have a spotter, but there's no way she'd take help from Helo, and no way the Commander would offer it. He shakes his head and punches his gloved hands together and wishes like hell they'd never found that gods-damned planet.

Again.

He moves up to the bag and starts his workout, keeping an eye on the other occupants from the corner of his eye. Lee's in his zone, the count in his head increasing. Kara's starting to struggle. He can see the quiver in the muscles of her arms as she lifts the bar. It tilts slightly and it takes everything he's got not to step toward her, reach for it, but she gets it back on the rack and sits up.

Her newly shorn hair clings to her head and her skin is shining with sweat. Karl glances toward Lee and sees the slight flicker in his gaze toward Starbuck. There's a frakload of stuff between them, and Helo doesn't want to get caught in the crossfire. He's pretty sure the Commander's still in love with her, and she couldn't care less, and what kills Karl the most is that it's probably always been that way. Probably always will.

Kara runs a towel over her head and over her neck and then stands up. She ignores Lee completely and glances at Karl, rubbing the back of her hand over her forehead. "You need someone to fight?"

"I need a sparring partner. I'm not looking to fight."

She swallows and rakes her fingers through her hair. Helo sees Lee's eyes go to the dark tattoo that marks Kara's skin. "What do you and I have to fight about?"

Helo hits the bag harder than he intends and the sound causes Lee to miss a stride. "Dunno, Kara. I stayed. You went. I sat around on my ass up here. You were held prisoner down there. I'm married to a Cylon. You're married to…are you still married?"

"You son of a…" She starts toward Helo, stopped suddenly by a hand on her bicep, the skin around Lee's grip going white. She turns and looks at Lee, and Helo sees something flash, and isn't sure even he can read what it is. "Let me go. Sir."

"You're already off flight status, Thrace." "Anders."

Lee's jaw tightens. "Anders. You want to end up in the brig? Haven't you had enough of bars to last you a lifetime?"

She jerks away from Lee's grip and stares down at the marks on her arm from his fingers, the way they lay across her tattoo. "Bars aren't the only thing I've had enough of, Commander."

"Yeah," Lee bites the word out and, Helo can almost feel the snarling sink of teeth that seems to accompany it. "I know what you mean."

Helo sets the bottle down in front of Lee and then sinks into the seat next to him. There's too much to do and too many people to do it, and it's still not getting done, and Helo's tired. Tired of dodging people, tired of the sidelong looks. He cracks open the bottle and pours a drink in Lee's empty glass.

"Hell of a thing, sir."

"I'll drink to that." Lee empties the glass in one long swallow. He shudders as it burns down his throat and then slams the empty back on the table beside the bottle. "You ever been in love, Helo? Besides Sharon?"

"Had a girlfriend or two, sir. A few frakbuddies."

"Not what I asked."

"No, sir."

"But Sharon. You love her."

His voice is guarded. "Yes, sir."

"How does it feel?"

Karl opens his mouth and then closes it. "Sir?"

"How does it feel?" Lee picks up the bottle and pours himself another shot, downing it as quickly and easily as the last. "Being in love. Is it easy? Comfortable? Is it sitting down at night and talking about work or talking about nothing and then falling asleep? Is it wanting to hit them as often and as hard as you want to kiss them? How does it feel?"

"It feels…like love, sir. You're married."

"And the two are interchangeable?" Lee looks up at Karl and smiles, and there's something melancholy in it. "They are, aren't they? For you?"

"You love Dee, sir."

"Yeah." Lee nods and then shakes his head, getting to his feet. "I love Dee." He's mostly steady and Karl wonders how many shots Lee had thrown back before Karl had hit the room. "Goodnight, Captain."

Nothing's private on a Battlestar, especially not a secret. So when people spy Anders and Dualla sitting at a table together, it's practically on the wireless before you can blink. The Admiral's tight-lipped, though Karl can see his eyes flicker over to Dee from time to time. Karl's heard people talking, and suddenly the Lee and Kara story is all over the ship again, like an update for people tuning in late. He knows what started it, knows Sam must have asked a question and everything unraveled from there, but it's not the story that worries Karl so much as the ending.

Speculation had been hot and heavy since Starbuck headed planet side, and it's picked up again now that she's back on board and back in the cockpit…or was, for whatever short period of time she lasted. Karl watches her lift the bar, her muscles rigid and tense.

"You're going to hurt yourself."

