"Dim lights" He said as he got hurriedly out of bed. The voice activated computer programme brought the lights up slowly. Adama shrugged into his robe as the door buzzer went again.

"Open"

The door slid aside.

"Apollo?" Adama asked as a tall figure hesitated in the door way, outlined against the much brighter corridor lighting.

"No, it's me. Starbuck."

"Starbuck? What the hell are you doing here?" Adama's heart thumped. "Is Apollo all right?"

"He's fine," Starbuck said hastily, realising he'd worried the Commander. "Well, he's blind drunk but I got him to bed and he's sleeping it off. Can I come in?"

Adama sighed. "Yes, you'd better." He walked heavily over to the seating and waved Starbuck into a chair. "You're sure he's all right?"

"He's sound asleep. It's more than I will be tonight." Starbuck looked at Adama, and the Commander could see the unmistakable signs of tears.

"He told you then" Adama said, and sighed in relief. "Thank God. I hoped he would. I wanted you to know."

"It nearly broke my heart," Starbuck said.

"It did break mine."

"Look, I don't want to leave him too long on his own. But I wanted to talk to you." Starbuck looked at the Commander helplessly. "I don't really know what to do to help him."

"I'll come back with you. We'll talk there."

Adama got to his feet and they walked, in silence, to his son's quarters.

Apollo's quarters were dimly lit. Starbuck had left the door to Apollo's bedroom open, and Adama went through quickly to check on his son. Apollo was lying very still, his face relaxed in deep sleep Adama gently brushed back the hair that had fallen over Apollo's face, bent down to kiss him, and then sighed. He went back into the living area.

He gestured towards the ambrosa. "Is there any of that left?"

"Some. Most of it's in Apollo." Starbuck managed a pained smile and went to get the Commander a glass.

"Is he drinking that much?" Adama asked, dreading the thought that his son was coping only with alcohol.

"No." Starbuck hastened to reassure him "He really doesn't drink much at all. He's got no head for alcohol. But tonight I think he needed some extra courage to tell me, then something to drown all the memories afterwards."

Adama nodded. "I'm glad he told you. He needs you."

"But I don't know what to do" Starbuck said, handing Adama the ambrosa. "I don't want to believe its all true. I can't bear to think of that happening to Apollo."

"Oh, its all too true. How much did he tell you."

Starbuck took a deep breath. "Everything, I think. About running away from home and selling himself, and Todd raping him and prostituting him."

"That seems to cover it," Adama acknowledged. He sighed heavily. "Did he tell you why he ran away?"

"Just that he was feeling a bit neglected and bullied at school, and was fed up with having to be responsible for Zac and Thenie all the time." Starbuck said awkwardly, not wanting to embarrass the Commander.

"I think we forgot how young he really was. Ila always blamed herself for asking too much of Apollo, almost expecting him to fill in for me. He was just a child and she thought later that she'd loaded him with too much responsibility for the younger ones. We hadn't realised either that he was unhappy at school. All we noticed was the poor reports of his school work and his behaviour, and he was increasingly rude and difficult at home. He and Ila had had a massive row a few days before he went, over nothing at all really, and I made things much worse by sending him a rocket about how disappointed I was and he could forget the new bike I'd promised him for Yule. I told him he didn't deserve it and that when I got home he and I were going to have words."

"Oh," was all that Starbuck thought it was safe to say.

"Except he wasn't there for Yule. He disappeared the day he got my letter." Adama glanced through at his son. "I don't think I'll ever forget the call I got from Ila. She was almost hysterical. It took me two days to get home. I don't ever want to live through anything like that again or the sectars that followed. We spent all the time we could looking for him, pushing the police to do something more active. It was a terrible, terrible time. To be honest, Starbuck, I'd have coped with it better if I'd been called home because he'd died. It would have broken my heart, but at least we'd have known. It was not knowing that almost killed us. Not knowing if he was alive or dead."

"Yeah," Starbuck said, still awkward.

"He'd been missing over six sectars when we got the call from the police. We'd given up, almost, sure that he was dead. We couldn't believe he was alive, that we were getting him back. I don't think I breathed once in the trip to hospital, and when we got there..." Adama paused, shook his head at the memories. "He was in an appalling state. In life support, black and blue from a ferocious beating, critically ill with meningitis and with a pretty poor chance of surviving. He was a beautiful child, strong and so graceful, and.." He broke off again, looked through to the sleeping man beyond the sliding doors. "What I saw in that hospital bed was some pitifully thin travesty of my son. He looked so small and helpless. He looked so...so maimed. When they told us what had happened to him, I thought I'd die."

"I know," Starbuck said moodily. "I wanted to be sick, I was so angry and hurt and.. and I don't know what."

He went across to the door of the bedroom. For a centon he looked down at Apollo, then bent down to hug him fiercely. When Starbuck rejoined him, Adama put a hand on the younger man's arm and smiled at him comfortingly.

"We almost lost him again, Starbuck. He was desperately ill for days with viral meningitis, and when he developed pneumonia as well, we didn't think he'd live. It was a secton before he was conscious. Ila and I stayed with him at the hospital, night and day. He took sectars to recover and he was never the same afterwards." Adama smiled slightly. "He'd been such a noisy, energetic child. In fact, pretty much like what I imagine you were. But after this, he was never like that again. He was quiet and subdued, shy, remote and withdrawn, wary. Damaged. He lives behind some pretty dense barriers."

"I'd be psychotic," Starbuck said honestly.

"Well, we ended up there," Adama said, determined to be honest with Starbuck. "When he had to talk to the police and we found out the whole story, he got very withdrawn and didn't like us to touch him. He thought we were mad with him, that he disgusted us. He wouldn't eat or talk, and spent all of his time curled up on his bed. Even with trained psychiatrists, it took sectons for us to reach him. It took me sectars to convince him that we loved him just as much as before and that nothing could ever change that, and just as we were getting through to him, Todd's trial came up and we went through it all again. Dreadful time."

"He had a breakdown?" Starbuck asked gruffly, voicing the word Adama couldn't bring himself to say.

Adama nodded. "Of a sort, I suppose" he said unwillingly.

"So we've got to catch this bastard, before he pushes Pol into another one. That's what he's trying to do."

"I think so too," Adama agreed.

"You've given up on that daft notion of it being Pol himself?"

"He'd never hurt you, Starbuck. We both know that."

Starbuck nodded and stared moodily through to Apollo. "So all this must have happened just before I met him."

"Yes. He was ill for a long time. When he went to Caprica Secondary, that was his first return to school in two yahrens. He just wasn't well enough before then."

Starbuck thought back to the first time he'd seen Apollo, a tall, quiet, shy boy who'd joined the class part way through a term. The only free seat was next to Starbuck, who was always parked in the hated front row desk where the teacher could keep a firm eye on him. At first Starbuck had thought that the quiet and silence was a mask for someone who thought himself too grand to associate with lesser mortals whose fathers didn't command Battlestars, or, in his case, didn't have a father at all. They couldn't have been more unalike. Starbuck made friends easily, was popular and charming, always the centre of an admiring crowd. Apollo was a bit of an outsider, serious, studious, at first seemingly immune to Starbuck's charm. Piqued, Starbuck had seen him as a challenge, to be won over. It had taken quite a while for Starbuck to worm his way through the barriers to the real Apollo, and find Pol, who'd become his family, his best friend, his lover, his world.

"So, what do I do, sir? How do I help him?"

Adama made a helpless gesture with both hands. "Just do what you're doing. Don't let it make any difference to how you feel about him or how you treat him."

"It can't" Starbuck said, and Adama smiled, reassured.

"If I didn't say it before, Starbuck, I'll say it now. I used to have grave doubts about you, but you're really very good for Apollo. Very good indeed."

"I love him," Starbuck said, simply. "But I'm worried about him too. All this is stirring up how he feels about what happened and about himself, and none of those feelings are what I'd call positive."

"I know. Like I said, it took me a long, long time - yahrens, I think, really - to convince him that him no-one blamed him or thought any the worse of him, but I don't think he ever really stopped despising himself or blaming himself. Quite common with abused children, but not much comfort to know that, for either of us."

"And the longer this goes on, the worse it'll be for him."

"I'd feel a lot better if he'd only let it out sometimes but he always did bottle everything up." Adama sighed.

"But he did break down tonight, at the end." Starbuck said.

He'd been pretty distraught himself, and to begin with could only hold Apollo and cry with him. It had taken him a long time to comfort Apollo, and for the terrible wrenching sobs to stop. Once he'd regained control, Apollo hadn't wanted to talk any more. He'd listened to Starbuck as he'd tried to reassure him, but had drunk steadily and silently until he'd passed out and Starbuck could get him to bed.

"Did he?" Adama brightened. "That's good. That's very good. That's what he needs."

"What he needs is for this bastard to be caught. And I'm going to move heaven and hell to do that."

Adama smiled. "You and me both, Starbuck. You and me, both."

***

"Come on, Pol. Rise and shine!"

Apollo grunted and turned over, pulling the quilt up over his head.

Starbuck shook his head sadly. "You have to understand, Pol, that this hurts me more than it hurts you. I'm only doing this for your own good."

He gently eased back the quilt and took the dripping sponge from the bowl.

"Last chance," he said

No response.

"Oh, but I'm going to enjoy this! Boy, is it going to make up for all those mornings when you threw me out into the uncaring cold."

Apollo opened one eye. "You use that sponge and you're a dead man, Lieutenant."

The rather glassy green eye closed again.

Starbuck stared in surprise, then carefully replaced the sponge. "How did you do that? Thirty microns ago you were in a coma."

"I still am in a coma. I *like* being in a coma."

"You are absolutely no fun at all." Starbuck complained. "I can't think why I love you."

There was a short silence.

"Neither can I," Apollo said in a muffled tone.

Starbuck didn't hesitate. The bowl and sponge went flying as he pulled Apollo up into his arms. "But I do, Pol," he said firmly. "And if I get any more of that crap out of you, you get the sponge, okay?"

He kissed Apollo with a savagery that surprised them both, but left the Captain in no doubt about Starbuck's complete sincerity.

"Okay," said Apollo shyly, when he could draw breath, but he wasn't looking at Starbuck..

"And you can stop that too." Starbuck knew Apollo all too well and knew what that shyness was about. He didn't want an abject, grateful Apollo who would be hell to live with. He had to convince Apollo somehow that it made no difference. "I *hate* it when you start playing martyr. I told you last night that it made no difference to me, and the only way I know to prove it is to shag you blind this morning. You on?"

Apollo grinned at that, looked at Starbuck properly.

"You could try persuading me," he suggested, suddenly feeling curiously light hearted. He'd been almost afraid to look Starbuck in the face, but that so-typical little speech, outwardly so insouciant and careless, so much love underneath, reassured him more than any serious discussion could.

"I will - as soon as we've sorted you out. You may be my one and only love, Pol, but you taste absolutely foul. Hung over, unless I miss my guess?"

The green eyes staring into his were still decidedly glassy, wincing against the light. Starbuck didn't need an answer.

"Don't nod. Your head will probably fall off. Okay. You spiked plan A. Time to move to Plan B. Here you are." Starbuck released Apollo after another quick peck and picked up a glass from the night table. It was full of a thick orange liquid.

"Oh no, I'll stick with the hangover. I've had that stuff before."

"And you know it works. Drink it, Pol. Then we'll clean you up and you can come back to bed and I can remind you what fun is."

"No I can't. I'm due on duty in..." Apollo focused on the alarm with difficulty, then sat bolt upright in panic. "Starbuck, it's nine thirty!"

"I know," Starbuck said, serenely. "Stop panicking. You've got the day off."

"Day off?" repeated Apollo in bewilderment.

"Yeah. I went and got your Dad last night, and he took one look at you and decided that what you needed was a day in bed with your favourite lover. He didn't put it quite like that, you understand, him being a real gentleman and all, and he said to tell you that he wouldn't normally condone drunkenness on the part of his senior officers, but that's what he meant. Boomer and Jolly have this shift, and Boomer's enjoying the crazed feeling of power. So drink up, sweetheart, and then you'll feel better."

"I'll throw up. I always do with that stuff."

"That's the point, Pol. It gets rid of all that stale ambrosa in your stomach and leaves you capable of starting all over again."

Apollo looked dubiously at the glass in Starbuck's hand. "I wish you'd tell me what's in it."

"Trade secret." Starbuck really didn't want to gross out Apollo more than was strictly necessary. "But it works every time. Open wide."

"I'll drink it myself." Apollo said hastily. It wasn't often he got drunk, but he had vivid memories of the last time when a relentless Starbuck had sat on his chest, held his nose and literally poured the concoction down his throat. He didn't want to dwell on the unpleasant consequences. He took the glass and sipped at the contents gingerly. It tasted disgusting, and he said so.

"Of course it does," Starbuck said cheerfully. "That's how you know it's doing you good. All down, Pol."

"Are you sure it's Boomer who's power crazed here?" Apollo grumbled, but did as he was told. He knew he'd throw up and five centons later feel wonderful. The stuff was horrible, but it really did work. He took a deep breath, and downed the liquid in one. "Oh God, that's foul."

Starbuck took the glass. "That'll be the raw eggs," he said wickedly. "Gosh, Pol. I've never seen you quite that colour before. Matches your eyes."

Apollo just groaned, and threw back the covers. Starbuck smiled to himself as Apollo bolted for the turboflush.

"Works every time," he said, in satisfaction, and followed his love at a more leisurely pace.

He grinned evilly at the distressing scene in front of him, and went to start the shower running. By the time Apollo was finished, Starbuck, leaning casually against the wall and watching with interest, had everything ready.

"That's a very unedifying sight," he said and went to help Apollo up. "Just as well the child's not here to be scandalised."

Apollo glowered, pale faced and sweaty. With Starbuck's support he staggered over to the basin to rinse his mouth and clean his teeth to get rid of the foul taste. And, incidentally, be more kissable when he felt a bit better, always assuming that Starbuck felt so inclined.

"Shower." Starbuck suggested.

Apollo nodded dumbly and let Starbuck take him into the shower cubicle. For a few centons he leaned up against the wall under the warm, delicately scented spray, eyes closed, as the warmth and Starbuck's hands helped him feel human again.

"Better?"

"Much," Apollo opened his eyes and looked at Starbuck. The blond hair was plastered down with water, making Starbuck look unusually sleek. Apollo thought he was beautiful. He raised one hand to the Lieutenant's cheek, sought reassurance for the last time. "You sure?"

Starbuck grinned back. He knew what Apollo was asking. "Never been surer. Love you to death, Pol. That's all that matters."

Apollo sighed and relaxed at last. "I'm a very lucky man."

"And that's something I've been telling you for sectars. Yahrens, even." Starbuck snuggled in close, his soapy hands moving in long slow circles on Apollo's back. "And I'm willing to go into constant reassurance mode if it means that this ridiculous separation you imposed on me is over."

"It's over. It was just that I was trying to avoid telling you about Todd."

"I know. Still now I know, and later on today we'll plan on how we're going to nail that bastard to the floor."

"I hope we get the chance."

"We will. But I need some reassurance, too, Pol. I want to make love to you, you know that. But not if it upsets you, or reminds you too much.. when you're ready, and not before."

Apollo pressed a hand against Starbuck's cheek. "Am I the only person in the world to know you, Starbuck? Most people out there would never believe how sensitive and caring you are."

"Well, don't tell 'em," said Starbuck, alarmed. "I have a reputation to protect."

"Undeserved. Don't worry, Star. Making love with you was never a problem. It couldn't ever upset me. I love you. It's all right."

Starbuck frowned. "Drink affected your memory?"

"Don't think so. Why?"

"I was sure I'd explained to you last night that sex with me is a helluva lot better than all right."

"Maybe I need a demonstration," Apollo suggested helpfully. "To help me remember. It's been a few days."

"No brain, some people. So, I'm feeling very horny, you're feeling all right, we have the whole day ahead of us, thanks to your amazingly understanding Dad: when do you think you'll be feeling well enough for some very hot sex?"

Apollo laughed. "I thought that Salik told you to avoid excitement?"

"Medics don't know everything." Starbuck kissed him, then drew back, grinning. "What do you think this soap tastes like?"

"As enticing as that crap you made me drink, I should think."

"Worked, didn't it? I was thinking about licking you from head to toe, but, of course, concentrating my attentions somewhere about here..."

Apollo jumped and grinned as one of Starbuck's hands enclosed his hardening prick, the other sliding down between his buttocks to tease him.

"But not if it tastes all icky." Starbuck removed one hand despite Apollo's protests and switched the shower to rinse. "I'll make do with drying you off under here as usual."

Apollo hooked one hand around Starbuck's neck and pulled him closer, under the jet, fastening onto Starbuck's mouth like a leech. The kiss left them both breathless.

"Let's just pass on the drying off," Apollo said when they surfaced. With one hand he hit the shower controls and turned it off. The other was more intimately engaged with portions of the Lieutenant's anatomy.

They almost fell out of the shower, kissing madly like a pair of kids, not letting each other go. Somehow they ended up half way across the bathroom. Too fraught to think about making it to the bedroom, Starbuck pushed Apollo back until the Captain half-fell, half sat on the turboflush, and sat astride him. For a micron he pulled back and looked into Apollo's eyes.

"I love you very much, you know. More than I could ever have imagined." He cupped Apollo's face with his hands, his thumbs gently tracing the line of Apollo's mouth. "Come inside me, Pol, please. I want to feel you inside me."

"Here?" Apollo's hands were enthusiastically pumping Starbuck's prick, his own pressed up hard into Starbuck's belly.

