Disclaimer: Don't own Battlestar Galatica or it's character simply this storyline. Dialogue in italics was borrowed from the Galactica miniseries.

AN: So, this started out as a drabble under 500 words and somehow morphed into this. The prompt that inspired that drabble is still included in this. This oneshot takes place in season 1 following the events of "You Can't Go Home Again".

Prompt: Edward Monclair - "I have made a tremendous error in judgement and I have a confession to make." - 'When Calls the Heart'

"Thank-you, chief," Captain Lee Adama said as Tyrol finished giving him the current status report for the Vipers. The search and rescue mission fro Kara had been hell on the fighters but at least now they had alert fighters fueled and ready to go. He also had all of his pilots back on board. He was happy about that but now that things were returning to the status quo it also meant he wouldn't be able to push feelings aside while he concentrated on work for much longer.

Lee returned the chief's salute before watching the man turn and head toward the captured Cylon Raider. They could potentially learn a lot about their enemy from Kara's souvenir and he was sure the chief was looking forward to the challenge of figuring the ship out. Though his curiosity was piqued, Lee had to admit that after getting a whiff of Kara after she came out of that thing he was in no hurry to take it for a joyride.

Heading for the squadron ready room, Captain Adama planned on checking in with his four pilots currently on alert duty. It was one more work-related thing to do even though he knew it would only take up a limited amount of time before his pilots would start thinking he was trying to keep an eye on them. After about ten minutes, he took his leave heading for the senior officers quarters for the pilots.

With work now behind him, Lee's mind went to the personal feelings he had been trying to bury. He hadn't meant to give away Kara's secret. She may have confided in him the truth about how Zak passed basic flight, but it wasn't his place to go spreading that any farther. Before the Cylons had attacked, he might have felt duty bound to reveal the truth to the proper people but things were different now. As Kara had said, the world as they knew it was coming to an end. This ship and the people serving on her were the fleet as far as they knew. They needed every person now more than ever and revealing the truth about what had happened more than two years ago would accomplish nothing except impede Kara's ability to do her job.

When his father had said he and Kara had talked, Lee assumed she had confessed her transgression to his father as well. That hadn't been the case then, but he knew it was now, which meant he could no longer use that as an excuse for not apologizing to his father for blaming him for Zak's death. It hadn't been William Adama's pull that had put Zak in a plane when he didn't belong in one, but Kara's inability to keep something that Zak wanted from her lover.

Bottom line was, Lee knew he owed his father an apology. Had known it since Kara had made her confession on the hangar deck? He had even tried once to apologize, right after that battle but when his father had brushed him aside, he'd never gotten the courage to attempt it again. Lee had managed to convince himself that just letting things lie where they were and moving on was for the best. Until now, that was. Now that his father knew the truth, Lee felt compelled to apologize and attempt to clear the air before him and his father. He owed the old man that much at least.

By the time he had made it to his quarters though, Lee had convinced himself that now wasn't the right time. Convinced himself that it was best to let things calm down after recent events. With a quick greeting to his two fellow officers already relaxing in their bunks, Lee grabbed his toiletries and headed for the showers, his new plan for the evening being a hot shower to help him relax enough to try reading for a bit.

As he let the hot water run over his tired and aching muscles though, he could hear pieces of the conversation he'd had with his father before Galatica's decommissioning ceremony.

"Why don't you talk to me, Lee?"

"My orders said report here and participate in the ceremony. So I'm here, and I'm gonna participate in the ceremony. There wasn't anything in my orders about having any heat-to-heart chats with the old man."

"You know all the things that you talked to me about at the funeral-"

"I really don't want to do this!"

"They still ring in my ears after two years."

"Good! 'Cause you know what? They were meant to!"

"Zak had a choice. You both did."

"He earned his wings just like we all did."

"I did nothing for him that I wouldn't have done for anyone else."

"Zak did not belong in that plane!"

"Face it. You killed him."

"That'll be all, Captain."

Despite burying his head in the cascading water the voices refused to be silenced. Finally, Lee turned off the water, the feeling of regret for his choice of words just as strong as it was that day. Even at Zak's funeral he hadn't been so blunt in his accusation. He knew his father had been hurt by Zak's death as much as the rest of him but at that time, he still believed Zak being in that plane was due to their father's influence. There had been no regret at the funeral, when the pain of losing Zak was so fresh, but seeing his father's reaction to his words before the decommissioning ceremony had made him wish he could take back that last accusation. There was no taking words back, just like nothing could bring Zak back, but he could possibly ease their effect by apologizing.

Fueling that regret now was the fact that he knew the truth. Zak had been in that plane that day because Kara had let personal feelings get in the way of doing her job correctly. Yet, though he was angry with her, it wasn't the same kind of anger that he'd harbored for his father for over two years. Kara at least took responsibility for her part in Zak's death. She admitted that she had made a mistake, something his father had never done. As she was his friend, fellow pilot, and had saved his life, he had been able to reconcile his anger with her and move on.

Yet apparently the only thing his father had to apologize for was the pressure he had put on both of his sons to follow in his footsteps. As he had pointed out to Lee, they both had a choice to make.

