By the time Kara had gotten to her room after exploring the island, she had been exhausted. She hadn't even bothered turning on the lights to the place; she just flopped down on the bed and fell asleep.
She woke up ready to hear Hot Dog bitching about Racetrack's snoring, or the sounds of locker doors opening and slamming shut. Nothing. Not a sound. She quickly sat up without opening her eyes, bending over slightly so she didn't hit her head on the top of her rack. And then she opened her eyes and remembered.
She wasn't on Galactica.
The island, the war. She would lead her people to a devastated Earth, she would come back thinking only hours had passed instead of months, she would be accused of being a Cylon....
Her bitter mood only seemed to grow as she looked around at the room. All the comforts of home and then some. A bureau next to the bed was full of tanks and sweats and all of the clothes she wore aboard Galactica, guns and ammo stacked up at the bottom of it. A punching bag had been set up in the corner, gloves lying beneath it. There was even a paint set and a drawing pad put away on a shelf. But instead of feeling comforted, she just felt sufficiently creeped out. How did...whoever set this up know so much about her?
Again, she thought of the Cylons and all of their mind games. ...What was worse, being trapped again by Leoben or finding out that this really was some war between good and evil? Leoben she could escape; she had done it before. But this war seemed...inescapable. ...So which option was she really hoping for?
As she continued to think about the frakked up situation she was in, she decided to take a quick shower. Not moments after she turned the nozzle to off, she heard a knock on the door and Lee's voice. She wrapped a towel around her muscular frame and opened the door, "Hello to you, too, Apollo." They both knew she wasn't going to explain or apologize about their conversation the night before; or, at least, she knew that. "Do you mind if I get dressed before we have a meeting?"