"Right this micron," Starbuck said. He kissed Apollo once, then let his mouth trail down the side of his lover's neck. He bit gently, grinning when Apollo moaned. "Hold still a centon..."

Standing and stretching he could just reach the medicine cupboard and the tube of lube that should be stashed there. Apollo took what Starbuck considered to be unfair advantage, getting a hand in between his legs and his still-wet fingers into places that had Starbuck moaning wordlessly.

"Shit, Pol, that feels amazing," he said, bouncing up and down a little on Apollo's hand , trying to get those teasing fingers in even further.

Apollo grinned at him. "You look ridiculous. Like a frog, or something."

"Sex is a ridiculous pastime, when you come to think of it. Thank God we have a sense of humour about it." Starbuck continued his little bounces, getting one hand behind Apollo's neck to tug at his wet hair until Apollo tilted his head back enough for Starbuck to have a serious go at his throat.

Apollo purred. Keeping one hand at the task of stretching Starbuck and the other at playing with Starbuck's prick and balls, he gave himself up to the sensation of his lover's hands on him, his lover's mouth at his throat and neck.

Starbuck coated Apollo's prick with lube. "Now," he said, and half stood.

He settled back down again, this time with the blunt head of Apollo's prick pressing against his opening. Bracing himself against the familiar sharp pain, he rose and fell again, gasping as Apollo breached the tight anal ring.

"Oh Lord. You feel so good." He rose and dropped again, never quite allowing Apollo to leave him entirely, taking a little bit more of Apollo each time, on each thrust. He had his hands on Apollo's shoulders for balance, watching his lover's face flush with passion and desire. Apollo's hands on his waist felt hot, demanding.

"I love you," Apollo said softly, as Starbuck took all of him. "I love you, Star."

Starbuck, revelling in the feeling of having Apollo in him to the hilt, paused and looked at him. He leaned down to run his hot tongue around Apollo's mouth before pushing it through the half parted lips.

"I know" he murmured when he moved his lips down over Apollo's chin and started licking and kissing his throat. "I know, Pol."

He started moving again, sliding his hands down Apollo's shoulders and smoothing them across his chest to reach the nipples. He pulled each one gently, as far as they'd go, listening to Apollo's gasping. Apollo's hands ran down over his hips to cup his buttocks for a centon or two, massaging them, then slid around to enclose his prick and balls.

"A -pol -o!" Starbuck breathed into Apollo's throat as Apollo pumped him to the same rhythm. "A-pol-o!"

He was moving faster now, and Apollo was moaning, half in delight half in pleasurable frustration at barely being able to move. Then when Starbuck rose, Apollo half rose with him, grasped him around the waist and started to thrust hard, meeting him on each stroke. He was impaling Starbuck with each thrust, getting in as hard and as high as he could. At this angle, he was pounding on Starbuck's prostrate, not the gentle stroking rhythm he tended to favour, and Starbuck was almost whimpering, head thrown back now, eyes closed.

"Shit, you're so hot. So hot," Apollo gasped, as the soft channel he was creating inside Starbuck gripped and held him. "Oh God, Starbuck.."

He got one hand back onto Starbuck's prick and resumed pumping him hard, faster and faster now, harder on each stroke. Starbuck moaned and whimpered, wordless now, conscious only of that hard prick sliding in and out of him, the almost-pain of the pounding his prostate was getting and Apollo's hand gliding strongly up and down his erection. He came with a yell that must have sounded like a battle alarm, and shot up Apollo's chest.

"Geez!" He kept going despite the sudden post-sex exhaustion that had him gasping for breath. "Pull out, Pol. I want to see you come."

"Try." Apollo gritted his teeth as the heat and pressure in his groin grew almost too much to bear.

At the last micron he pulled all the way out, spasming all over Starbuck's prick and balls. Quick as lightening, Starbuck got his hand on Apollo's slickly gleaming prick and pumped it, wringing another shorter burst from Apollo's balls, then a third. Gasping, he rubbed it into himself, smiling dazedly into Apollo's eyes, watching the hectic flush fade back to the usual pallor. He loved watching Apollo come. It was the most wonderful thing in the world.

"Then you'll be able to taste yourself on me later," he said, and settled himself astride Apollo, cuddling in close and kissing him.

"Remember now?" Starbuck asked, when he got some semblance of normal breathing back.

Apollo nodded. "It's coming back to me. We may need to do this a few times before I'm sure I remember all of it though."

Starbuck ran gentle, loving fingers down his true love's cheek.

"Okay with me, Pol. Told you, though, didn't I? Isn't that one helluva lot better than *all right*?"

***

"Oh come on!" Starbuck protested sleepily as the chime went again. "Who is this idiot? Can't he tell we don't want to be disturbed?"

Apollo was curled up next to him, still dozing. He muttered crossly as Starbuck moved and disturbed him.

The chime went again. Louder. Insistent.

"What is it?" Apollo surfaced enough to ask.

"Your bloody communicator," Starbuck grumbled, falling out of bed and staggering towards the living room. He glanced at the timepiece on the wall. Mid afternoon. Well, so far it had been a great day. He pushed the communicator into Apollo's slack hand. "Answer it, then I can go back to sleep."

Apollo sat up, yawning. "Sleep? You're definitely getting old, Star. Only three times and you need to sleep?" He thumbed open the communicator. "Apollo."

"It's me, Apollo." Adama said, not sounding in the least apologetic although given that he'd left the Lieutenant in his son's quarters the previous night he had to have a fair idea of what the two of them were up to. "We need to talk. You'd better come up to the briefing room."

"What's happened?" Apollo was instantly awake.

"He's gone public, Apollo. He's sent his latest message to IFB, complaining that you aren't listening to him. We need to talk. Everyone knows now that the angels are aimed at you."

***

"I'm sorry to have to disturb you, Apollo," Adama said. "It was necessary."

"I missed IFB," Apollo said. "What was said?" He and Starbuck slid into seats at the briefing table to Adama's left.

Adama sat in his usual place at the head of the table. Tigh and Reese were both there, sitting opposite Starbuck and Apollo. Reese watched them speculatively, wondering why the Lieutenant was there. Tigh watched Adama.

"We got IFB to give us the original. It went out on the noon bulletin." Reese put a data crystal into the table-top communicator link. "Not, you understand, a voice message. That would have given us something to work with, something to analyse. All we have is this."

He turned the screen to face the two warriors and started the crystal running.

***Hello, sweet Angel, why won't you talk to me? Does one of your pilots have to die before you talk to an old, old friend? And we were such good friends before you made Captain, weren't we? Talk to me, sweet Angel. Talk to me. Hello sweet Angel, why won't you talk to me? Does one of your pilots have to die......***

"Same message. Repeated." Reese said, settling back in his chair.

Apollo was frowning. Something wasn't quite right.

"Can you tell where it came from?" He shed no tears about realising that everyone would now make the connexion he'd tried so hard to hide. It was too late for that. And perhaps Starbuck's loving acceptance made it easier.

"Transmitted to the IFB studio on the Equus from somewhere on this ship, by someone with access to the main communications net. That narrows it down to about six hundred personnel. God knows how we'll find which one of 'em it was." Reese eyed Apollo grimly. "It would help if I knew what I was looking for," he said pointedly. "Is this genuine?"

"I don't know," Apollo said doubtfully. "But if you're asking if the messages and angel images have been aimed at me, then the answer to that is yes."

"I need to know." Reese said, not even trying to hide his impatience at the reticence that had hampered his investigation. If Adama hadn't been there, he would have been extremely forthright about it.

Adama looked up. For the last few centons he'd sat quietly, hands clasped on the table, and apart from one quick glance at his son's set face, he'd looked down at them steadily.

"Apollo?" He asked for permission to speak, to tell Reese.

Apollo nodded.

Adama turned to Reese. "You're looking for a white male, Reese. Caprican He'll be about sixty now. His name's Todd."

"Not on the lists," Reese said, almost instantly.

"No. He's not listed at all in the Fleet, but he must be here." Adama watched Apollo anxiously. "About fifteen yahrens ago, Todd went to prison, a ten yahren sentence without remission for serious sexual offences against a minor."

Tigh looked sharply at Apollo. Reese merely looked thoughtful. Starbuck openly took Apollo's hand in his. That made Reese look even more thoughtful.

"You?" he asked Apollo.

Apollo nodded. "I was just thirteen," he said with difficulty. The pressure of Starbuck's hand increased.

"So what you think is that this Todd was among the survivors and has waited for two yahrens to get his revenge on you?"

Apollo shrugged. "I guess."

"And the Angel?"

"His name for me."

Reese sat back, thought about it. "But why wait for two yahrens? He must have just come aboard the Galactica..."

"No. Apollo and I have talked about the only possibilities there, and he's sure that neither of them are Todd. He must have been here longer."

Reese grunted at that, reaching for the computer. After a couple of centons he hit the print button and looked up. "I make it nineteen possibles amongst the civilian crew."

He handed Apollo the list.

"Sixteen. Barnaby and Hallam are the two the Commander and me already thought about. Neither of them are Todd. And it's not Callan either. I don't know any of the other names."

Reese took the list back. "Two techs in Doctor Wilker's lab, otherwise mostly general maintenance staff. We'll check them out."

Tigh spoke for the first time. "What's bothering you about that message, Apollo?"

"I don't know," Apollo said. "It just doesn't feel right."

Tigh swung the screen around, studied the message again.

***Hello, sweet Angel, why won't you talk to me? Does one of your pilots have to die before you talk to an old, old friend? And we were such good friends before you made Captain, weren't we? Talk to me, sweet Angel. Talk to me. Hello sweet Angel, why won't you talk to me? Does one of your pilots have to die before you talk to an old, old friend? And we were such good friends ......***

"It seems to be referring to yesterday's incident with Lieutenant Bojay's Viper." Tigh said thoughtfully.

"We checked that out." Reese said. "The techs told me that a wire shorted, that was all. It wasn't sabotaged."

"But this suggests it was." Tigh said,

"I suppose he's laying claim to any incidents now, to build up the suspense," Adama said tiredly.

"Maybe, Commander." Tigh turned back to Apollo. "I wasn't aware that any of the messages had so far invited an answer or that you would know how to answer if you wanted to. "

Apollo looked up, puzzled. "There's only been two written messages. The first in the OC just spelled out Sweet Angel. The second came when the duty office was wrecked."

"Hello, sweet Angel. Remember me." Adama quoted softly.

Apollo nodded. "Not really asking for an answer. A rhetorical question. And I don't know how to contact Todd. If I did we wouldn't be sitting here now." Apollo turned around the screen again, studied the message. "And why say he knew me before I made captain? Given how long ago it was, why say that? He might as well have said before I left school. At least it would have been more accurate."

"The duty office message followed this same sort of repetitive pattern." Reese pointed out.

"I know. But this one doesn't feel right." Apollo scowled. "It's so long."

"We're saying it's a possibility that this one's faked? Who'd do such a thing?" Adama sounded appalled.

"Who saw the duty office one?" Tigh asked.

"Me, the Commander, Reese when he came to see the damage. Oh, and Bojay. He was the one who found the duty office trashed".

"Bojay?" Adama straightened up.

"That bastard!" Starbuck spoke for the first time. "It would be just like the greaseball to do this to wind you up, Pol. He said something yesterday on the flightdeck about answering him - Todd, I mean - so that he'd let up on everyone else. Remember? That was when we thought that it was sabotage. That fits with the bit of the message about the pilots."

"I can't believe Bojay would do something like this." Apollo said, as appalled as his father.

"I can," Starbuck said grimly. "He knows about us and has been making some snide remarks. Without knowing about Todd, he might reckon that it's someone out of your past, maybe jealous now. That message is pretty good, but it's not quite right about when Todd knew you. That's not a mistake Todd would make, but it might be made by someone making some pretty good guesses. And Bojay has full access to the comnet. He is one of the squadron leaders, after all"

"Why?" Tigh asked.

"You need to ask, sir? Bojay wants Pol's job."

"And how would this help?" Reese asked, frowning as he tried to make the connexion.

Starbuck glanced at Apollo. "He looks for ways of undermining you, you know. Pol. It would get people talking, speculating. And he was suggesting yesterday that you were cracking up. He might hope it would trigger something."

"I don't like angels, Starbuck, and, yeah, the thought of Todd scares me stupid, but I'm not thirteen any more and I am *not* out of my mind!"

"I know that," Starbuck said, carefully not looking at Adama. "But you were pretty jumpy about all of this and he's the type to try anything, as long as it's underhand."

"We can't be sure it was him." Adama pointed out.

"No-one else saw the message?" Reese asked.

Apollo shook his head.

"Shit." said Starbuck, remembering. "No-one else saw it, but Bojay told the whole of the OC about it. Anyone could have heard." He sighed. "Sometimes I'm too fair minded. Can we forget I said that and just beat the pogees out of Bojay? He deserves it anyway."

"I think I'll talk to him," Adama said grimly. "I need every pilot I can get, but if I find out that he did send this message to IFB, then I'll bounce him out of the service so fast his head will spin. He'll be lucky to pilot a fertiliser barge."

"They call them the shit wagons, Adama," murmured Tigh with a slight grin.

"Leave him to me." Starbuck said, eyes very cold. "I could use him for target practice."

Reese shook his head. "Problem is, we're just guessing. It could be Lieutenant Bojay, it could be this Todd. We've no way of telling."

"No." Adama said, and sighed. "What now?"

"I check out these sixteen names, and we see where we go from there. I think we ought to assume that this message is genuine, but we'll look into the possibility that someone, possibly Bojay, faked it to muddy the waters a bit."

Adama sighed and nodded, but before he could speak, Core Command paged him.

"Incoming message for Captain Apollo, sir," Omega said politely over the communicator.

"Internal?" Reese asked quickly.

"Yes."

"Patch it through here and try and put a trace on it." Reese ordered. "Just in case." "Commander?" Omega asked.

"Please comply," Adama said. "Thank you."

"Done, sir," Omega's tone was neutral. He wasn't used to being told to trace internal communications.

***Hello, sweet Angel. Where's the cherub? Hello sweet Angel. Where's the cherub? Hello, sweet Angel. Where's the cherub? Hello, sweet Angel......***

The message stopped abruptly.

"And what the hell does *that* mean?" Reese asked

"I don't know." Apollo frowned.

"It's bad enough dealing with angels without this guy hauling in the entire heavenly population." Reese was beginning to sound exasperated. "Who is - was - the cherub? Your name for him?"

"No." Apollo's voice was steady

"No-one else at Todd's, Apollo?" Adama asked quietly. "No one that you'd both remember?"

"I don't think so. No, I'm sure there wasn't."

"Then how does this cherub fit in?" Tigh wondered. "Not someone younger even than you were?"

Apollo shook his head. "I'm sure. There were others worked out of Todd's place, and some of them used nicknames, but nothing like that. I was the youngest, and I was the only Angel."

Reese looked very thoughtful at that. 'Worked out of Todd's place?' Well, he could figure out for himself what that meant. He wondered exactly what had gone on sixteen yahrens before, that the thirteen yahren old son of a Caprican blueblood ended up "working".

"So what does this message mean?"

"I don't know," Apollo said helplessly.

"If the message isn't referring to someone from the past, who's the little angel? Who's the cherub?" Starbuck muttered.

Apollo went very, very still.

"The little angel?" he said, his heart suddenly hammering painfully. He was chalk white.

Starbuck stared at him, realising in the same instant as Apollo just what the message could mean. "Oh no.."

"Apollo?" Adama looked puzzled, anxious, the connexion still un-made.

"Boxey." Apollo, shaking visibly now, threw off Starbuck's restraining hand and struggled to his feet. "I think he's got Boxey."

***

Athena glanced over to where Apollo sat shaking in Starbuck's arms. She could hear the soothing murmur of Starbuck's voice, watched as Starbuck pulled her brother in closer, his hand stroking the thick dark hair comfortingly. She was reasonably sure that Apollo was too distraught to realise that anyone, even Starbuck, was there.

"More than two centars," Adama said, his voice almost a groan of frustration. "How the hell can the school not realise he wasn't there for two whole centars?"

"He's too like his father." Athena brushed back tears, straightened up. Now wasn't the time to give way. Not until Boxey was found and safe. Then she could give way. "He's quiet, Dad. Most of a teacher's attention goes on the ones like Starbuck."

"I've got my people asking questions," Reese said quietly. "We're checking out the names on the list, trying to trace them. But that could take some time. There's probably nothing to do but wait."

"I don't think any of us are going to be very good at that," Adama put his head into his hands for a centon, sick with despair. He'd gone through this once already sixteen yahrens ago. He couldn't bear to go through it all again. And if Todd harmed Boxey, he thought it would kill Apollo, who knew better than anyone what it really meant. "My God, I thought he'd be safe in school."

"What's this all about, Dad?" Athena put her arm around his shoulders. "Who is this guy and why's he taken Boxey?"

"She doesn't know?" Reese asked, eyebrow raised.

"When this happened, she wasn't much older than Boxey is now." Adama rubbed wearily at his temples and, like his daughter, straightened up. Like her, he knew that this wasn't the time to give way.

"I'm a lot older now," Athena pointed out tartly.

Adama nodded and, excusing himself to Reese, took her to the other end of the briefing room and told her, quietly and unemotionally, what had really happened when her brother had run away from home sixteen yahrens before. As she listened to her father's quiet voice, Athena grew paler, the colour leaching from her face.

"Dear God," she said blankly, when Adama finished.