"A man isn't a man until he wears the wings of a Viper pilot."

What son wouldn't want to try to follow in his father's footsteps after hearing those words numerous times? Lee had long ago stopped even trying to keep count of the number of times their father had recited those words to them. Though he wouldn't deny loving what he did, Lee doubted he would have found his way to the service if not for the pressure from his father. Now, as he gazed into the mirror, Lee knew he was the man he was because of his father's influence. Hell, he was probably alive because of being ordered to participate in Galatica's decommissioning ceremony.

"You can do this, Lee," he said to his reflection, determined once more to go to his father and apologize.

Lee pulled on a pair of fatigue pants, a grey tee, and tank top before his eyes rested on his duty uniform still hanging in the locker. Though he was off duty, perhaps his attire should be a little more formal given his destination. However, the reason he was going to see his father had nothing to do ship's business. If he wore the duty uniform, the attire might set the mood of the conversation and the last thing he needed was an excuse for either of them to retreat to the safe ground hiding in military formality offered them.

Leaving the duty uniform hanging, Lee shut his locker and turned to leave.

"There's going to be a card game at twenty-one hundred, sir. You joining us?" one of his fellow bunkmates asked, looking up from the book he had been reading.

"Probably not tonight," Lee replied, before leaving the senior officers quarters. He had no idea how long his intended conversation would take. Even if he was done before twenty-one hundred, he doubted he would be in the mind frame to engage his fellow pilots in a game of cards following it.

"If you change your mind, you know where we'll be," he called after him as he returned to his book.

Walking through the corridors of Galactica, Lee started to lose his courage. Perhaps his dad had been right the first time and this conversation was best put off to a later date - like perhaps never. Their lives had changed so much since the Cylon attack that perhaps the past was best left there. He and his father had slowly been building a bridge between the chasm Zak's death had left behind them since fate had assigned him to Galactica. Maybe he should just leave it at that.

Lee turned and took a few steps back toward his quarters. The card game sounded like a good way to spend some off duties hours after all.

~You're running away again. Just like you've been doing your whole adult life when facing things you don't want to deal with, ~ a voice said in his head. Ironically, the voice sounded a lot like Kara's, which shouldn't have surprised him any. Kara was the only one brave enough to ever call him on his behavior.

So perhaps it was time that he stopped running. Turning on his heel, Lee started back in the direction of his father's quarters.

"Are you okay, sir?"

The question brought Lee out of his thoughts to find that he wasn't alone in the corridor. Looking in the direction of the voice, Galactica's CAG spotted Dualla standing not far away, giving him a look of concern.

"Yeah, I'm fine," Lee told her, trying to keep his voice steady. This was an issue he definitely didn't want to get involved discussing with anyone else on this ship. Or anyone else in the fleet for that matter. "I thought I forgot to do something but then remembered I didn't," he added, trying to explain away his behavior.

"It's been a rough day for all of us," Dualla agreed in an understanding voice. "Goodnight, sir."

"Goodnight," Lee echoed, giving her a slight nod as he continued in the direction of his father's quarters.

By the time he had reached the old man's quarters, Lee was once again questioning the wisdom of opening old wounds. Before he could lose the courage to go through with this again though, the pilot reached out and knocked on the door.

"Come in," William Adama called out almost immediately to the knock.

Taking a deep breath, Lee pulled open the door. As he stepped through the portal, he let that breath out slowly, trying to calm his nerves. William Adama looked up from the files he had spread out in front of him.

"Captain," William Adama said neutrally, wondering what had brought Lee to his quarters at this time of the day. He took note that his son wasn't wearing his regular uniform or his pilot's uniform, something that had never happened before.

"Dad, can we talk?" Lee asked, ignoring proper military conduct despite his father's formal address. He knew if he tried to hide behind formality he would likely come up with some bogus official reason for his visit and not say what he had come to say.

William tried to keep his face a stoic mask as he quietly patted the couch beside him. The question Lee had asked about what he would have done if it had been Lee in Kara's place still rang in his head, preventing him from trying to brush off a personal conversation with his son this time around.

Walking silently over to the couch, Lee stiffly took a seat, keeping some distance between him and his father. Beside him, William closed the file he had been looking at but remained quiet. Galactica's commander didn't plan on rushing anything. Lee had come to him to talk and he planned on waiting for his son to start the conversation.

"This isn't easy," Lee finally said, trying to break the silence. He inwardly cringed at the words. This was so not the way he wanted to start this conversation.

"Most things between us aren't," William said lightly, hoping to ease the tension a bit.

"Ain't that the truth," Lee muttered softly causing Bill to smile. Letting out a sigh, Lee rubbed his hands across the top of his legs. He didn't see any delicate way to start this conversation so he just opted for just blurting out the apology. "About the things that I said after the funeral and my words and actions over the last two years, I just wanted to say I was wrong and I'm sorry."

Bill felt his breath catch. He wasn't sure what he had expected Lee to say but it hadn't been that. He knew how hard an admission like that, no matter who you were making it to, was. "You weren't completely wrong. Zak didn't belong in that plane," Bill conceded, hoping to make the situation a little easier on his son.