"Frak off, Agathon."

"Yeah, well, you think I don't hear that every day. Come on, 'buck. You can be more inventive than that. Toaster-lover? Spark plugger? Come on."

"Frak off."

He walks over and wraps his hands around the bar and holds it, the knuckles of both their hands white as he presses down and she pushes up and they hold the bar in limbo. "You were my best frakkin' friend."

"Yeah, well, you'll notice things have changed a little bit lately. Up until a week or two ago, the last time any of us saw your wife, she was at the other end of a frakkin' death list."

"That's not my wife."

"Really? Sure frakkin' looks like her."

"Just because you've frakked up your own marriage and…" He shuts his mouth immediately, knowing he's about to go too far. Kara's eyes narrow, and he keeps holding her gaze, even though he knows she knows it too.

"And what?" He releases the bar, stepping back just enough to allow her to set the bar on its rack. Her arms are shaking as she gets to her feet, faces him. "And what, Helo?"

"If you love him, you owe him to work it out."

"I never said I loved Lee."

"Yeah, well, I never said I was talking about Lee."

Helo's pretty sure there's a reason more people don't get into fights in the gym. First off, they're working out all their aggression in other ways - at least in theory - and chances are, if they're two guys, the last thing they want to do is be going at each other half-naked and sweaty, no matter what Racetrack says the girls want to see. But the problem is, as it always is, Apollo and Starbuck aren't like everyone else

First off, they've both got enough aggression in them that spending the entire day in the gym every day isn't enough to burn it off or even tamp it down. And secondly, half-naked, sweaty bodies are part of their problem.

The gym's deserted when he gets there, and it's almost a relief, but the fact that it's deserted tells him unequivocally that Lee and Kara have been here recently, so he heads toward the shower. Halfway there he sees a smear of blood on the wall and curses under his breath, the sound stopped half way and choking him at the sight of a set of tanks and a trail of discarded clothing.

There's more blood further on, a large stain of it on the floor, spreading out in a slick puddle. It's bright red, so he knows he's not too far behind them. The water's going and steam is billowing out of the room, but Karl's not sure if he should look. Not sure if he's going to find one of them dead, both of them hurt, or something he thinks might even be worse.

Lee's sitting in the shower alone, a dark bruise already blossoming on his shoulder. His head is tilted back and the water seems to have washed away most of the blood. "You all right, Apollo?"

He lifts his head and smiles, and Karl flinches. Lee's lip is split and bleeding and one eye is swollen and puffy. "You should see the other guy."

"Yeah? Where is she?"

He drops his head back again and half-laughs, the sound rough with water. "Don't be ridiculous, Helo. Wouldn't be Kara if she stuck around for the aftermath."

He doesn't know why he's doing this. He's got enough on his own plate without spooning some of their gods-damned angst on it as a topping, but he's pretty sure they're going to explode if they're not careful, and he'd really rather not see the Battlestar go up in flames with them.

Kara doesn't hide. She's in your face and balls to the wall, but that was when she was the Admiral's favorite, and Helo's pretty sure she's not that any more. It's probably the best thing that could happen to Kara - give her preferential treatment and she feels like she's entitled to it - but it's got to sting. So now he's not sure where he's going to frakking find her, but he's got to look. If Lee's any indication, she's hurt.

And, even worse, she's hurting.

It's the Chief who suggests the torpedo launch deck, and he noses around empty husks until he finds her sitting just inside the launch doors. Her back's against the seal, and her eyes are closed. Lee wasn't kidding. He gave as good as he got, maybe better, but Kara's still Kara.

He sits beside her and blows out a sigh. "You know, it's a damn good thing we don't have a war going on or anything."

"No one asked you to come here."

"No. No one did. But if I didn't, no one else would."

"And, let me guess, I only have myself to blame."

He stares at his hands for a long moment then turns his head to look at her. "Yeah, Kara. You do."

"Nobody asked for your frakkin' input, Helo."

He shifts and his arm brushes hers. "No. No one did. You gave Lee a hell of a shiner."

"Yeah, well, no one deserves having the frak beat out of him like the Commander."

"Major."

Her eyes shift up for a second then back down. There's a slight smile that curls her lips, but there's no humor in it at all. "Major."

"Landed a few blows of his own from the looks of it."

She runs her hand across her nose, the smallest hint of residual blood staining her pale skin. "Yeah, well, he got lucky."

"So it seems."