"Indeed. For a while I doubted there was one." Adama's faith had been severely shaken by what had happened to his adored eldest son. Although it had, in the end, endured, he understood perfectly Apollo's inability to believe.

"I always knew he was different after he came back," Athena said, shocked and visibly distressed. "But I thought it was because he'd been so ill. I can remember you and Mother rushing off to the hospital, and us not being allowed to see Apollo for sectons. But there was never any hint of any of this."

"Honey, you were nine. Zac was only seven. What could we tell you? It almost destroyed Apollo and he needed really careful handling afterwards. The last thing that would have helped would be him thinking everyone knew."

"And this man has Boxey?" Athena felt sick for a centon, her head reeling as she tried not to think of what Todd could do - may have already done - to her nephew. She understood better why Apollo was so devastated. She looked across at him, at the way Starbuck was holding him. Her eyes widened slightly as Starbuck kissed Apollo's hair comfortingly. "Is there something else I should know?" she asked pointedly, seeking a diversion.

Adama nodded. "Yes. They've been together for a few sectars now."

Athena sighed, and looked at Starbuck's intent face as he talked soothingly to Apollo, at the way that shock of blond hair fell into the bright blue eyes, and remembered how many times she'd smoothed it back. Not any more, though. She might have won out against Cassie one day, but she'd never ask even Starbuck for odds on her winning out against Apollo.

"I wonder what took them so long," she said regretfully, half to herself. "They look good together."

"They are good together, I think. All that ever kept them apart was Apollo and his memories of Todd."

She nodded. She walked across the room and bent down to kiss Apollo's cheek. He barely registered that she was there. Starbuck gave her a grateful look and she leaned down to kiss his cheek too. Then it was back to Adama to sit and hold his hand and wait.

And wait.

***

"We're on," Reese said, voice sharp. "Incoming message."

For the first time in a centar, Apollo seemed to realise where he was. He sat up, eyes more focused and alert. Reese swung the terminal screen to face him.

"We've got a trace on. We'll find him, Captain. Here it comes...

***Your desk drawer, Sweet Angel. Twenty centons. Your desk drawer, Sweet Angel. Twenty centons. Your desk drawer, Sweet Angel......***

One again the message ended abruptly.

"He knows we're monitoring," Reese muttered, angry. "He's not giving us time to get a fix."

"It's a hand-held, anyway, Boss," Sergeant Castor said, looking up from his own computer screen. "Not so easy to trace as a fixed terminal."

"He's left something in the duty office for me," Apollo said, and was on his feet.

"Pol, wait......"

But Apollo was already half out of the room, and it was all Starbuck and the others could do to keep up with him.

***

"So, how's it been?" Bojay asked as he and Sheba came to relieve Boomer and Jolly in the duty office.

"Quiet, quiet, quiet," Boomer said, stifling a yawn. "Reds Five and Six are on point, Eleven and Twelve on long patrol and not due back for another six centars. Rest of Red's on standby until 20.00, when Silver Spar takes over. Blue's just back in from picket duty and as soon as he's checked in the boys and girls, Giles will be here to report in and explain to us how he managed to stay awake, it was so boring. Gold's out there now, under Jillia's command."

"I can live with quiet," Sheba said cheerfully.

"We did have one interesting centon. Blue Seven picked up something that seemed to be trailing along behind us, but Isometrics decided that it was some sort of anomaly, and Seven was reading her own ship's signature bouncing back onto her sensor array. But we've told Gold to stay awake and pay extra attention back there. Isometrics have been wrong before now, and I don't think we want to be jumped."

"That we don't," agreed Bojay sincerely. He took the clipboard that Jolly was holding out for him and read through it quickly. Just a written version of Boomer's verbal report, and he scrawled his signature at the bottom of the page.

"Apart from that, nothing else." Jolly said, taking back the clipboard and putting it down on the desk.

"Apart from IFB," Bojay said, and grinned. "Now that was dramatic stuff, don't you think?"

"I'm not talking about that," Boomer said. "Apollo must be steaming."

"Then you're the only one who isn't. No-one's talked about anything else all afternoon. Between that and Apollo's unexpected absence today, the rumour's are flying thick and fast."

"Helped by you, no doubt," Boomer said acidly.

Bojay's grin widened. "I'm enjoying the discussion," he agreed blandly.

"Leave it, Bojay. We none of us know what's going on and you're just stirring it." Sheba sounded bored. It wasn't often that she had anything to say against her old Pegasus shipmates, but she still felt enough attraction to Apollo to dislike hearing Bojay run him down.

"You wrong me," Bojay said, with a wide eyed innocence that had Jolly pretending to heave melodramatically into the waste paper basket. "I just want to get to the bottom of this little mystery so that no other pilot's put at the risk the way I was. Apollo knows something about what's going on, and it's not very..." he smiled as he found the right word, still stung by Apollo's contempt the day before. "... it's not very *professional* of him to put us in danger."

"He'd never do that, and you know it," Sheba said impatiently. "And..."

She broke off abruptly as the door burst open and Apollo hurtled into the room. He said nothing as he raced past them and pulled open the drawer of his desk.

"Wha ?" Boomer began.

"Don't touch it!" Reese yelled from the door, and hurried across with Castor at his heels.

The four warriors scuttled to one side as the little duty office was suddenly filled to overflowing, staring in surprise as Adama and Athena came in, running. Starbuck was already leaning over the desk, staring into the open drawer, chest heaving with the exertion of trying to keep up with Apollo. Castor passed a sensor over the drawer.

"It's been wiped clean," he said in disgust. "One partial thumb print on the top left corner. Logged it."

"Now?" Apollo asked impatiently, and Reese nodded. Apollo lifted the small hand-computer out of the drawer.

"You've never seen it before?" Reese asked, routine taking over.

"No." Apollo held it in the palm of his right hand, opened it and used the stylus to switch it on.

"Give it here," Starbuck said, rootling about in the back of the fixed terminal on Apollo's desk. He pulled out a tiny connexion and fitted it into a socket at the back of the hand-held. "It's linked in, now. It'll be easier to see when the message comes through."

Apollo nodded, and settled into his chair, all of his attention on the computer screen.

Reese glanced at the warriors. "Any of you notice the hand-held?" he asked.

"It was here when Boomer and me came on duty. I just thought it was Apollo's." Jolly looked nervously at Apollo's set face, at Adama's stony expression.

"You two?" Reese looked at Bojay, wondering if Starbuck's suspicions had any basis. He thought that they could have. What he knew of Bojay wouldn't put a trick like that out of scope.

"We just got here," Sheba, too, was watching Apollo with curious attention.

"What's going on?" Boomer asked Starbuck.

"Trouble. Big trouble."

Adama joined him at the desk, put a hand on Apollo's shoulder. "Anything?"

"He said twenty centons. We'll have to wait." Reese said from the door, where he had been talking quietly and urgently with another security guard. "If he isn't late."

"Is this something to do with the IFB broadcast, Bucko?" Jolly kept his voice down, not wanting to draw Adama's attention.

Starbuck's gaze swept over the warriors and back to Apollo. "No. We're pretty sure that was a fake." he said.

"A fake?" Boomer was astonished. "How do you know?"

"It was a nice try, but the details were wrong."

Bojay was frowning. "But it was right about my fighter being sabotaged."

"You fighter wasn't sabotaged," Reese said as he passed, heading back to the desk to stand behind Apollo and watch the screen.

"Excuse me, but I think I'm in a better position to know about my fighter, even than the Chief of Security. I almost totalled it." Bojay sounded almost offended.

"The techs found a shorted wire." Reese didn't even bother looking at him. "It was an accident."

"An accident? Then if the Angel guy didn't rig Bojay's Viper, the IFB message doesn't make sense." Sheba sounded confused.

"It didn't anyway." Starbuck turned to look coldly at Bojay. "It made a few too many guesses about this guy and Apollo to ring true. To those of us who do know, that is."

Bojay said nothing, looked back steadily at Starbuck but there was the faintest self-conscious flicker in his eyes. It was enough for Starbuck.

"Right now, I don't have the time to bother with the spiteful, malicious, treacherous bastard who sent IFB the message," Starbuck said. "But believe me, Bojay, I'll tear you apart when this is over."

"Me? What's it got to do with me?" All injured innocence, Bojay looked around at the others, as if seeking support. They all looked at him, and then away. Even Sheba wouldn't meet his eyes.

"We all know what a spiteful, malicious, treacherous bastard you are, Bojay." Starbuck said. "But that was a vicious trick to pull even for you."

"I had nothing to do with it!" Bojay looked at Sheba for support, touched her arm to get her attention, trying to gauge her reaction. The look she gave him betrayed how sick and shocked she was, and that she didn't believe him.

"Why think it was Boj?" she asked, forced through loyalty to speak up.

She and Bojay went back a long way. She had clung to him when they had both ended up on the Galactica, as one of the last links to her father and the Pegasus. They'd shared the same values, that feeling that the Pegasus was superior in every way to every other ship in the Fleet, even, at first, despising the Galactica pilots for the caution that was in such stark contrast to everything her father had done.

But unlike Bojay, she had learned that what had seemed like some glorious swashbuckling adventure for Cain to take off in the Pegasus after the Battle of Molecai apparently wore a different face for other people. A very different face. Adama and Apollo, without ever saying anything and with nothing more than a shared glance, had both made it clear that they considered it a bare step away from desertion. Apollo had only had to express his surprise that when the Pegasus had heard of the Destruction through the Cylon comnet, Cain hadn't turned at once for home to see what he could do, and Cain's daughter had squirmed with an indignant consciousness that perhaps the Captain might be right. For a long time she'd thought privately that the Pegasus had no basis for claiming superiority except Cain's overweening confidence in himself.

"The message said a lot of the things Bojay was saying yesterday," Starbuck sounded tired now, and she remembered that he'd only been out of the Life Centre for a day. "And in almost the same words. The same, spiteful little words."

Sheba thought back to the crash landing, and nodded. Almost the exact words. She looked at Bojay as if she'd never seen him before, and didn't like him much now she had. She realised that she didn't actually like him very much. She shook off his hand and took a deliberate and telling step away, moving closer to Boomer and Jolly. Her action couldn't have been more symbolic.

"That's ludicrous!" Bojay protested. "At the very least, if I was going to send that message, I'd make sure it didn't sound like me. You can't prove I had anything to do with it."

Without looking round, Adama said coldly: "If I could prove who did it, I'd keelhaul them. Personally."

"And I might just help," Athena added. She did turn to give Bojay a contemptuous glance. "Especially if it's provoked the guy to take Boxey."

"Boxey?" Boomer moved forward fast, forgetting to be inconspicuous and quiet while the Commander was around. "Shit, not the kid!"

Starbuck nodded, and turned back to watching Apollo, who was still staring intently at the screen.

"What's this all about, Bucko?" Boomer asked.

Starbuck glanced at Adama, who nodded, then joined his fellow warriors in the corner of the room ostentatiously ignoring Bojay.

"It's a very long story, but about fifteen yahrens ago the guy who's been doing all of this went to prison, a very long stretch. Apollo's testimony put him there. Now he sees it as pay-back time."

"But Apollo would have just been a kid." Like Starbuck, Sheba kept her voice down.

"Yeah. Thirteen when it happened. The trial was a yahren or so later."

"What charge?" Bojay asked abruptly.

Starbuck looked at him with withering contempt. "You know what charge, Bojay. You aren't stupid. Or do you just want me to say it out loud so you can enjoy it better?"

"Ignore him," Sheba said, making her feelings towards her wingmate crystal clear. She glanced at Apollo and sighed. "Poor kid," she said, referring not to Boxey, but the thirteen-yahren old Apollo. "And the angel drawings?"

"Let's just say that angels are very significant, linked to what happened."

"Shit," sighed Boomer. "No wonder he was so antsy about them."

"And no wonder he couldn't talk about it," Jolly agreed, a sympathetic look for Apollo.

"What happened to Boxey?" Boomer too was watching Apollo, his concern obvious.

"Disappeared from school a few centars ago, just after the IFB broadcast. We think the guy wants to force Apollo into a meeting."

"And then what?" Jolly asked, moving away from Bojay, putting some distance between them.

Starbuck shrugged. His voice shook with the fear he was trying to keep under control. He knew that nothing would persuade Apollo not to meet Todd, not while Todd had Boxey.

"Apollo's testimony put this guy inside for ten yahrens, no chance of parole. I doubt if he just wants to talk over old times. Bojay might just inherit Pol's command."

"I think not," Adama said, icy. "Not under any circumstances.

Bojay, red faced but still maintaining his air of injured innocence, moved quietly and discreetly into the background. He looked appealingly at Sheba, but she turned her back on him. Instead, she walked up to Athena and put an arm around her, comforting. Bojay looked at the door, but there were too many people between him and it for him to make a unobtrusive exit.

Another strained silence fell. Apollo stared steadily at the screen, waiting for Todd. He was barely been aware of who else was in the room. He certainly hadn't been aware of the conversation. His whole attention was fixed on the screen.

"He's through," he said suddenly, as the screen lit up and a message started scrolling.

***Hello sweet Angel. Time to meet. Hello sweet Angel. Time to meet. Hello sweet Angel. Time to meet.***

Apollo used the main keyboard.

***When and where?*** He hit the return key.

A centon's wait. No reply.

"Come on, come on" he whispered impatiently, and sent the message again.

***When and where? When and where?***

***Deck 21, staircase 12 in twenty centons. Alone. Unarmed. No communicator. And bring this with you. Deck 21, staircase 12 in twenty centons. Alone. Unarmed. No communicator. And bring this with you.***

The message stopped.

"Deck 21's a possible," Castor said doubtfully. "Hard to tell. He's moving about a lot between messages to stop me locating him."

"Decks 19 through to 21 are all storage decks." Reese was bringing up schematics on Apollo's computer now. "No-one ever has the need to go there much."

Apollo unbuckled his laser and put it carefully on the desk, dropping his communicator down beside it. "He's making it easier. Twelve's the nearest staircase to the office."

"But you've got to get down fifteen decks." Boomer said, looking at him anxiously.

"I'll take the turbolift to deck 18 and go down from there."

"It's madness, Pol. Please take me with you!"

"You can't go alone." Adama protested.

"I have to do as he says. I have to try and get Boxey out." Apollo spoke quietly but firmly.

"Starbuck's right, son. He's not set all this up to have a friendly little chat. You'll be in danger if you go down there."

"He'll kill you, Pol" Starbuck forced himself to say it.

Apollo shrugged. "Maybe. But I can't leave Boxey with him. Not with Todd."

"I won't permit it," Adama said flatly.

"You can't stop me." Apollo put a hand on his father's arm. "Dad, sixteen yahrens ago, if you'd known where I was and what he was doing, what would you have done to get me away?"

Adama closed his eyes for a micron, then nodded. "Anything." he admitted. "Anything at all."

"Then you know I have to go. Boxey has to come first, you know that. And it's my fault - I should have warned the school. We should have guessed Todd would do this."

"We couldn't have known," Adama said.

Apollo shrugged at that. Right then, all that was important was getting Boxey away from Todd. "I've got to get him out."

"Pol!" Starbuck said, anguished.

Apollo shook his head at him and turned to Reese. "What's it like down there?"

"Like I said, 19 through to 21 are used only for storage. The decks are pretty much laid out like all the others, except there's fewer small compartments, more big storage hangers. But no heating, and emergency lighting only. It'll be cold and dark."

"Then I'll take a torch."

"I'll get one." Jolly was, as ever, unquestioningly supportive. He opened a small storage locker and found a torch, handing it to Apollo.

"Listen to me," Reese said, tone urgent. "Once you go down there, Captain, you're on your own and up against someone who will evidently stop at nothing to get to you. I just don't have the manpower to search three levels for you."

"There's a hell of a lot of pilots and techs who'll help," Boomer said stoutly. "Just tell us what needs to be done."

Reese looked at him consideringly for a centon, then nodded. "Okay. Get them all together and we'll talk them through what's needed. Apollo, I haven't got time to fit you with a wire so we can listen in, and he may spot it anyway, but we can give you this."

He opened a small box that he'd taken from the security guard at the door. At first glance what he took from it looked like an ordinary Captain's rank pin.

"Tracer." Reese said. He unpinned one of the insignia from the collar of Apollo's battledress tunic, replacing it with the new one. He waved a scanner at it.

Castor nodded. "Activated and reading."

"Good. If this shows you're in one location for more than, say, twenty centons, then we'll move in."

"Not if it puts Boxey in danger," Apollo protested.

"We'll be careful." Reese assured him. He unplugged the palm-top and held it out. "You'll need this. I doubt he'll be waiting at the foot of stair twelve. He'll use this to get more instructions to you. Good luck."

Apollo nodded. "Then I'd better be on my way."

Adama took a hurried step forward. He didn't say anything - he couldn't - but for a centon he ignored everyone else there, and held his son close in an unusual public display of the affection that was seldom on show for others. Apollo hugged him back and then pulled Athena in close.

"Be careful, big brother," she choked out, and retreated back to Sheba's comforting embrace.

"I promise." Apollo said.

For a long centon he looked steadily at Starbuck, then raised a hand to stroke the Lieutenant's cheek.

"I'll be back."

"You'd better be, Pol." Somehow Starbuck managed a confident smile. "I remember what you promised me today and I've been short-changed by several centars. You owe me one."

Apollo's grin was thin and strained. "If not several."

"Well, as you so ungallantly pointed out earlier, I'm getting old. One's all I can manage these days. One's all I need, Pol, as long as it's you."