"But I assumed the wrong person was the cause of that."

Lee's reply told Bill that his son wasn't going to let himself off the hook as easy as Bill himself was willing to. But then maybe that shouldn't surprise him. Lee always had been his own hardest critic.

Tentatively, Bill reached out to rest a hand on his son's shoulder. He had always let Carolanne bet the one to show tenderness toward the boys, though he hadn't loved them any less than she had. Being demonstrative and showing his emotions was something that he had never been comfortable with, something that Lee seemed to have picked up from him.

Though Lee stiffened at the touch, Bill didn't withdraw his hand. "Given the information that you had at the time, I can understand where you were coming from."

"I was just so angry. I needed to blame someone," Lee said, his voice starting to waver. Now that he had gotten past the initial apology, he suddenly wanted to try to make his father understand where he had been coming from. To discuss things that he had been trying to bury for so long. "He was my little brother and I couldn't . . ."

Lee's words trailed off as his voice broke even as he fought to hold back the tears. His denial of Roslin's charge that he wasn't over Zak's death seemed laughable now. He hadn't ever tried to deal with it, simply went through the motions of a funeral, because that was what was expected, and channeled his grief into anger at his father.

"You couldn't what, son?" William said, sensing that Lee needed to get this out to someone. Too many times he had brushed his son off, and Bill didn't want to make that mistake this time.

"I felt like I let him down because I couldn't protect him," Lee managed to say, struggling with the emotions. He took a deep breath trying to ground himself. He had come to apologize to his father, not cry in front of him. "I tried. I tried to get him to see that being a pilot wasn't for him but he wouldn't listen. I think all I did was strengthen his resolve to get his wings."

Bill slid closer to his son, and put his arm around Lee's shoulders. His son remained stiff under the touch, resistant of the comfort his father was offering.

"I blamed you for his death for two years, but his death was just as much my fault," Lee admitted, reaching up to wipe away a few stray tears.

"It was no one's fault, son," Bill said softly. He had been unaware of the guilt his surviving son had been carrying around all these years. "Accidents happen. No matter the actions and bad choices that were made by anyone leading up to it, Zak was killed in an accident. End of story. It wasn't my fault. It wasn't Kara's fault. And it most definitely wasn't your fault. Let go of the guilt. I forgive you. You just need to figure out how to forgive yourself."

Lee felt the tears start to fall at those words. For the first time, he was allowing himself to cry for the younger brother he had lost.

"After everything I've said and done, how can you let this go so easily?" Lee managed to ask through his tears.

"Because you're my son," William said, moving so that he was sitting right next to Lee. "A father's love is unconditional. No matter what you say, what we argue about, what you choose to do or even if you claim to hate me for two years, the simple fact of the matter is that I'm always going to love you," he told him, stumbling over his words with his own emotions that he was struggling to keep in check.

Feeling Lee finally relax under his touch, Bill gently pulled his son closer to him. This conversation had been a long time coming and Galactica's commander knew that was partly his fault. He had tried to brush away Lee's previous attempts at personal conversation because he hadn't wanted a repeat of the one right before Galactica's decommissioning ceremony. That conversation had quickly deteriorated into hurtful words because Lee hadn't been ready at the time. After everything that had taken place after it, and thinking that he had lost Lee too, Bill hadn't wanted to risk another conversation like that. He had Lee back, and as tense as things were between them, he had been a part of his son's life again. Bill had only wanted to hold onto that.

However, once again it appeared as though he had failed his son.

As Lee leaned into him, Bill wrapped his other arm around his son, hugging him close as Lee leaned his head against his father's chest.

"I would've given anything if it could have spared him. Even my own life."

"You and me both, son," Bill said softly. "But sometimes you can't protect people, even those you love. That was my greatest fear you know. As much as I wanted you and Zak to follow in my footsteps, and as proud as I was of both of you, I knew the risk of losing one or both of you were high. That fear was realized when I lost Zak, but I don't regret my decisions or the example I set for the two of you. I'm proud of my career and what I've accomplished. That doesn't mean I don't worry about losing you every time you leave with your squadron. Life is a risk, though, and nothing we can do can protect us from that."

"I know I haven't said it in a long time, but I love you, Dad," Lee managed to get out, without looking up.

Still hugging his son close, Bill Adama rested his chin on the top of Lee's head. He had always known that, even through the anger Lee had projected at him. Hearing those words from his son though meant a lot to him, and Bill's own vision started to blur as tears welled up in his eyes.

"I love you too, son," Bill replied, not moving from his position. The life they were living now didn't give any of them much time for personal moments like this, but for now Bill knew ship's business could wait. For now he would hold onto his son for as long as he could because he didn't know when or if he would get this opportunity again.

As he felt the tears finally start to roll down his cheeks, Bill Adama realized that even this short conversation between the two of them had started mending the hole left in their lives by Zak's death. It was no miracle cure, but perhaps now both of them could finally start the process of getting over Zak's death.