"Chief, I'm gonna need you to develop my gun camera footage ASAP. I've got a hell of a set of vacation pictures! I'll take my post-flight checklist, I want to sign out so I can get in the showers." But he doesn't have a post-flight checklist for her. Or he does, but it's only got one question on it, and it's not really a checklist kind of question, more like an essay, and it goes like so:
Kara chuckles a little bit, and asks what's up. We already know what's up, because we remember, so here's a list of people who are totally freaking out: Helo, Chief, Racetrack, and Athena. But not Lee Adama. Lee doesn't even look, just lowers his head like a ram, and crashes into her, and holds her so tight.
"Okay. Okay, me too. It's okay. It's okay."
"Do you believe in miracles?" asks Tigh. Bill doesn't; he can't afford to. He used to, before she died -- not in a lot of miracles, and not necessarily in the Gods even, but the kind of miracles that always used to bring Kara skipping back, dancing them away from the abyss. Those Starbuck quick saves and heroic last second-shots. But the last time she died, it broke something in him. Such a little girl, to leave such a big hole: that's our Kara. He can't afford to believe in miracles anymore, even when they're staring him in the face, grinning with a smile like five stars and no pain at all.
In the Colonies they have a very old story, about a boy who played the harp and sang like an angel, and the woman he loved. When she died, the Gods wept for him, for he was beloved. And he went down into the underworld, and made deals to get her back again. And on the way home, on the path out of the underworld, his curiosity or his fear or his desire got the better of him, and he turned around to look, and you know what happened next, and so does the Admiral. It seethes in him.
Lee is good, he's a good boy. When Sam comes running up, just as excited and just as scared, and throws his arms around his wife, Lee steps to the side. Just far enough not to get caught in the crossfire. Sam and Kara, their love was always a little too rough for Lee, I think. Jock love.
Sam chuckles, and touches her face: "I told everyone that you were too frakkin' mean to kill." And she says it again: "Okay, I'm okay, I'm okay. I'm okay." She pulls back and takes him in, his Viper gear. "What the hell are you doing in a jock smock?" He's proud: one more thing they have in common. One more thing on a list that might be getting longer every second she stands here, proving she's not dead.