Apollo's grin broadened. "Love you too, Star."

He pulled Starbuck into his arms and leaned into a kiss that managed to be both passionate and loving, touched Starbuck's face again and was gone.

"Oh shit," Starbuck said forlornly as the door closed.

The warriors and security were all staring, even Boomer, wondering what Adama made of that even more unusual public display. Half to signal what he did feel about it, half to comfort Starbuck, the Commander took a step forward and put his arm around the Lieutenant's shoulders.

"It'll be all right, son," he said with more confidence than he felt. "Now, we've got a lot to do to get down there to help him. Let's get to it."

***

"Are we sticking together?" Cree asked, taking one of the headsets Boomer was distributing.

"Blue always sticks together, Cree," Boomer said gently. "Got your laser? If you can use one, Jolly's handing out laser rifles as well."

"Can we join you, Boomer?" It was Jordan, Apollo's ground crew chief and a tech that Boomer had met before. Hallam.

"Glad to have you along," Boomer said warmly, and handed them headsets. "We're all tuned into 124.6."

Hallam took the laser rifle Jolly handed him. He grinned at the quizzical look Boomer gave him. "I was a ground assault trooper long before I became a tech, Lieutenant. I can handle it."

"I bet," Boomer said, admiring the competent air with which the tech checked over the rifle. "We can use that sort of experience, Hallam. Thanks for volunteering."

"I've not been here long and I don't know the Captain well, but I like what I've seen. And Jordan's recommendation means a lot. Glad to help out."

Boomer looked gratefully at the grizzled ground chief. "Thanks, Jordan."

The big man shrugged. "I've headed his crew for five yahrens, Boomer, ever since he got here. He's the best, bar none."

"Yeah," Giles said, and sighed. "We think so too."

Hallam snapped the energy pack into place on his rifle. "How big is each unit going to be?"

"A dozen or so, I guess," Boomer said. "We'll be moving soon, I hope. The tracer's been stationary for a few centons now and I think they've got a lock on Apollo's position."

"What's this guy want with the Skipper anyway?" Cree asked. "I mean, Apollo must only have been a kid when this guy went to prison. What was it all about?"

They all looked at the boy's fresh-faced innocence and sighed for how old and cynical he made them feel. And they all welcomed the diversion from their thoughts and their anxiety about Apollo. The Captain had been gone for over a centar now, and God alone knew what might have happened to him. And as was the usual way with warriors before a battle, they hid their apprehension for Apollo and for what the next centars might bring, in jokes and black humour.

"How old is this child?" Hallam asked.

"Young." Greenbean said sadly. "Very young."

"I'm not that young," Cree protested. Then the cubit dropped. "Oh. I didn't realise... I mean...." He went pink about the ears.

Meade, beside him, looked exasperated. "Can I have a wingmate that isn't a babe in arms?"

"I'm older than you!" said Cree, stung.

"As well as being infinitely more intelligent, women are *always* more mature than men," Meade pointed out kindly.

"Always?" Boomer asked.

"An immutable law of nature." Meade was firm. She looked across to where Starbuck was talking to Adama and Reese, and sighed. "What's more to the point is the other news. So, it's true about Starbuck and the Skipper?"

"It is," Boomer said with a shrug.

There was no hiding it now. Not after that good bye. He didn't know whether it was Bojay, alone now in the duty office, or the security people, who'd spread the word, but most of the people waiting on the Alpha flightdeck for the signal to move in, seemed to come with the knowledge already, as if some strange form of psychic osmosis was at work.

"I knew he had to be getting some when he didn't come down on us about the storeroom, " Cree said ingenuously. "I didn't realise it was Starbuck, though."

The older pilots hid their grins. They'd had their suspicions, but then they were all older and wiser than Cree.

"Apollo's a very private kind of man, Cree," Jordan said warningly. "He doesn't like being talked about."

"Get it over with now," Jolly advised, shouldering the last rifle.

Meade was looking wistful. "Half the women in the Fleet will be crying into their pillows tonight," she predicted.

The rest of Blue squadron's male pilots grinned at her.

"Honey, Starbuck never really belonged to any of you," Giles said.

"You know him, Meade. 'Love them and leave them' has to be encoded in Starbuck's DNA somewhere." was Greenbean's contribution.

"Yeah. In all the yahrens I've known him, he's only ever been faithful to Apollo," agreed Boomer.

"Actually, now I come to think of it, he's always revolved around Apollo," Jolly added.

Meade's eyes rolled heavenwards at their obtuseness.

"Not just for Starbuck, stupids. Look, Bucko's handsome and charming and a lot of fun, and yeah, there'll be a lot of red eyes for him tonight. But there'll be just as many for the Captain."

"For Apollo?" came a surprised chorus.

For Apollo, who was always shy and quiet around women, who never flirted, who wouldn't know charm if it was wrapped around his knees and tripping him up, who never had the sort of affairs for which Starbuck was famous, who had probably never broken a heart in his life?

"Of course for Apollo!"

"Our Apollo?" Boomer asked, just to be certain. "The Apollo who's our Captain?"

"He's just as good looking as Starbuck, and those green eyes are so amazing, and he's dark and sort of brooding and melancholy and sssooooo romantic and sexy." Meade sighed heavily, looked at their uncomprehending faces and shook her head in disgust. "You lot have no idea at all. I know which one I'm crying for tonight and it ain't the blond."

She stalked off to discuss the latest news with the only creatures guaranteed to share her own rational views about it: Bree, Regan, Sheba and the other female pilots.

"I've never thought of Apollo as romantic and sexy." Giles said wonderingly.

"I'd have said you had the wrong equipment for it, until the news broke about him and Starbuck," Greenbean was grinning. "I've spent yahrens trying to act like Starbuck in the hope some of it'll rub off, and now I find I've been wasting at least fifty percent of my time. Depressing."

Cree frowned. "I'll never understand women."

"The boy's growing up fast." Jolly said, grinning.

Giles sighed. "Joking apart, we'd better stick close to Starbuck," he said, and they nodded understandingly. Starbuck might just need his friends that night.

Youth, however, was untroubled by apprehension and had its mind on other things.

"If I spent ten centons a day staring into a mirror practising brooding, do you think that one day Meade would think I was sort of melancholy and romantic?" Cree asked.

They looked at him.

"No," they said in unison.

Cree sighed. "Thought not." He looked over to where Starbuck and Adama were staring over Reese's shoulder at the computer screen that Castor was using. "Who'd have thought it, eh? Starbuck and the Captain, I mean. Amazing. You know what?"

"What?" Jolly said, indulgent, as ever, with the young.

"It brings a whole new meaning to the phrase 'getting Starbucked'."

***

***Drop down to 20 at staircase 35, fifty metres ahead.***

Apollo sighed. For the last half centar, he'd been up and down between the three storage decks, always working his way aft towards the stern of the ship. But Todd seemed determined to keep him moving, obviously checking to make sure that Apollo had obeyed instructions and come alone.

Apollo ran to the stairs along corridors so gloomy he could barely see more than a few feet ahead. Every ten metres or so a dim light glowed in the corridor ceiling, hardly making any impression on the heavy darkness. The torch Jolly had found him was invaluable. The storage decks were every bit as cold, too, as Reese had warned.

Apollo barely noticed either cold or dark. Every thought was on Boxey and the awful danger he was in. Apollo was as clear-sighted as Starbuck about what Todd wanted, and he knew that he would be fighting for his life, but all that mattered to him was that he got Boxey out. Please the God he no longer believed in, that he got Boxey out unharmed and untouched. Please God.

***You should be on 20 by now.***

Breathing heavily Apollo dropped the last few feet and keyed in.

***Here.***

***Good. Now down to 21 and wait.***

Apollo scrambled back onto the ladder and down to the lowest deck within the Galactica's massive hull. There were only a few metres of armour plating between him and space, and normally he'd have enjoyed the chance to explore a part of the ship he didn't know. But now he had no energy to spare to think about it. He stepped out of the tube that held the ladder, and waited, his eyes on the little screen in his hand. He leaned against the access door, where it was lit by the dim emergency lighting panel above his head, tucking the torch into his jacket pocket.

Silence. Waiting. Knowing now that Todd was close, watching from the shadows. Almost time.

Something glinted faintly as it caught the light, arcing through the air to drop at his feet with a metallic clatter that made him jump back a foot. He looked down. Binders.

"Hello, sweet Angel." The voice came out of the darkness to his right. "I'm glad to see you're still as submissive as ever."

"Boxey?"

"Learn patience, Angel. I did. I learned patience in the penal colony on Rigus where you sent me. Take off your jacket. Let's be sure you aren't armed or wired or carrying anything you shouldn't be."

Apollo shrugged quickly out of his flight jacket and tossed it to one side, thanking Reese for his foresight in attaching the fake pin to his battledress rather than the flight jacket.

"Open the tunic." Then when Apollo obeyed and then pulled open the thin pressure suit underneath: "Oh, pretty as ever. I'll get to know how pretty later, won't I, Angel?"

"Anything you want, if you'll let Boxey out of here. Anything."

"Oh I'll take everything I want, sweet Angel. Put on the binders and hold up your hands to show me."

Apollo stooped to catch up the binders. Standard security issue, as far as he could see: two metal bracelets with about four inches of chain between them. He snapped the binder closed on his right wrist, then on his left, and held up his hands.

"Good boy," Todd said approvingly.

Apollo forced back the memories of that voice and those words. Sometimes, when the child had been particularly skilled and responsive, drugs dulling resistance, the man had said that, strong hands holding the thin abused body he was thrusting into. Sometimes.

"Please, Todd. Let me see Boxey."

"But of course." Todd stepped out of the shadows, a laser in his hand.

Apollo stared openly, trying to see any resemblance at all between this unremarkable man and the ghost from his past. At thirteen, Apollo had been small for his age, and skinny, only shooting up like a weed a yahren or so later until he was as tall as his father. The Todd of his memory had always bulked large over the child Apollo had been, a strong man, stocky, muscular despite the life of drugs and drink.

It was little things that Apollo could remember best, that sometimes invaded his mind and dreams. Brown eyes that had reminded him of the hard wet pebbles on the seashore near his home outside Caprica City; the peculiar little patterns of hair in the curls on the wide chest; the way that when the big hands had knotted into fists Todd had always tucked his thumbs protectively into the curled fingers, as if afraid that he might damage them against the boy's defenceless body; the broad, flat fingernails; the taste of ambrosa and smoke on the tongue forcing its way into his mouth as a hot wet precursor to the hard cock that would force its way into his body.

This wasn't the Todd he remembered, the Todd who'd towered over him and who'd had the strength to pull a kicking, struggling thirteen-yahren old into his room, force him over the arm of a chair and rape him. This was no longer the man who had physically intimidated him into acquiescence, and after centars of painful sex had forced him to swallow the little white pills that had left him too drugged and dazed to fight any longer. And too drugged and dazed to care, even when it had been Todd and a friend or two, or the complete strangers Todd had rented him to.

This was a middle-sized man, smaller and thinner than Apollo remembered, as white-haired as Adama was now but without the Commander's straight backed military posture. Todd's shoulders bowed in a stoop and he walked with a slight limp. He didn't look much like Apollo's memories at all. Only the eyes were the same. They were still as hard as wet, sea-washed pebbles.

"You've changed." Apollo said at last. He frowned, wondering whether he'd seen this man about the Galactica. There was a faint familiarity, no more.

"Enough so that you never noticed me around. I've been here a long time, watching you, for almost two yahrens now." Todd smiled, came closer, hefting the laser in his hand. He caressed Apollo's cheek with the laser barrel. "And you're still so very pretty, sweet Angel. So very, very, pretty."

The laser barrel traced around Apollo's mouth and Todd leaned forward, his tongue following the path of the laser, licking down Apollo's cheek to run greedily over the lips. He held the laser out of reach with one hand, sliding the other into the loosened tunic.

Apollo stood very still, unresisting, passive, not reacting. Todd could do anything he liked, as long as he hadn't touched Boxey.

Anything at all.

***

"We're on our way. The Commander's coming with us." Starbuck joined Boomer and Blue Squadron.

"Where to?"

"Twenty one." Starbuck shouldered the laser rifle, and he had Apollo's laser as well as his own. He looked quietly desperate, and Boomer knew just how terrified the Lieutenant was.

Adama, coming across the flightdeck, was unarmed. "Ready?"

"We're ready." Starbuck nodded.

"Reese is taking a contingent of security guards down in turbolifts 15 and 16 and will work his way back aft. We'll go from here. We should meet up just where the tracer is." Adama wanted desperately to say 'where Apollo and Boxey are', but wouldn't tempt fate.

"What about the rest, sir?" Boomer asked.

"They'll be held in reserve in case we need to start searching levels 19 and 20." Adama was carrying another small computer. "We've loaded these with schematics. I'll navigate."

"I can help," Jordan said. "Most of the deck crew can find their way round down there. It's mainly us who use those decks."

Adama nodded gratefully. "Let's go, then. How many are we?"

Starbuck glanced behind them as they headed for the turbolifts. Mostly members of Blue squadron : Boomer, Jolly, Giles, Greenbean, Bree, Regan, Cree and Meade, with Jordan and Hallam.

"A dozen, including me and you."

"Let's hope that's enough," Adama said and gave Starbuck a wry grin.

The turbolift doors opened on deck 20, into a world of shadows and half darkness. The deck was bitterly cold, and more than one of the warriors paused to do up the fasteners on their flight jackets, grateful for the extra warmth the pressure suits under their battledress gave them. Adama and Jordan conferred together over the screen.

"This way." Jordan said at last. "There's a staircase ahead that will bring us down on 21 only a couple of hundred metres from the tracer signal."

They followed him as quietly as they could, Adama and Starbuck immediately behind him. The rest came in single file, Hallam bringing up the rear. The stair was only metres away, and before he opened the side access hatch to the tube that held it, Adama turned to them.

"When we get to the bottom, we'll be very close. As quiet as you can make it, please."

Starbuck was the first to swing onto the stair. He moved fast, the laser rifle slung over his shoulder. At the bottom he carefully opened the access door and peered along the dark corridor. After a centon, he looked up and signalled them down.

"All quiet," he said softly, as Adama joined him, Jordan close behind.

As the last of the team stepped off the ladder, Starbuck started off down the corridor, Adama at his shoulder, flitting from shadow to shadow. For a man his age and size, the Commander could move with surprising quiet and stealth. He'd had quite a reputation as a warrior, had Adama, and not just as an ace pilot. He'd led more than one successful ground raid, and, as Hallam noted with approval, hadn't forgotten how to move in enemy territory.

Because although this was Adama's ship, this was definitely enemy territory.

Starbuck put out a hand and stopped Adama. The team came to a silent halt behind them.

"Something up ahead," Starbuck breathed into Adama's ear, seeing again the flicker of movement in the corridor ahead, and for a centon they waited tensely, hardly daring to move or breathe. Then he sighed and relaxed, seeing the black security uniform. "Reese."

They moved forward quietly and openly, meeting Reese at the next intersection.

"Down there." Reese waved his laser towards a door that blocked a short corridor leading from the junction.

Starbuck checked his rifle, aware that everyone else was doing the same. He watched as Sergeant Castor moved quietly to the door, and pressed himself up against it, listening. Castor attached a tiny microphone to the door and moved back.

"Nothing. The tracer's behind there somewhere, but I can't hear anything," he said quietly, after checking what the mike was relaying.

"What's behind the door?" Reese asked.

"Storeroom, about fifteen metres by fifteen," Jordan said, looking up from Adama's hand-held. "A fair size, but not so big that the mike wouldn't pick up movement or voices."

"Do we move in?" Reese asked Adama.

Adama hesitated only for a micron, only briefly feeling the flare of resentment that, as ever, he had to make the decision. If they'd called this wrongly and burst in on Todd, Apollo and Boxey could get hurt or killed, and he couldn't bear that. But neither could he bear not to find them as quickly as possible.

"We go in." he said.

Reese nodded and gestured to Castor to move forward. Followed by a half dozen of Security, the big Sergeant returned to the door, and with infinite care operated the lock. The door slid open silently, and Castor slipped inside, followed by the security guards. Reese and Adama moved to the door, Starbuck treading on their heels. Adama could feel the Lieutenant's fear and impatience. He shared them.

The big storeroom was full of crates, piled high in the middle of the room. But nothing else. As Adama and Reese stepped in, Castor loomed up in front of them.

"Nothing," he said in disgust.

Adama's heart jumped in fear and disappointment. "But the tracer?"

Castor took the small sensor from his belt and pointed it at the walls, revolving slowly.

"Coming from over here," he said.

They walked slowly to the other side of the room, skirting the crates. No other door, no other entrance. Nothing.

"I don't understand it." Adama said. "A room on the other side of this wall?"

"Must be," Starbuck wanted to scream with frustration. "I thought this was too easy!" Despite himself, his voice rose, and only Adama's hand on his kept him calm.

"I know," Adama said understandingly.

Castor was frowning at the sensor, took a step backwards and looked up at the wall. "There!" he said, in satisfaction.

A ventilation grille, barely half a metre square, two metres above the level of the floor.

Adama reached up to it.

"Apollo?" he called softly into the grille. "Apollo?"

There was a slight rustling sound, then a frightened voice. A child's voice.

"Grandpa? Grandpa, it's me."

"Boxey!" The relief rang in Adama's voice. "Where are you?"

More rustling.

"I'm here, Grandpa. Please get me out of this place. Please..." Boxey was crying, scared and very cold. "Please. Dad said you'd come for me. He made me come in here and I want to get out."

