“What the hell are we even doing, Kara,” Lee asks her, late one night (or morning, or midday, who the fuck knows anymore), lying on the floor of the abandoned barracks because they’re all too flat out exhausted to make it into a bunk.

She feels the heat of him, so near even as he’s drifting away, further away into wherever it is Lee Adama goes to get away from cylons and explosions and lives lost; feels the weight of Helo, sprawled half across her legs in sleep, one hand clinging to her ankle like a lifeline, and surprises both of them by giggling, giddy laughter spilling over until her abs ache with the effort of containing it.

“Buying a little more time for us to do this, I guess,” she says, once she can control herself, though his baffled expression threatens to set her off again; she grabs his hand before it can happen, pressing his knuckles to her lips and winking, and gets the satisfaction of watching the smallest of smiles creep over him in return; maybe all he has to say is, “You’re ridiculous,” but he’ll keep believing because of it, just a little longer.