"Ah." She nods once and stretches out her leg. He can see the leather holster strapped to her leg, knows how sharp the knife she carries is. Sometimes it worries him. "Is this where I get the speech about marriage vows and the sanctity of love? Are you going to lecture me now, Helo? Tell me about how loving Sharon has changed your life, how everything's frakkin' food of the Gods? Because the way I see it, if marriage is Utopia? You're frakkin' doing it wrong."

"You're not even doing it at all." He bumps his head against the doors, feels the flash of pain. "You're just giving up." He gets to his feet and looks down at her. "Guess your last name wasn't the only thing that changed down there on that rock."

"Frak you." She's on her feet in a flash, eyes bright and teeth bared. "You don't know what the frak went on down there. You don't know what a single one of us frakking went through. You were up here in your gods-damned safe ship and…"

He grabs her and shoves her hard against the doors, hard enough that the impact makes the metal ring. "And half the people we loved were down there. Maybe you didn't give a frak about any of us you left behind but we didn't forget you for a frakkin' second. So before you get so caught up in your own pain, think about someone else for a Gods-damned minute."

"You…"

"Think about the Admiral, Kara. His daughter, his best friend. Hell, Roslin, whatever she is to him. All of you down there, and he doesn't know what the frak is happening to you. And he had to leave you to save you. You think that doesn't eat at his gut?"

"Yeah, well, heard the opposite happened to the Co…Major."

"What happened to the Major had frak all to do with us leaving New Caprica's orbit, and you frakkin' know it. Hell, you're the only one who frakkin' knows it for sure." He shakes his head and tucks his hands behind his back where he knows they'll stay put, stay safe. He lets his gaze move over her, gauging bruises. "Glad to know you're in one piece, sir. I'm sure the last thing the Admiral needs on his plate is his highest ranking officer in the brig."

"It's not so frakking easy, you know. You guys don't know what we lived through."

"Just because we didn't go through it, Kara, doesn't mean we can't understand, can't sympathize. But just because you're the only one that's bleeding, doesn't mean you're the only one that's hurt."

He stays away from the gym for three days, enough time for the bruises to turn green and the blood to be washed away. He doesn't want to know what - if anything - happened in those showers other than punches that hit exactly where they were supposed to, sharp words all below the belt. He thinks it's better if no one knows, if Starbuck and Apollo are themselves and keep everyone guessing, wondering - including themselves.

But the air in the gym is different when he walks in and the frost that seems to cool the sweat on his skin the minute it beads is warmer. Nothing's changed, but everything has and there's a palpable relief on the ship, like a bomb's been defused or, if it went off, nobody got hurt.

Lee's at the bench press and Kara's at the bag, and Karl hesitates for a minute. It's a fragile alliance he has with them both, and tipping the scales now, just as things are easing, might make it worse all together. Still, one needs a spotter and the other needs someone to hold the bag. He's about to say something when Anders walks in the room.

He's been watching Lee for long enough that he knows his reactions, so the slight jerk of his muscles isn't too surprising. Nor is the quick glance he flickers upwards, toward Kara. Helo realizes in that instant that she makes or breaks them with this moment. Her allegiance is sworn to her husband or her CAG, and Lee's never been just her CAG.

Something happened in the showers, he knows that. He's known it. Something happened before Kara left and broke Lee, and Helo's not sure if it's ready to be stripped for parts or if it's worth repairing. He wonders if he should have decided that before he ever opened his mouth.

Kara looks at Sam. "You came back."

"I just want to use the gym."

She backs away from the bag, arms up in the air. "It's all yours. If you want it."

Lee closes his eyes and sets the bar in the rack. He sits up, his back to Kara, his spine as straight as the steel rod Kara always joked was up his ass. Karl tosses his bag on the bench to break the silence and tugs off his tanks to start his work out. He's done what he can. Chief told him once that you can't fix a bird that doesn't want to fly any more.

Sam's voice is low, rough with emotion. "Need someone to spot the bag."

Lee gets up and snags his towel, draping it around his neck. He walks out of the gym before Kara has a chance to answer, but maybe that's for the best, or maybe he just already knows. Either way, Helo's pretty sure the result's the same. Kara moves up to the bag and holds it, her eyes locked on Anders's for a moment before flickering to Helo's. There's an apology in them and he nods his acknowledgement. It's a step, he supposes, even if the apology doesn't belong to him.