Apollo was down here somewhere then. Boxey had at least seen Apollo.

"Two centons, and we'll get you out." Reese said, signalling two of the security guards forward. One had a crowbar, and forced open the grille.

"Out you come," invited the other guard, holding out his arms, but Boxey scuttled backwards.

"My Dad said I was only to get out for Grandpa or Starbuck."

"For frack's sake!" muttered Reese in disgust, a man who usually preferred children to be obedient and quiet.

Adama replaced the guard at the shaft opening. "I'm here, Boxey. Come on. Let's get you out."

Boxey obediently wriggled to the opening and reached out for his grandfather, hooking his arms around Adama's neck. Adama took a step backwards, pulling Boxey out of the ventilation shaft and carrying him over to a crate. He sat down with the sobbing child on his lap, rocked him comfortingly. One of the security people faded out to spread the good news that Boxey, at least, was safe.

"It's all right," Adama said repeatedly. "It's all right. You're safe now".

Starbuck dropped down from looking forlornly down the shaft. Nothing. He knew it was futile. Apollo couldn't have used the shaft anyway: only a child could have. He went across to Adama and squatted down beside him, putting a hand on Boxey's shoulder.

"All right?" he asked Adama.

"I don't know. He's freezing." Adama shrugged out of the long, sleeveless over-tunic he was wearing and wrapped the shaking child in it. He tilted Boxey's head back and spoke with all the authority he could muster. "That's enough crying, Boxey. I need to talk to you now."

Boxey gulped back another sob and nodded.

"That's better. The man who brought you down here, Boxey, did he hurt you? Touch you?"

Boxey shook his head. "That's what Dad asked me. No. He didn't hurt me." His lip trembled again at the mention of his father. "I want my Dad."

"Oh God, so do we," Starbuck said fervently, relieved that Boxey seemed to be unhurt, but desperately worried now about Apollo. "Where is he, Boxey?"

"I don't know." Boxey waved a hand at the grille. "Way back there somewhere."

"Is he all right?" Starbuck asked in desperation.

"I don't know," And Boxey was very close to tears again. "I'm scared Darus'll hurt him. He tied Dad's hands so he can't fight back..."

"Don't cry," Adama said automatically, and Boxey fought to stop the sobs, but nothing could stop the tears welling up in his eyes. "Tell me what happened."

"Darus left us alone and Dad forced open the grille and made me get in. He told me to keep on crawling and only come out when you came for me, or Starbuck or Boomer did. He said I wasn't to go back no matter what happened."

"He gave you the tracer?" Reese asked

"He gave me these." Boxey turned so that they could see the rank insignia pinned to his tunic glinting in the dim light. Both of the insignia from Apollo's battledress collar, the fake pin and the real one. "He said it would help you find me, and that I'd better keep this one of his to go with the one he gave me when he gave me Muffy, when I was little."

Starbuck and Adama looked at each other, each seeing the other's fear and anguish. Apollo was down here somewhere with a man who hated him, unarmed, helpless. And they had no way of finding him.

***

"Well, maybe we should go and find your little cherub." Todd's hand ran up Apollo's smooth chest, and once more caressed the side of his face. "It's very nice to see you again, Angel, but this isn't the time or place for dalliance."

He took a step backward and gestured down the corridor. "Walk four paces ahead of me, walk when I tell you to, stop when I tell you to. Understood?"

Apollo nodded. He shrugged to get the shoulders of his tunic back into place. Todd had pushed them back slightly to let his hot tongue trail across the sharp little bones and into the hollow at the base of Apollo's throat. Apollo had not let himself react, and now deliberately shrugged back into the tunic. Todd only laughed.

"Let's go. Straight ahead, Angel."

Apollo started off down the corridor. Seeing Todd again hadn't scared him nearly as much as he'd expected. Perhaps the contrast between the memory of brute strength and power and the reality of stooped late-middle age had laid that particular ghost. Except, of course, from Boxey's perspective, Todd would still be stronger and more powerful. Apollo closed off that thought rapidly. He'd find Boxey and get him out. That was all that mattered. Finding Boxey and getting him out.

"Next left."

Obediently, Apollo swung into the corridor. Under direction, he took the next right turn, the second left after almost two hundred metres. They were moving further and further aft. Apollo had never really thought before how vast this ship was. Finding Boxey might not be too easy. For a centon, he thought wistfully of Muffet. The droid, now deactivated and stored in a box under Boxey's bed, would have helped. He wished he'd had the sense to think of it earlier.

"Stop. The door ahead of you, Angel."

Apollo reached for the door control, then paused. "Boxey?"

"Inside." There was amusement in Todd's voice again.

Apollo pressed the door control, and stepped into the murkily-lit, low-ceilinged storeroom. More crates and boxes, and sitting forlornly on a crate, a very welcome sight.

Boxey looked up as the door opened. For a micron he stared, his expression scared until he realised who it was.

"Daddy!" The screech of delight should have been heard all over the ship, and Boxey hurtled forward to throw himself onto Apollo. "Daddy!"

Apollo couldn't get his arms around his son properly, not with his hands in the binders, but he did the best he could in the circumstances, his relief so great that he was almost dizzy.

"Are you all right?" He was on his knees in front of the boy, his hands cupping Boxey's face. "Are you all right, little son? He hasn't hurt you?"

Boxey shook his head. "He just left me in here in the dark, and I'm cold and I wanted you, Dad." Boxey leaned up against his father, immeasurably comforted just by Apollo being there, with all a child's instinctive trust that nothing bad can happen with your father there to protect you. He looked over Apollo's shoulder at Todd, lounging in the doorway. "I'm glad you're here, Dad."

"We both are Boxey," Todd smiled unpleasantly. "Now we can all have some fun."

Apollo ignored him. "He hasn't touched you at all, Boxey? Not done anything you didn't like?"

Todd laughed. "Lords, kids aren't that innocent, Angel. No, I haven't touched him. I haven't fucked him the way I used to fuck you. I thought we'd wait until you got here. I always perform better with an audience. You should remember that from all those threesomes we used to enjoy."

Apollo stiffened for a micron, sick with terror. He got to his feet and turned to face Todd. "Please let him go, Todd. You've got me, You've got what you wanted, and I promise I won't resist. Anything you want, Todd, but please let Boxey go."

Todd smiled and shook his head. "Naw. Don't you think I know what it'll do to you, watching me with him? You're the one had me labelled as a paedophile, Angel. I might as well live up to it."

"For God's sake, he's only eight!"

Todd shrugged. "So?" He took a step backwards. "I'm going to leave you two in here for a few centons while I check that our mutual friends in Security weren't tracking you somehow. Use the time to explain a few facts of life to him. Tell him what you and Starbuck do in bed, Angel. Then he won't be *too* surprised later."

"I won't let you touch him." Apollo said steadily.

"You can't stop me." Todd grinned, and the door closed.

Apollo heard the lock close.

"Dad?" Boxey said, quiet and scared still. "Dad, why's Darus done this? Why's he locked us up in here?"

"Darus?" Apollo was looking round the store room for something, anything, to use as weapon. "You know him?"

"Sometimes he cleans our quarters. I've talked to him, sometimes."

"Cleans our quarters?" So was that where he might have seen Todd? Todd was one of the civilian cleaning staff? Apollo pushed that thought away. "Is that what he calls himself? His real name's Todd."

"Is it?" Boxey was indifferent to that. After all, his real name wasn't Boxey. "What does he want?"

"He doesn't like me much," Apollo said, half distracted. "Shit. I have *got* to get you out of here."

Nothing. Not one fucking thing in the entire bloody storeroom that he could use to try and protect Boxey. But there had to be something,. There had to be! He couldn't let Todd carry out his threat and rape Boxey. He had to do something to get the child out of there. He scanned the room again. Crates, boxes, walls blank but for a ventilation shaft. Apollo's eyes narrowed, calculating. He could reach the grille with his bare hands, but all his tugging and punching at it wouldn't shift it. He needed to kick it in..

He had to do it. The shaft would be too narrow for him to use it himself, but it was the only way to get Boxey out of there. He might just do it if he could shift that crate up against the wall......

"Help me," he said, and got his back against a crate. "Help me push this to the wall."

Boxey joined in willingly, but his slight strength was no real help. Apollo, sitting on the floor, dug the heels of his combat boots up against another crate and pushed back hard, straightening his legs and pushing against the stationary box. The crate he was pushing moved a little, then a little more. He only had to move it a foot or two. Just another foot...

Close enough. Dripping with sweat from the exertion Apollo scrambled up and onto the crate.

"Stand behind me and stop me falling off this thing. I'm going to kick this grille in and you'll need to help by holding me steady. Okay?"

Boxey nodded, very quiet and very frightened now. His Dad was acting so strangely, he didn't know what to think. His Dad was scared. His Dad was really scared. But his Dad had fought Cylons and saved the Fleet and was the best pilot ever. Why was he scared?

"Ready?" Apollo asked, on his back on the crate. It wasn't perfect but it was all the purchase he could get.

With Boxey leaning hard against his shoulders, Apollo kicked viciously at the grille. How long did he have? How long before Todd came back? He had to hurry, had to hurry...He had to get Boxey out of there. He had to.....

At the third kick the grille tore away from its mountings, and he was able to bend it back out of the way, not even noticing that he was tearing his hands on the jagged edges. Breathing heavily, he pulled Boxey up onto the crate beside him.

"Listen to me. I want you to get inside that hole and crawl as fast and as far as you can." Apollo's bound hands tugged at the fake pin in his collar. He pinned it into Boxey's tunic. "This is a special pin, Boxey. It has something hidden in it to help your Grandpa find you. Don't lose it."

"I won't," Boxey promised.

Apollo pulled the other pin free. "But this one's mine. I want you to look after it for me, to go with the one I gave you when your mother was here, remember?"

That pin was still one of Boxey's greatest treasures. He nodded, round eyed and solemn.

"Good. Now, get in that shaft and start crawling. If you come to a junction, turn right or left..."

"Why?"

Apollo didn't want to scare the child by saying "To get out of the direct line of fire if he shoots at you". Instead he brushed back the rough brown hair.

"It's an order, Boxey. I don't have time to explain. Keep crawling until you've counted to a thousand, and don't turn back, no matter what you hear, okay? Even if he shouts after you, or you hear yelling, don't you come back here. Promise me!"

Boxey nodded, so scared now that the tears were very close. "I promise. Word of a Caprican."

It was the catchphrase Adama had taught Apollo all those yahrens ago, when, Starbuck said, the Commander had corrupted his son with too much of a sense of honour and fair play. It was a standing joke in the Adama family and, scared as he was for his son's safety, Apollo smiled at that. Boxey smiled back, a little reassured.

"Good. Then I want you to find a place where you can see out into a room like this one. Wait there until your Grandfather, or Starbuck or Boomer comes for you. They won't be long. Don't you come out for anyone you don't know. Okay? In you go."

"But he'll be mad and he might hurt you, " Boxey said uncertainly.

For a micron Apollo looked into eyes so like Serina's that his breath caught in his throat.

"It'll hurt me even more if you're still here when he gets back." Apollo hugged the child as close as he could, feeling how much the boy was trembling. He helped Boxey scramble up into the ventilation shaft. "Love you, little son. Now get going and start counting."

He watched as Boxey wriggled away to relative safety.

"Don't lose those pins!"

"I won't." Boxey promised, his voice muffled. "Sixteen. Seventeen. Dad, should I go right or left here?"

"Which ever you want."

"I'll go left, because you're left handed."

Apollo grinned at that sort of logic, knowing what Boxey was really saying. "All right. And remember, only come out for Grandpa or Starbuck."

"I promise. I'm scared Dad."

"I know. But everything will be all right. Get going and wait for Grandpa."

"Okay."

The sounds of Boxey's progress grew fainter, and Apollo sat on the crate, leaning his back against the wall, straining to hear for as long as he could. He leaned his head back, and grinned up at the ceiling, so relieved that he was almost light headed. Boxey was safe. Apollo knew that as soon as Boxey stopped moving, his father would move in. They'd find Boxey. It might take a centar or two, but they'd find Boxey, and his son would be safe.

Maybe there was a God after all. Maybe there was.

***

"Cree, you and Meade take Boxey back up top. Athena's waiting for him in Life Centre."

For once Cree nodded and didn't argue with Boomer's orders. Even youth could be intimidated by the cold and the dark, and if he'd not thought about the implications of this before, he was thinking about them now. The Skipper was a prisoner down here somewhere, and things didn't look good. Not good at all.

"What then?"

"If you're quick, head back to the Alpha bay and join one of the other groups. Kyle and Janna are leading the other two Blue contingents - see if you can get with one of them. Any group really."

"What's the quickest way up?" Meade asked, practical as ever.

Jordan looked at the schematics. "Turbolifts, about fifty metres that way."

"We'll escort them," Castor promised. "I know where we are."

"Thanks," Boomer said, feeling more kindly disposed towards Security than he had in a long time. He turned quickly as he heard them leave the storeroom.

Adama came out, still carrying Boxey. Starbuck was trailing along behind, face downcast.

"Hi, tiger," Boomer said with a grin, ruffling Boxey's hair in a way guaranteed to equally ruffle an eight-yahren-old's dignity. "You okay?"

Boxey sniffed and nodded. "Are you going to find my Dad?"

"Damn right we are," Boomer said, radiating confidence. He looked at Adama. "I've spoken to Thenie, sir. She's waiting in Life Centre for him and she and Cassie will keep him there until it's all over. They'll make sure he's all right."

"I don't think Todd touched him." Adama said. "Who's taking him up?"

"We will, sir." Meade stepped forward. "Me and Cree." She smiled encouragingly at Boxey.

"Can't I stay with you and Starbuck?" Boxey asked.

"No. And that's an order. I need you to go and take care of your aunt and Cassie for me. Okay?" Adama let Boxey down onto his feet.

"Okay." Boxey hadn't really expected his grandfather would say yes. He took the hand that Meade held out to him. Although he normally scorned such babyish things as having his hand held, he needed the comfort. "You'll find him, won't you Grandpa?"

"I promise," Adama said gravely, stopping down to hug him. "Just as soon as I can."

He watched as Boxey left with his heavily armed escort, and turned to Reese.

"I know," Reese said, before the Commander could speak. "Where do we start?"

"Three levels. They could be anywhere on these three levels." Starbuck's tone was dull, despairing.

Reese frowned, nodded. "If it was me, I'd move him as far away as possible, as fast as possible. I vote for level nineteen and we work our way down."

"All our resources?" Adama frowned too.

"This is a bloody big ship, sir. We're talking thousands of square metres on every deck, hundreds of store rooms. They could be anywhere. We need to block every lift and stair, and search every level thoroughly."

"That could take centars!" Boomer muttered.

"It will take centars." Reese agreed. "What choice do we have?"

"Pol doesn't have centars. Todd's not exactly going to be thrilled about losing Boxey."

"He lost Boxey almost a centar ago. It could already have happened. We can't tell." Reese didn't mean to be brutal, but he had no emotional investment in any of this, not the way that they did.

"I don't like it," Starbuck said. Now that he'd thrown off the despondency that had almost crippled him, every gambler's instinct was telling him that Reese was wrong. "I think that he'll expect you to come to that conclusion, and he's still down here somewhere, on 21, waiting for you to go running off two levels. He'll have more than one place prepared, and there's a thousand places he could hide Pol, places close to where he had him and Boxey, and where it's not so risky moving him as it would be taking him to a different level. I think they're still here."

"Commander?"

Adama closed his eyes for a micron. They were at him again to make decisions, choices, that if he chose wrongly could cost him dear. They could cost him his son.

"How many people do we have?" he asked, putting off the evil moment.

"About two hundred."

Adama nodded, made up his mind. "Split them. Get enough to cover every staircase and turbolift. You take level 19, put Castor in charge of those on 20. I'll stay here. We search each deck simultaneously, Reese. I think Starbuck's right. If Apollo's still alive, I doubt he has the centars we'd need to do each deck separately."

Reese nodded, not bothering to argue. "We need to do this systematically. Start aft and work forward?"

"We're slightly closer to the stern," Jordan said reading from the schematics. "Makes sense to start aft, I suppose."

"Then let's get to it," Adama said. "I've a promise to keep."

Starbuck gave him a sad little smile. "Yeah, I know. Word of a Caprican."

***

"You can't hide him. There's nowhere to hide him.." Todd gestured angrily with the laser for Apollo to move away to one side.

"It's just you and me, Todd. I told you I wouldn't let you touch Boxey. He's safe, you bastard. He's safe."

Todd saw the broken grille. For a micron he was so angry and furious that everything whited over, then he turned the laser on to Apollo.

Apollo's exultant grin died as he stared down the little black barrel pointed at him, and his mouth was suddenly dry. Boxey was safe, that he could cling to. He'd been afraid for Boxey and had managed to get him away. Now it was time to be afraid for himself. He slid off the crate, standing to face Todd.

Holding the laser out in front of him, Todd moved in close. He struck out, knocking Apollo off his feet with a vicious backhander that, manacled as he was, Apollo couldn't defend himself from. He went sprawling, and Todd raised the laser and coolly took a shot at him. Apollo's prone body jerked and convulsed as lightening crackled round him from the stun-beam, but, as every muscle in his body went into spasm, his throat was too constricted even to allow past the cry of pain and surprise.

Todd went past him, ignoring him, and jumped up on the crate.

"Kid! Come back here - right now - or I'll blow his fucking head off! Do you hear me? I swear I'll kill him! Kid!"

