Work Text:
Romo watches Lee in the noisy moments, when Baltar is arguing about how unfairly he's being treated or the courtroom is erupting in outrage. He notices the empty look in Lee's eyes and how he absently fingers the photograph in his pocket, trying to appear intact, but getting lost somewhere in memory. He knows that these moments are the hardest because they come unexpectedly, a de-focusing of one's mind in a crowd, feeling isolated amidst the jostling of bodies until awareness returns and the grief has come up one painful notch.
Romo had heard the rumors about the woman and Lee, whispers that they'd been lovers and he can understand why. Even in his usual disaffected manner, he had heard about Starbuck and Apollo and how they saved the fleet time and time again, becoming heros to people who had none. He'd never met Kara Thrace, of course, because he had been stuck in the bowels of the Salpica, living with the last remaining human families in the overcrowded stench they called home. But they'd had a wireless and in the beginning, shell-shocked and desperate, they'd listen to the comm chatter, praying silently or aloud that the cylons wouldn't make it to their ship – or maybe that they would and everything could finally end.
Now, in the courtroom, there is anger in the crowd and the gavel's sharp crack is reverberating in his ears. Lee springs to action and Romo notices the photograph fall onto the floor. His attention is split, his brain aware of the flutter of the photo while the guards rush Giaus out of the door and shuffle the bystanders away. The crowd thins and he hears the sharp intake of breath and knows before he looks that it will be Lee. When he turns, the panic is rising into his face, then the searching of pockets, patting of his chest, rifling through papers, trying to be calm and make himself believe that his last remaining reminder has not been lost.
Romo watches Lee's hands scrabble under the desk, his fingers finding purchase on the thin paper until he rises, sitting heavily at the table, relief evident as he stares down at her face. The grief notches higher. When Lee looks up again, Romo can see that he is dazed, unfocused, ready to be done with this charade of representing a man who will likely lose. And just for a moment, he's not sure how smart it had been to bring a grieving man into this place, but what's done is done and he decides to trust his instincts, much like Lee's grandfather had taught him.
Later, when Lee emerges from solitude, Romo can see the redness around his eyes and the pronounced crease etching his mouth. He thinks that Lee is more than he expected, this hero of men, broken and defeated, living on without a woman who was never really his. Suddenly, Romo feels grateful for his own version of this loss, the way his heart no longer wants to stop beating and how he thinks he might survive without her. He thinks that Lee will reach this place, too, with or without his help, and he sits back under dark sunglasses and waits.