But Boxey was out of earshot, painstakingly counting his way through the seven-hundreds, and crawling persistently on.

"Boxey!"

Todd stared down the silent, empty ventilation shaft. He sent one wordless scream down the shaft and let off one laser shot in frustration. It reverberated uselessly in the shaft, disturbing nothing more than the echoes of Todd's screaming. Boxey felt, rather than heard it, but obeyed his father. He didn't know what the noise meant and Apollo had said not to stop until he got to a thousand, not to go back under any circumstances.

Furious, Todd jumped back off the crate, and glared down at Apollo.

"You devious bastard!" he said, and kicked at Apollo's ribs.

"Uhh". All Apollo could manage was a soft moan of pain. He was dazed and disorientated, gasping for breath from the stun. The green eyes staring up at Todd were blank and showed no recognition, but the laser had only stunned him, scrambling every neural synapse, and would take a few centons to wear off. Apollo would be left with a crashing headache but he was essentially unhurt by the laser blast. His face, though, was already bruising where Todd had backhanded him.

Todd kicked out again, his boot connecting hard with Apollo's helpless body. For some reason, Apollo's very helplessness and inability to react infuriated Todd even more and he gave the prone Captain a vicious beating, kicking wildly at him. Apollo managed to get his hands up to protect his head, and Todd, screaming with rage by then, pulled his hands away, stretching Apollo's arms above his head. With one foot he stood on both forearms, stamping on Apollo's hands with his other booted foot, with every ounce of his not inconsiderable strength. For all his age and the damage prison had wrought, Todd was a lot stronger than he looked, and Apollo, still only half-conscious, screamed as the heavy boots crushed his hands and fingers.

It was several centons before Todd backed away, breathing heavily. He leaned up against the door, rocking backwards and forwards, tears of rage and frustration still stinging his eyes. He brushed them away impatiently and stared at Apollo.

It was all falling apart. The Angel shouldn't have been able to get the kid away. He wasn't supposed to do that! He was supposed to watch, helpless, as Todd raped the kid and taught Boxey what he'd taught the Angel long ago. That there was no escape when someone was bigger and stronger than you, and wanted you. That there was only one way to escape a beating, and that was by moving that hot little arse of yours until the man who owned you was satisfied, and came inside you, crying out with pleasure. The Angel had spoiled all that. Time to spoil the Angel.

Todd shoved the laser into his belt and went back to Apollo. He was moving now, almost conscious, moaning from the pain in his hands and ribs. Todd looked at him calculatingly. It would still be a few centons before the stun wore off, and when it did, Todd didn't want Apollo to have anything to help him. Todd bent down and tugged off Apollo's heavy combat boots, tossing them to one side. Apollo could kick all he liked, now, but couldn't kick in ventilator grilles or do any other damage. He pulled Apollo half upright.

"Get up," Todd said, shaking him roughly. "Come on, get up. We've got to move."

He hauled Apollo to his feet and supported him, pulling him to the door. Still dazed, Apollo put up no resistance and half walked, was half-carried out of Boxey's prison. For an endless time he stumbled along, Todd holding him up. Apollo didn't seem to really know where he was or what was happening to him, and more than once his knees buckled as he drifted into momentary unconsciousness. Each time that happened, Todd shook him and hit him, yelling at him angrily, words that meant nothing to Apollo, just angry sounds, full of danger and warning.

It seemed an eternity until Todd let him down and he could close his eyes against the agony in his chest and hands, and drift away into a dark that wasn't filled with angry words and where the pain was so far away it belonged to someone else.

An Angel, maybe.

***

Starbuck held up a hand to halt the team, listening intently in his headset.

"Kyle," he said quietly. "He says he's just found Pol's flight jacket."

"Where?" Adama demanded.

"Bottom of staircase 35. Where's that?"

They gathered around the schematic that Jordan had somehow found himself in charge of.

"Not far." Jordan said "About two hundred metres to the left of us and slightly forward. We're getting closer then."

"Good." Adama said gruffly.

They'd made a fast trek the kilometre or more to the stern and started working their way forward. For a centar they'd moved slowly forward, checking every room and storage hangar, knowing that two other teams moved on parallel tracks to them. Occasionally they saw the others at the boundaries of their search area. This was the first real find. The first indication, apart from Boxey's escape, that Apollo was indeed down here somewhere.

"He'll be cold without his jacket," Bree said from the back of the group. She was cold herself, even with her jacket buttoned to the throat, and her hands were getting numb on the grips of the laser rifle.

"I hope so," Jolly said with unusual seriousness.

They all knew what he meant, and they all agreed with him.

They all hoped that Apollo was still alive to feel the cold.

***

"I don't think that there's much chance of you getting out of here, you know. Why not give it up? They'll have sealed every entrance. There's no way out."

Apollo had managed to get himself half upright against a crate. They were in a huge storage hanger, hidden away in the depths of a pile of crates the size of a small cargo ship. Todd had long ago wormed his way into the centre of the crates and prepared this place as a back-up to the storeroom he'd chosen as Boxey's prison.

It was all Apollo could do to sit up. His broken hands were cradled uselessly in his lap, so painful that he couldn't bear to look at them, as if looking at the grotesquely swollen and bruised fingers made the pain worse. Every breath he took, a sharp pain stabbed into his left side, and every now and then there was the hot metallic taste of blood in his mouth. He knew he was bleeding, that he would die without medical help. He was grateful for the cold. He suspected that was helping him, keeping him from bleeding to death.

"There's no way out, Todd," he said again.

Todd turned to face him. He was calm again, almost urbane. He came over and squatted down beside him.

"I guess not, sweet Angel. What does it matter?"

"It'll be easier if you let it go, Todd. Boxey's gone. Nothing you can do to me matters now he's safe. So why keep it going? Why not call my father or Reese? Make it easier on yourself."

"What's it matter?" Todd asked again, indifferent. "I'm not going back to prison, Angel. Not for you. Not again. Besides I don't think your father will let me out of here alive, and, that being the case, all he'll find of you is something to lock in a box and space."

Apollo leaned his head back against the crate. "He'd never do that, Todd. He's a good man. An honourable man."

Todd laughed. "Honourable? Do you know how much he paid to make sure that your name was kept out it all? Child A, that's all you were. Child! The same *child* who walked into my hotel with a trick to turn. I took nothing you hadn't already sold. Nothing!. Nothing very honourable about that, was there? Either of you. A whore and a whore's father."

"I was hungry," Apollo said, speaking with difficulty. He clung to the memory of Starbuck holding him, telling him it hadn't been his fault.

"And so was I, for a sweet-arsed kid who'd do it for money." Todd laughed again, and leaned forward to kiss Apollo. Although he hadn't spoken much since they'd got here, he'd several times come across to Apollo and kissed and fondled him. This time he slid a hand down over Apollo's stomach, and caressed the hardening prick.

"You taste of blood," he said, licking Apollo's chin, from ear to ear, little licks along the full line of the jaw.

"I'm bleeding." Apollo tried to control his physical reaction to being touched, to force the erection to dissipate. He thought about the pain, the cold, the fact he was likely to die. Anything. "You broke a rib or something."

"Poor sweet Angel." Todd's other hand was smoothing Apollo's thick hair. "Sweet, pretty Angel. Do you think you'll die?"

"We all will."

"Smart. Today? Do you think that you'll die today?"

"Probably," said Apollo with a tired sigh.

Todd grinned. "Yes. Probably. And do you know how you'll die?"

"Choking on my own blood, seems likely." Apollo was getting very tired now. Too tired to care very much.

"Very likely. I think you're right, Angel. I think I broke one of your ribs and it's cutting into a lung. You really shouldn't do anything to exert yourself, you know, anything energetic, or it'll be very nasty. But you're going to be very energetic. I'm going to fuck you to death, Angel. How does that sound?"

"A fate worse than death."

Todd laughed and his hand gave a little, possessive squeeze. "You're loving it. You always loved being fucked."

He sat back on his heels, taking his hand away. "But not quite yet. You're not playing your part, Angel."

"My part?"

"You're supposed to ask me what this is all about. So I can make my splendid speech."

"Oh." Apollo nodded. "I see. Like those bad Aquarian melodramas? Handsome hero bound hand and foot in the dark and cold dungeon listening to the villain explaining the plot to the dimmer portions of the audience? Better be careful, Todd. The hero always got the villain in the end, remember?"

"Being hero or villain depends on your point of view, Angel. Depends on your point of view."

A long silence while Todd thought about that and Apollo drifted, closing his eyes against the darkness, half stupefied by pain. He came to himself only when Todd was touching him again, lots of fleeting little kisses under his ear and down his throat that, for a micron, reminded him of Starbuck.

"I'll tell you anyway. Not because you're dim, but because I want to tell you before I let you die." Todd stroked Apollo's cheek almost tenderly. "When I escaped from Caprica, I had a new name, did the kid tell you?"

"Darus." Apollo said

"Yes. And soon after we set out on this epic journey of your father's, they asked for volunteers. Come and clean the Galactica, they said to us, for a pittance and a slightly better place to live than the smelly cargo ship you're living in now. So I did. Not for the pittance. That didn't matter. But because I knew who commanded the Galactica and I knew you'd be there too. I kept very quiet and still, you know, Angel. I did my job and lived my little life, and you rarely saw me and didn't recognise me when you did. You never knew that I was there. Sometimes they even assigned me to your quarters, did you know that? So I could touch your things, read your books, even jack off in your bed remembering what it was like to fuck you, and the noises you used to make and how fast you could move that hot little arse. And I'd have a good look to see what sort of man my sweet Angel had grown up to be."

"I hope I haven't been a disappointment," Apollo said.

"Well, we always expect too much of our children. Even of child A." Todd settled down beside Apollo, pulling him into his arms. Apollo bit back a groan as the movement hurt his chest and once again there was the taste of blood in his mouth. "Not very interesting until the day I realised that you and Starbuck were fucking each other senseless. Then I got to thinking about that. You remember what happened whenever you turned a trick?"

Apollo smiled very slightly. As if he would ever be able to forget. "You fucked me afterwards to remind me who owned me."

"That's my good boy! To remind you and get the right man's jism inside you. And there you were, screwing with Starbuck and never once remembering who owned you. Because I still do, sweet Angel. I still do. You never knew that I was there, but I owned you all the same. For two yahrens I've watched you and watched you. I've cleaned that office of yours, I've cleaned that bedroom where you fuck with Starbuck, I even cleaned the chapel the night before your wedding. I know you very well, Angel. The way a man ought to know his belongings."

Apollo said nothing. He was fast getting to the point where he wished that Todd would just get it over with.

"And after a while I started to remind you. And then I thought it would be fun to own the boy as well, and I watched him too, and talked to him now and again. Easy. I was enjoying the game, seeing you get so jittery every time you saw an angel."

"Is that why you only did it when I was around to see them?" Apollo roused himself to say. "There weren't any when I was in Life Centre with Starbuck."

"No point in wasting it on people I wasn't interested in." Todd shrugged.

"And Starbuck? Why hit Starbuck?"

"Angel! He was playing with something that belonged to me and hadn't paid!"

Apollo sighed.

Todd smiled and kissed him again. Apollo let him, not caring very much.

"But I enjoyed it, playing with you again. I had to clear up after myself once or twice, but I didn't care that much. I wanted to keep it going, watch you get more and more scared. I didn't want to take Boxey today. I'm not sure I would have done but for that message IFB put out that they pretended was from me. Who did that? You?"

"Bojay, I think.".

"Mmn. The sneaky little bastard might have done it, at that. He is not a nice boy for Child A to play with. Not a nice...." Todd broke off abruptly, tilting his head towards the sound he thought he'd heard.

Silence. Then it came again. The softest of footfalls.

"Damn. They're here. They got here too early." Todd pushed Apollo away, and scrambled to his feet. He had a small arsenal hidden away in there, and he checked it over hurriedly.

Apollo, suddenly hopeful, looked up, listening intently. He thought that he heard something too. But they needed to know he was there. They needed to know that he was inside this nest of crates.

Another small sound, the soft murmur of a voice. Still some distance away, across the hanger. Apollo couldn't shout: it was all he could do to get breath enough to talk to Todd. He didn't think he could shout.

Todd turned back towards him, a laser in his hand. "Not a sound, Angel. Or you die a lot faster." he said quietly

"I'm dying anyway, Todd, unless they stop the bleeding. What's it matter?"

Todd thought about that, then grinned, coming to a sudden decision. Time to end it. Time to end it for the Angel and himself.

"What indeed? Okay, Angel, let's tell them you're here. Let them find us. Only I don't want you sneaking up on me while we have the traditional stand-off and your father tries to persuade me to give up and let you go. I'll have to keep you still, somehow."

He reached for another weapon, something Apollo had never seen before. Kneeling down in front of Apollo he put the muzzle up against the younger man's left shoulder.

"This should do it," he said, and fired.

***

"We're not getting anywhere down here," Starbuck said quietly to Boomer. "We could be down here for sectons and not see any sign of him at all."

"He's here somewhere, old buddy." But Boomer looked at the enormous hanger they'd just entered, the hundreds of stacked storage boxes and sighed inwardly. "We'll find him."

Starbuck just shook his head, despondent. He'd given up hope long ago, when they'd found Boxey and realised just how alone and helpless Apollo was.

"I shouldn't have let him come down here alone," he said quietly, sitting on the edge of a crate to catch his breath. He put the laser rifle, so heavy now, muzzle down on the floor and leaned his aching head on the stock.

Boomer looked anxious. Starbuck had been so tireless, so unfailingly persistent in this long, dark search, that he'd forgotten that the Lieutenant had only been allowed out of Life Centre the day before. Now Starbuck was flagging, his exhaustion showing.

"You shouldn't be down here," he said. "Salik told you to take things easy."

Starbuck raised his head, his eyes wet. "He told me to avoid excitement, too. Fat chance." He rubbed at his eyes. "What'll I do, Boomer, if the bastard's wasted Pol?"

What will any of us do? Boomer thought, miserable and cold and as despairing as Starbuck. Despite his best efforts to stay cheerful, he thought that Apollo was dead, that they just might stumble on his body somewhere in this cold hellish place, but that Apollo was gone.

"Don't be daft," he said cheerfully. "Apollo will be fine, and we'll get him back, and you two will have some explaining to do to the OC after that kiss he gave you that everybody seems to know about already, and we'll celebrate like mad..." his voice trailed off and he hid a sigh. "But you really ought not to be doing this, Bucko. You're not well enough."

"I'm fine," Starbuck got up, and shouldered the rifle again. "I have to be here. We'd better keep going."

"Well, when you fall over don't expect me to carry you and I'm not going to be the one to explain to Apollo just what..." Boomer broke off as the message came through on their headsets.

"Kyle's got something!" Starbuck's voice cracked with strain. "Where the hell's the Commander? Kyle's got something."

***

"I'd rather be back with Boomer and Starbuck and the others," Cree said. "I'd like to tell them who this guy is."

"They'll have been told," Meade waved at Kyle and headed off towards the next search zone.

"I can't believe it's Darus. He was really good about helping sort out the mess in the storeroom on Beta after it got trashed."

"So sweet," Meade agreed sarcastically. "Bastard. How the hell could anyone take a kid like that? It's a miracle the Captain got him away."

She edged into the storeroom on Cree's heels, thinking of the tearful little boy she'd delivered to his aunt, the confidence with which Boxey said they would get back his father. She hoped that they would, that Apollo hadn't paid too dearly for getting Boxey out and that they got a chance at Darus. At Todd.

Cree looked around the hanger in disgust.. "Shit this place is enormous! You could hide the entire Cylon Empire down here and still take a secton to find it."

"Well, looking at it won't help. I'll take the right hand side. What about the stuff in the middle?"

Cree looked at the pile of crates and sighed. "Looks solid enough. Sing out if you find any way into the middle of it and we'll call up reinforcements."

They hesitated, naturally reluctant to be on their own, to separate even for a few centons in this dark, cold place. Although they'd die rather than admit it, they both felt vulnerable and young and scared, and half their desire to be back with Boomer and Starbuck and Jolly, was the feeling of children needing familiar adults around them to keep away the scary things that live in the dark. Kyle and the others were members of Blue, but not their own sub-squadron. They just didn't know them as well.

"We'd better get on with it," Meade said, reluctantly. "See you in a few centons."

"Take care," Cree said.

She gave him a tight grin. He'd said that half a dozen times now, each time they'd separated, and it was beginning to annoy her. She could look after herself, and she was twice the warrior he was. She promised herself that the next time he said it she'd club him down with the butt of her laser rifle, then she'd lean down and smile sweetly, and tell him to take care.....

There was a sharp, loud bang from the middle of the huge pile of crates. The long and terrible scream of agony followed so hard on it that the two startled, frightened ensigns could have sworn that it was one single, dreadful sound.

***

"You'd better let me go," Hallam's voice was quiet. "I'm the only foot soldier here, and I'm the only one trained for this. I was still on active service until three yahrens ago. I've not forgotten how to do this."

"I'm going," Starbuck said determinedly. The story Cree and Meade had told them had him shaking with anguish and terror. His Pol was in there somewhere. Pol had been screaming in there somewhere. He just had to get in there.

"You're staying right here with me." Adama said. He didn't have to look at Starbuck to know how exhausted the Lieutenant was.

The look he gave Hallam weighed the man up, considered him, approved of him. Adama glanced at Reese, who'd just joined them from level 19. Reese nodded.

"I'll be in your debt, Hallam." Adama said.

"But I've got to go," Starbuck's voice rose with panic.

Adama put a strong hand on his shoulder. "You're staying here with me, or you go back up top to Life Centre. Your call, son."

"But...."

"Shut up, Starbuck," Boomer pulled him away and put his arms around him comfortingly. "Let Hallam handle this."

"I won't get too close," Hallam said, as Castor joined them. "This guy'll be edgy enough."

Castor opened the case he was carrying and lifted out a tiny self-propelled camera. "Used a remote before?"

Hallam nodded. "Infiltration missions, mostly."

Castor shot him a look of respect. "Then I don't have to run through how to use this." He handed Hallam the control pad and looked around the shadowy corridor. "It's keyed to transmit back to our hand-held computers. Light's not too good."

"I'll try normal light then switch it to infra-red." Hallam tucked the camera into a pocket. He turned to the Commander. "I won't put the Captain at risk, but if I get the chance of a clear shot at this guy, I'll take it. I'd better make it clear that I'll shoot to kill and I won't give him any warning. We can't afford that if we want to get Apollo out alive."

"Fine by me," Reese said indifferently. "The Prison Barge is a bit crowded as it is."

Under other circumstances Adama might have protested, but this was his son and time was most definitely running out. He didn't think it was Todd who'd been screaming.

"Whatever it takes, Hallam. Good luck."

Hallam nodded and slid around the door and into the hanger beyond. Adama watched him go, then turned to look at Starbuck's tired, sullen face. He put an arm around him.

"I'm sorry," Starbuck said. "It's just.." He broke off and ducked his head as the tears stung his eyes again.

"I know," Adama said and hugged Starbuck to him for a micron. "Anything yet, Jordan?"

"Not yet. He'll be as fast as he can be without alerting Darus. Todd, I mean." Jordan watched the flickering screen avidly, not looking up. A couple of centons passed. "Something's coming through..."

Adama, Reese and Starbuck crowded round him. Boomer got himself beside Castor and watched on the sergeant's computer screen. But the little remote floating silently in the vast hanger behind them showed very little. There were deep shadows, amorphous shapes in the dim light, nothing that was easy to make out. They couldn't be certain of what they saw.

"Walls?" Castor said doubtfully.

"Crates, I think," Jordan said. "I think he's got it moving into the stack."

The remote came to what was an indisputable crate, and floated up and over it. Hallam kept it at the higher level, kept it moving deeper into the stack. The remote caught a movement. Triggered to react to that, it floated towards what had caught the attention of its sensor. A shadow moving in more shadows. That was all.

"Switching to infra red." Hallam's voice whispered in the earpieces of their headsets.

Two somethings, glowing in the darkness. Two human shapes.

"They're there," Hallam whispered.

"They're both there," Starbuck said in heartfelt relief. "Pol's still there."

He was shaking badly. Adama's arm around his shoulders tightened, but the Commander said nothing, not as relieved or as hopeful as the Lieutenant. No-one felt like reminding Starbuck how long bodies took to cool, even in this cold place. More than twenty centons after Meade and Cree had heard the screaming, and Apollo was still there. Whether he was still alive was a little more debatable.

Hallam closed the remote down. "This is useless. Wait. I'm going in a bit closer to take a look."

It was ten agonising centons before the tech ghosted silently through the door and rejoined them in the corridor.

"Well?" Adama demanded.

"They're definitely in there, inside the stack. The stack's hollow, like a series of three rooms, all interconnecting. They're in the innermost one. There's only one way in, about half way down the port side of the stack. It's pretty narrow at first before it opens out into the first of the "rooms". Very defensible. He could hold us off for days."

"Apollo?" Starbuck asked, white faced.

"How far in did you get?" Adama asked at the same micron.

"I went in over the top. I couldn't see Todd - he was immediately below me and I didn't dare try and work my way around in case he heard me. Those crates are not all that securely stacked, and I could have brought one down. We'll have to be damn careful when we move in."

"Apollo?" Starbuck asked again, and this time Hallam couldn't avoid answering.

"I could see him. I'm sorry, Starbuck. I couldn't tell if he's still alive. But it doesn't look good. He wasn't moving and there's a hell of a lot of blood."

Starbuck looked away quickly. "Thanks," he said thickly.

"I'm sorry," the tech said again. He looked around at the warriors. Even in the shadowy gloom, he could see their anger and grief.

"Then we get him." Jolly said, and for once the big Lieutenant did not live up to his name. For once he looked quietly murderous.

The other warriors murmured agreement, and more than one looked hurriedly down at his or her boots to hide their expressions. Boomer's brown eyes filled with tears. Bree was crying openly.

Like Starbuck, Adama had looked away so that no-one could see his face. For a centon he had that sick feeling of terror in the pit of his stomach that he'd never felt in battle, but that he had felt sixteen yahrens before when he'd got the hysterical call from Ila to tell him that his son was missing, and which didn't leave him for over six sectars. His hands were shaking badly, but his voice, when he spoke, was steady and authoritative.

"How do we do this, Hallam? You're the expert."

"We don't have time for elaborate planning, and I've always found the simplest things work the best. I'd suggest that half a dozen of us go in over the back. We can get in over the crates while the rest of you draw his attention at the front, where the entrance to the room is. Once we're in above him, I should be able to get a clear shot at him."

Adama nodded. "Boomer, Giles, Greenbean, to go with you. The rest stay with me."

"Castor and Steffan and me with Hallam," Reese said firmly. The Commander seemed to be forgetting that this was a Security operation.

The Commander was indifferent to anything but the terrible fear for his son. He didn't care who went with Hallam.

"As you wish, Reese. But Hallam has command."

Reese grunted something that Adama chose to take as acquiescence.

"I need a gun," Adama said, although he hadn't personally fired a laser in anger for yahrens.

"Here," Starbuck held out a laser. "It's Pol's."

Starbuck was having a hard time holding it together. Hallam hadn't been sure that Pol was dead. There was still some hope. Still a little bit of hope. Starbuck clung to that and didn't argue about who made the assault on the little roofless room in the crate stack where Todd was holding Apollo. He knew that he wasn't up to a scramble over the stacked crates.

"Thank you." Adama pushed the laser into his belt. "We'll need to give you a few centons start, Hallam."

"Ten." Hallam said. "We go now. "

He led the way, followed by his small team. Boomer briefly touched Starbuck's shoulder as he passed, his expression grieved. Adama watched them go then turned to the rest of the warriors.

"Lieutenant Kyle, please call Life Centre and have them get a medtech down here as fast as they can do it. Work out the fastest way of getting them here and your team to act as escort."

"Done, sir." Kyle signalled to his team to fall back, not noticing that Cree and Meade were sticking with the Commander.

"Jolly, you're in command of this team. Starbuck..."

"I'm staying," Starbuck said dully.

"Yes. Stay close to me, Starbuck."

Starbuck nodded. "We shouldn't have let him come down here."

"If he hadn't, Boxey would still be here, and God alone knows what that man would have done to him. Apollo would never have allowed that to happen. He'd never have forgiven himself."

"Did you?" Starbuck asked abruptly.

"No," Adama said quietly, sadly. "Never. I was out here on the Rycon. I wasn't at home on Caprica when he needed me and nothing I ever do will wipe that out. Whatever we find in that stack, Apollo was there when Boxey needed him. He won't have that failure to live with, and believe me, it's hard."

"He doesn't blame you." Starbuck told him. "He doesn't blame you at all."

"I blame myself." Adama shook his head impatiently. "I always will."

***

"Time to go." Adama said at last. Never had ten centons passed so slowly.

"Quiet or openly?" Jolly asked, marshalling the warriors.

"We go in openly. That way we might distract him enough so that he won't notice Hallam. Let's go."

A glance around, nods to wish each other good luck, and the warriors filed into the store chamber behind Adama and Starbuck. The place was enormous, their footsteps echoing back from walls and the crate stack in the centre. As he followed Adama into the narrow roofless tunnel that wormed its way into the stack, Starbuck glanced up to the ceiling fifteen metres above him. Far up in the shadows he could just make out the overhead rails and gantries that shifted this stuff around. It reminded him of the hangers on Alpha and Beta decks, but that there were no sleek little Vipers parked in the racks above his head. It was just as cold and shadowy, and as inhuman in scale.

The tunnel widened out into the first of the three "rooms" and Adama moved more slowly and cautiously as they walked across it, hunting for the narrow corridor on the other side. Once they reached the end of that corridor and in the second room, they'd be under whatever weapons Todd had with him.

Adama paused for a micron at the mouth of the corridor, looking out across the second of the rooms. For that micron he was afraid: once he stepped out, Todd could cut him down before he had the chance to move. Then he thought of Apollo, and how little time they might have, and he walked on.

"Hello Adama," Todd said quietly.

"Todd." Adama came to a halt, his voice as quiet and calm as Todd's.

"Darus, these days, as I'm sure you know. I don't suppose you're alone? No, I thought not. I'd advise anyone else with you to stay back, or they could get severely damaged."

"Do what he says," Adama said to Starbuck and the others. Then to Todd: "Apollo?"

"Oh, the Angel's a little hung up at the moment," Todd said, and laughed softly. "Wings clipped, if you see what I mean, to make sure he doesn't get in the way."

Adama heard his voice coming from a long way away, and wondered who was using his mouth to speak. "Is he dead?"

"Well, he wasn't a few centons ago when I was playing with him. I don't suppose he'll last long, though, Adama. I thought you'd come for him yourself."

"Oh God," Adama heard Starbuck breathe behind him, but concentrated all of his attention on the man hidden somewhere ahead of him.

"I'd come for him from hell itself, Todd. I thought you'd have remembered that."

"I don't forget anything, Adama. I don't forget how you had me put away for ten yahrens. Ten yahrens! For that little whore!"

"I didn't make the law, Todd." Adama bit back the anger and fear, keeping his voice even and quiet.

"You had me locked up with some of the worst the Colonies had: murders, thieves, psychopaths. And they all thought that they were better than me, that there was some moral gulf between me and them, because of the label you had put on me. You called me a paedophile, Adama. Now that wasn't nice."

"Apollo was only thirteen, Todd. I didn't make the label. The law did."

"In the end I spent it all in solitary, to keep them from tearing me apart. Ten yahrens on my own, Adama. That's a long, long time. I spent a lot of it thinking about how I was going to get back at you. And when I got here.... man, you were in reach at last. I thought that all I had to do was wait for my chance. I thought I'd got it all worked out. I figured nothing would hurt you more than me getting back what was mine, getting back what I owned. I was going to keep the Angel, Adama, but I'd have let you have the kid back, Adama - another little Child A for you to live with."

"Apollo stopped you." Adama said with heartfelt thankfulness.

"Well, he paid for it."

"And I won't let you keep Apollo, Todd. There's no way out for you. So we'd better talk. My life for Apollo's, is that the trade?"

"Your life?" Todd sounded slightly puzzled. "Why? I don't want you dead. Lord no! What's the point of that? I want you alive, Adama. In fact, I wanted you to live forever, all the time knowing you'd been too late to stop me getting at the kid and taking the Angel with me. Now that's what I call revenge. But he spoiled that. Not so sweet now he's grown up, the Angel. Not so sweet at all."

"Then if you've failed in that, Todd, why bother to continue with this? Let's talk about getting Apollo out of there, and what you want in exchange."

"I won't give up what's mine. Is Starbuck there?"

"I'm here," Starbuck pushed out past Jolly, to join Adama. "What do you want, Todd?"

"Mmn, I bet you were sweet too, Starbuck. Can't you say thank you? He's pretty good in bed, don't you think? All the training I gave him. You should be grateful."

"Oh I am, I am." Starbuck kept his voice from trembling. "I'd be even more grateful if you gave him back, Todd."

"And how grateful is that? Grateful enough to come back here and prove it?"

"Yes," Starbuck said steadily and instantly. "Trade him for me, Todd."

"I might just think about it." Todd said, and laughed again. "He's pretty far gone. Not much fun screwing them when they're that far gone, but you seem lively enough, despite the little tap on the head I gave you."

"Very lively," Starbuck agreed, and took a step forward, shaking off the hand Adama put out to stop him. "Shall I come back there and prove it, Todd? I could do it any way you like it."

Behind Todd, Apollo came up out of the darkness. For an eternity he had been slumped against the crate, the pain in his shoulder unbelievable. He had never felt anything like it before. He had never before realised that pain could become the whole world.

For a few centons after Todd had shot him, he wondered if this was what dying felt like: the agony and the shortness of breath, the feeling of being fixed, immovable. Then he had realised that he *was* fixed. Skewered to the crate, like a piece of meat pinned to a butcher's board. He'd raised his aching hands to his left shoulder. Something hard, metallic, had gone all the way through, spiking him to the wooden crate. His fingers could feel the wetness of blood. A lot of it.

After that there was just pain and darkness, in almost equal measure.

Sometimes Todd had been there beside him, very close, holding him, stroking his cheek and talking to him, the voice that had haunted him for yahrens coming and going through the drifting dark. And sometimes he'd felt Todd's hands on him, stroking, caressing, touching, and the feel of Todd's mouth on his. And he heard Todd's promise that he'd be there when his Angel died, to take his last breath with a kiss.

No breath to protest. No strength to resist. Just pain and darkness, Todd's voice and hands.

Then other voices. Todd, louder, angry and bitter. His father, reasoned and calm, cajoling, trying to persuade, negotiating, hiding his terrible fear.

And Starbuck.

Starbuck? That was Starbuck's voice. More than anything, that got through. Barely able to focus, Apollo looked towards Todd, seeing him in the dim light, standing alert and ready at the entrance to this place. Talking to someone. Talking to Starbuck?

He heard Todd laugh, heard the lewd, obscene description of what Todd would do to Starbuck when he came in to join them. And heard Starbuck's voice saying yes, right now Todd. Anything you like Todd, if you let the Commander take Apollo out of here.

Todd and Starbuck? But Starbuck didn't know what Todd could do, how much he could and would hurt and maim. Starbuck couldn't begin to imagine how bad sex with Todd was. He had to stop Starbuck. He had to.

Somehow Apollo managed to shift so that he fell forward, his weight dragging the spike free of the crate. Somehow, too, clenched his jaw and managed not to scream, although the fire in his shoulder was almost too much to bear. He had to stay quiet. He had to. Pain was there to remind him he was still alive, to be borne in silence if he wanted to save Starbuck.

Struggling to his knees, choking down the sobs in his throat, he looked round helplessly for a weapon. Anything. But his hands were useless, fingers too painful and swollen to hold a laser. He looked down at them, still in the binders, in grim despair.

Intent on his conversation with Starbuck, Todd had almost forgotten about Apollo, confident that the Angel was safely skewered to the crate. He didn't turn to look at him, didn't see or hear his sweet Angel fight to get to his feet. He saw and heard nothing until there was the sudden tightness of a chain around his throat as Apollo threw his hands over Todd's head and pulled back as hard as he could, trying to choke the life out of him.

Todd squealed, his finger tightening on the trigger of his laser as he dropped it to clutch with both hands at the chain of the binders, blasting through the crates. He tore frantically at the thin chain cutting into his throat.

Apollo grunted with the effort, got his knee into the small of Todd's back and leaned backwards, letting his weight do the work for him. The pain belonged to someone else, not him. To the Angel, not Apollo.

"Pol? Pol!"

"Apollo!"

There were frightened yells from outside, the sound of people rushing toward him, someone else dropping down into the space behind him. He ignored it all, concentrating on pretending that there was no pain in his hands, that it was the Angel's hands that hurt, not his.

Hallam was the first to reach him. The chain was lost in the folds of Todd's neck, the man's face purple-red with congestion. He was making foul choking sounds, spittle on his mouth, his fingers tearing at his throat to try and get at the chain.

"Let him go, Apollo," Hallam said his tone quiet and compelling, knowing that it would be hard to get through to the Captain. "Let him go. It's all over. We've got him."

Adama and Starbuck raced in together, Jolly and the rest of the warriors hard on their heels.

"Let him go," Hallam said, staring into the glassy green eyes. "Let him go. You don't want to kill him, son. Let him go."

For a micron it didn't seem that Apollo heard him, but his grip on Todd loosened and as the man fell away, still choking and clutching at his mangled throat, Apollo focused on them, realised who they were. His legs gave way, and Starbuck leapt forward to catch him, helped Adama lower him to his knees and got down to kneel beside him, holding him against his chest.

"Pol," he said, voice trembling. He was kissing Apollo's hair and face in frantic relief, barely able to believe that Apollo was still alive. "Oh Pol..."

"Hold that bastard." Hallam said sharply to the warriors and security who were crowding into the room. He seemed to be having some trouble with his laser, glancing down at it and hitting the power pack with the palm of his hand before leaping across to help them hold Todd, catching the man in a painful arm lock.

"Hold him still," Jordan said urgently to Starbuck, ignoring Todd, struggling to get an emergency medical pack open. He looked at Apollo's shoulder in horror. "Geez! What a fucking mess.."

At Reese's barked command, the warriors and security guards backed off to leave a space around Todd and to give Adama and Jordan room to see to Apollo. They looked on in a mix of horror and relief. Apollo was alive, but he looked dreadful, covered in blood.

"How is it?" Giles asked fearfully.

"Shit," Greenbean stared in disbelief and anxiety.

"Dear God," Adama whispered, ignoring what was happening with Todd. "God, there's so much blood."

The left side of Apollo's battledress was soaked with blood, front and back. Blood was still seeping out past the thin steel spike in his shoulder.

"Oh Pol," Starbuck said, getting both arms around him.

"Boxey?" Apollo barely had breath enough to form the word, hyperventilating as he went into shock, but the terror and fear came through.

"We've got him safe, Apollo. He's safe. He's with Athena. Todd didn't touch him." Adama spoke with as much authority as he could muster. He was stroking his son's bruised face comfortingly, unaware that Todd had been doing the same thing, much less comfortingly, only centons before.

Apollo looked at him doubtfully, still frightened for his son's safety, then nodded, and managed a slight little grin for Starbuck. For a micron his eyes closed as another bout of giddiness hit him.

"He's losing it," Starbuck said anxiously. "Can't you get that thing out?"

"No." Jordan said, sharp with anxiety. "Pull that out and he'll bleed to death. It's keeping him alive at the moment, that and the cold."

"It goes all the way through," someone said in sick disbelief. The metal spike had to be a foot long.

Jordan was scowling as he probed gently at the wound. "Bastard used a rivet gun."

"A rivet gun?" Adama looked sick. "For repairing steel plates?"

Jordan nodded, concentrating on getting the bleeding stopped. "Must have been a reduced charge. Otherwise it would have torn his arm off."

Adama smoothed back Apollo's hair with hands that were shaking with relief, and anguish, and anger at what Todd had done. He saw the binders on Apollo's hands. "He's in manacles. Key?"

"Here." Castor had been searching the still-choking Todd.

Boomer grabbed the key and raced to join them. "Geez," he said, taking in the damage to Apollo's hands. He took them gingerly in his, and pointed the key at the electronic lock. "This'll hurt, Apollo."

"It all hurts," Apollo said, forcing open his eyes and fighting off the dizziness, trying to stay with them. But this time he didn't try to hold back the cry of pain as the binders loosened and blood rushed back into his hands. This was one pain too many."

"It's all right, love. It's all right." Starbuck said soothingly. "Everything'll be all right."

Boomer eased off the binders, trying not to hurt Apollo's hands any more than he had to. Apollo coughed and blood filled his mouth again.

"We can't wait for that medic," Jordan said, seeing the bright red blood bubbling at the corner of Apollo's mouth. "He's bleeding internally as well. We'd better get him up top as fast as we can."

"Oh God," Starbuck breathed, giving Adama an anguished look.

"Can't walk," Apollo said, apologetic.

"Not without your boots," Starbuck said, trying to sound cheerful. "Still, you're the only man I've ever known who looks sexy in socks."

"I'll carry you, little son," Adama said gently.

Apollo nodded. He raised a mutilated hand to touch Starbuck's face and this time when the darkness and dizziness swept over him, he didn't fight it. He sighed and dropped gratefully into it. His head drooped onto Starbuck's shoulder and he was suddenly limp and heavy in the Lieutenant's hold

"Pol!"

"He's all right. He'll be fine, as soon as we get him to Life Centre." Jordan spoke with more confidence than he felt. He was studying the schematics. "Turbolifts 11 and 12 are about two hundred metres away. We'd better get moving. Be careful when you lift him."

"Nooo! You can't take him away again!" Todd's voice was a hoarse, pain-filled whisper.

He kicked backwards, apparently catching Hallam by surprise. Freeing himself from Hallam's grip, Todd caught the old trooper's gun and took a wavering step forward.

"Commander!" Hallam yelled a warning.

Adama spun round, his hand jerking the laser from his belt. For someone who hadn't used a gun for a long time, he moved fast. Very fast. There wasn't any thought, just instinct, the instinct of a father fighting to defend and protect his son. He brought the weapon up and shot Todd full in the chest.

Adama felt a surge of satisfaction, something the civilised part of him recognised as primeval and ugly, but nevertheless something he exulted in as Todd fell against the crates of the far wall, thrown off his feet from the force of the blast. For a micron the contorted body twitched, then lay deathly still.

There was a centon's shocked silence. Everyone was staring, looking from the Commander to the still body slumped against the wall. Only Starbuck, after one glance, turned his attention back to murmuring comforting, loving words to Apollo, not caring that Apollo couldn't hear him. Hallam grinned to himself and nodded, satisfied. Castor was the first to move, racing across to kneel down beside Todd.

Adama stared at the body of the man who had damaged the bright, energetic child beyond repair, then down at the laser in his hand, an expression of slight surprise on his face, as if he didn't really believe he'd just killed a man. He dropped the laser and turned away, back to Apollo. Hallam looked at Jolly, nearest to him, and nodded towards the laser. Whilst everyone's attention was on Castor and Todd, Jolly calmly bent down and pocketed the evidence. He and Hallam grinned at each other.

"Dead," Castor said, tone neutral.

The looks the warriors were giving their Commander were deeply respectful, admiring.

"Good," Boomer said savagely, remembering the awful state of the hands he'd held in his. "I wish I'd been the one to do it."

"Bloody good shot," Meade agreed from the doorway, through the muted cheers and relieved laughter.

Castor gave Hallam a very knowing look. "I thought you were holding him."

"Must have dropped him. Oops." Hallam said. He retrieved his laser and casually replaced the power-pack he'd palmed centons earlier. He met Adama's eyes and smiled thinly. "Sorry, Commander."

Adama shook his head, realising that Todd had effectively been unarmed. He might spend the next few sectars and yahrens begging his God's forgiveness, but he knew that even if he'd known that Todd's laser had been useless, he'd still have fired. And there was something so very satisfying about using Apollo's gun to do it.

"Don't be." he said. "I've wanted to do that for sixteen yahrens."

He looked round at his warriors, saw the understanding and support. So far as they were concerned the bastard who'd hurt Apollo deserved it.

Reese looked back at him and shrugged. "Self defence," he said. "Clear cut case."

Hallam just grinned and nodded.

"Let's get Apollo out of here." Adama said, and bent down to lift his son into his arms.

***

"False alarm"? Adama asked breathlessly as he came to a halt by the narrow bed in Life Centre. Despite the message that Apollo was recovering consciousness, when he got there his son was still lying relaxed and quiet, eyes closed.

"Naw. He was really awake this time. Only for a micron or two, but he knew it was me, then he went back to sleep." Starbuck was sitting at the other side of the bed, one of Apollo's hands in his. A thought struck him and he looked at the Commander in consternation. "You don't think that I bore him, do you? The he's so bored he'd rather sleep?"

Adama stroked Apollo's cheek gently. The bruises were fading now, but he still looked a sorry-looking object. Adama looked up and smiled at Starbuck.

"I don't think so for a centon, and neither do you. Apollo. Apollo! Come on, little son. Wake up."

"You have a choice here, beautiful." Starbuck added his cubit's worth. "Either you wake up and talk to us like a rational being - none of that mumbled nonsense we got this morning - or it's the cold sponge."

Adama looked pained. "Starbuck, I'm really very relaxed about you and Apollo, you know, but spare me the details of what you get up to together." And in response to Starbuck's bewildered look, he sighed and said: "All right. I give in. What *do* you do with the sponge?"

"Wake him up with it, of course. What did you think?"

"Nothing. Nothing at all." Adama turned hurriedly back to his son. "Apollo. Please wake up."

"Am awake," Apollo mumbled, forcing open heavy eyes.

"At last!" Starbuck said, delighted, and bent over him for a kiss. "Stay with us this time, okay?"

"Okay," Apollo said sleepily. He lay quiet for a few centons as Adama and Starbuck vied with each other to hug him and welcome him back, smiling at them vaguely while he tried to remember what was happening and who and where he was. The memory was not a reassuring one. The smile vanished.

"Boxey?" he said in alarm. Todd had Boxey! "Where's Boxey?"

"He's fine," Adama said soothingly. "You got him away. He's all right, Apollo. Not a mark on him, and Todd didn't touch him. Remember?"

"Oh. Oh, yeah." Apollo felt slightly faint with relief and thankfulness, and he closed his eyes for a micron. "You're sure he's okay?"

"I promise. He was scared, that's all, Apollo, and he's worrying about you, but he wasn't hurt, and Salik's been incredibly good with him and started some counselling. He's doing just fine." Adama looked into his son's anxious green eyes and grinned. "Something tells me I'm about to go and persuade his teacher to let him out of school for the rest of the day. Would that convince you?"

Apollo nodded. "Please. I want to see him."

"All right." Adama hugged Apollo gently, got to his feet and headed for the door. "I'll be back as soon as I can. Don't tire him, Starbuck.

"I won't," Starbuck said, and grinned down at his lover. He snatched another kiss. "And how do you feel?"

Apollo thought about it. Both his hands were aching badly, and when he looked at them, they were still grotesquely swollen and encased in clear plastic supports that ran from the middle joint of his fingers to his elbows. Beneath the supports his hands and fingers were purple with bruising. There was a dull pain in his left shoulder and his left arm felt strangely heavy and useless. But he could breathe easier and the pain was bearable.

He smiled at Starbuck. "Not too bad. I'm still here."

"Good, because you've given us an exciting few days. Something, I'd like to remind you, that Salik said I should avoid."

"Fun?"

"Let's say that Salik's spent the last few days in open-mouthed astonishment that anyone could have lost so much blood and still be breathing," Starbuck said brightly, and hid from Apollo the days and nights of fear and anxiety that he and Adama had spent. "You've probably made medical history."

Starbuck was barely exaggerating. By the time they'd got Apollo back up to level 4, all the excitement had come from their efforts to stop him from dying from massive blood loss from the huge wound in his shoulder. He'd been in deep shock when they'd met up with the medical team, half way to Life Centre. Appalled at the state Apollo was in, Salik had bundled him into a life-support pod for the remainder of the short journey, seriously concerned that he'd lose him before they could get him into surgery. Luckily Athena, forewarned, had got Boxey out of the way and he was spared the sight of his father still in the blood-drenched battledress and looking as if he were more than half dead. Salik had started the transfusions almost the micron they arrived, taking blood direct from Boomer, the first of over twenty transfusions needed to get Apollo through surgery. He'd been in intensive care for the first two days, seriously ill, but Salik had been cautiously confident that he could pull him through. Even so, things had been more than ordinarily dramatic.

All that Starbuck said was: "And you're now full blood-brother to half your pilots. The OC was queuing up to donate blood for you. You'll be fine, Pol. The supports come off your hands in a few days, and though it might be while before you can use that shoulder properly, you'll be fine. Despite doing your best impression of a dying duck to scare us all."

"Glad I missed it." Apollo said. He sighed, and asked, reluctantly :" Todd?"

"Dead. Your Dad killed him. Things got a bit exciting there, too."

"Oh." Apollo thought about that and nodded. "What happened?"

"Well, somehow he got free of the man holding him and tried to shoot you. Your Dad was faster, is all. In fact, your Dad's a bit of hero in the OC at the moment. Fastest gun in the Fleet."

"That's what fathers are for." Apollo smiled slightly. "That'll make him feel better about things, I expect. Stop him blaming himself."

"Smart as well as pretty, I see."

"Yeah," Apollo said, but the smile was fading. "Does everyone know now?"

Starbuck sighed inwardly. This would need careful handling.

"They had to be told something about what this was all about. All they know, and all they will ever know, is that Todd assaulted you when you were a kid and went to prison for it."

Apollo sighed.

"Pol, I know what you're worrying about but all they felt about it was so mad that every single one of them volunteered to come down to find you. The same way everyone who could was queuing up to give blood for you. So far as they're concerned, Todd got what he deserved, only sixteen yahrens later than he deserved it."

"But they know.."

"And the most important thing to them wasn't what happened when you were a kid, but that you were in trouble and they were desperate to help." Starbuck over-rode whatever Apollo was going to say. "Now, I grant you that even the little they do know is a lot more than you'd like, Pol, but it's not too bad. What happened sixteen yahrens ago is over and done with so far as they're concerned. For some reason, they think the world of you, you know and have too much respect for you to want to talk about it. Bojay tried to stir it once, but he got well and truly kicked by the entire OC. Everyone believes that he sent that message to IFB, and no-one's talking to him. Sheba refuses to fly with him."

"She's okay, really," Apollo said absently, while he tried to work out whether he was as upset as he thought he ought to be about them knowing.

"She is. I was only jealous when I thought that you were going to get it together with her. As soon as I realised it was my beautiful body you wanted and not hers, I was cool about her." Starbuck watched him carefully, hoping that Apollo could learn to live with everyone knowing even this much of his past. The anguished, painful confession was still very fresh in his memory, and he was scared that Apollo wouldn't be able to cope.

In the end, Apollo sighed. "I wish no-one but us knew, but I suppose you're right, and it's not too bad. Better than if he'd come to trial. He wouldn't have hesitated to let everyone know exactly what I was."

"Drugged and abused, is what you were, my love, and don't you forget it." Starbuck said firmly.

"I suppose," Apollo said, and sighed again.

Another long silence.

"Okay?" Starbuck asked at last, leaning down to press his cheek against Apollo's.

"I guess." A pause, then more firmly: "Yes. I think I am okay. It was funny seeing him again. He looked so...so small and scraggy... When I was a kid he seemed so strong and powerful, and he scared me half to death. But once I'd got Boxey away from him, he couldn't really hurt me."

"No?" Starbuck said with a significant glance at the broken hand cradled in his own.

"Not in the way he used to hurt me. He wasn't as scary and powerful as I thought. I beat him. I won in the end."

Starbuck nodded, satisfied. Apollo would be all right. After all, Starbuck would be there to keep telling him that he was all right.

Apollo changed the subject. "How long have I been in here?"

"Five days."

"Five days? Lord. What else has been happening?"

"Not much. We've all been sitting about waiting for you to condescend to wake up. Oh, and everyone knows about us now."

Apollo gave him what can only be described as A Look. "Really? And how did that happen?"

Starbuck Looked right back. "Cast back your mind to your melodramatic little departure for the nether regions of this ship, Pol. Who was it that flung himself on me and came over all unnecessary - in front of witnesses, yet! I don't *mind* being kissed that passionately, but I prefer a bit of privacy while it's happening."

"Oh. Yeah." Apollo conceded.

"Yeah. So now, sweetheart, you're going to have that little talk with Boxey."

"Boxey knows too?"

Starbuck nodded, grinning.

"Oh boy." Apollo sighed, dreading it. "Maybe Salik will say I'm too sick," he added hopefully.

"Not a chance - I thought you might try that game ploy, and I got it covered. Salik's on my side. I got you something. I had a look through the ship's library and found you this." Starbuck put a reader on the bed. "*Asking questions about sex: the answers every parent should know* Not the snappiest title in the world, but it might help. I read it myself. They don't get it too wrong. Bits of it sounded fun, in fact, and we might try them out when you're feeling better. And it might help Boxey get the terminology right."

"Terminology?"

"Yep. He's spent the last five days going round telling everyone who'll listen - that's most of the Fleet - that I'm his Dad's boyfriend. Boyfriend! Boyfriends are aged sixteen and spotty! You've got to explain to him that I don't do boyfriends. I only do lovers."

"Plural?" Apollo asked.

"Oh no. Singular. Very singular." Starbuck leaned down and kissed him again. "The one and only love, Pol."

"Dad!" The screech came from the small boy bursting through the doorway to throw himself onto the bed to cling to his father with arms and legs. "Dad!"

"Careful!" Adama said quickly. "Your Dad's just woken up, Boxey.."

"He's all right." Apollo managed to get his right arm around his son, holding him clumsily.. "Hello. You okay?"

"Now that you are," Boxey hugged his father tightly. "I was awfully scared, Dad."

"So was I, but everything's all right now. I'm proud of you for doing exactly what I told you to do. Well done."

"Starbuck says I'm an unnaturally good and obedient child, and it's all your fault."

"Starbuck says a lot of things." Apollo said dryly. He grinned at his lover over Boxey's head.

"I know." Boxey said indulgently. "Are you better, Dad? Are you coming home?"

"Not just yet," Adama said, smoothing his son's hair lovingly. "He needs a few days rest in here and then he'll need looking after."

"I can do that. I can stay home from school and do that."

"Dream on," Boxey's father said, very firmly.

Boxey sighed and looked to Starbuck for guidance.

"You rushed the timing a bit," Starbuck told him. "What have I told you about slow, careful build ups?"

"Did you put him up to that?" Apollo asked.

"I'm merely an adviser," Starbuck said with dignity. "I do not instigate."

"Well, if I can't stay home to look after you, Starbuck could do it if he came to live with us. Couldn't he?"

Apollo smiled. "He could. Would you like him to come and live with us?"

Boxey nodded. "It'll be cool."

Apollo's smile widened. "We'll have to see about it then." He looked at Starbuck. "Did you advise that too?"

"Well, I might have hinted." Starbuck looked pointedly at the reader. "I think we ought to leave you to it for a while."

"Why?" Adama asked, as he was pulled towards the door.

"It's time for The Talk," Starbuck explained. "Father-son stuff. Did you want witnesses when you were answering little Innocent's questions about where Thenie and Zac came from?"

"Good Lord, no!"

"And I bet you stuck to the birds and the bees, not the bees and the bees stuff Pol's about to explain. Aren't you, Pol?"

"Apparently." Apollo sighed, still dreading it.

"Can't I stay and listen in?" Adama said wistfully.

"Why? Don't you know it already?" Starbuck paused in the door. He remembered the sponge and gave Adama a cheeky grin. "Maybe not, after all. And Pol, if you tell him that making love with me is "all right", you and me will have words. Understood?"

It wasn't often that Apollo got the last word. But he managed it then.

"Starbuck! As if I'd say anything of the sort!"

"Good."

"No, I'd never say that. Honest I wouldn't. I'll just tell him that it's very nice, thank you."

The End.