Family Ties X

As he turned the chicken on the grill, Bill Adama sipped his beer and smiled as the voices of Laura and Kara carried outside from the kitchen. They were preparing vegetables for the grill and talking cooking, reminding him of similar chats he’d over heard between Tamara and his mother, sometimes his grandmother, when he’d been a boy.

It pleased him that they were getting along, even though he noted they both kept a certain distance from one another — in every respect. He wasn’t sure why but let it be. They were both strong, independent women and would define whatever relationship they had for themselves.

Listening, though, he realized that it was actually the first time he’d witnessed Laura interacting with another woman in a capacity that wasn’t primarily professional. He’d been with her long enough to know she didn’t have other female friends. He’d never really thought about why and couldn’t have even wagered a guess if she hadn’t told him about what happened to her family. But he imagined it was a part of her emotional withdrawal after such a catastrophic series of losses, after losing a beloved mother and then her father and sisters with whom she’d clearly had very close relationships.

Hearing her let out a giggle, accompanied by a cackle from Kara, he looked over his shoulder, through the open doorway to see them standing at the bar, grinning as they cut up the vegetables laid out before them.

“Your girls are getting along.”

The comment came from his friend an XO who stood on the opposite side of him, sipping a beer of his own. Bill flicked his gaze over to him and saw him looking out at the water.

“Yeah,” Bill rumbled then continued turning the chicken.

“Laura’s feeling better, too,” Saul commented.

It was true, but Bill knew it wasn’t going to last, not with diloxin on her plate in a few days. “She has another treatment Friday,” he told his friend, keeping his voice low, not wanting to risk Laura overhearing and possibly ruining her mood.

Saul let out a grunt, muttered under his breath, “Takes guts to let doctors pump you full of poison.”

Bill agreed. It took a lot of courage, especially when you already knew what it was going to do to you and that more were coming. He knew she was facing a fear that all but petrified her by just letting them put the needle in her arm and he admired the hell out of her for it. Frankly, he’d known viper pilots with less nerve.

“She’s made of stern stuff,” Bill rasped.

Saul grunted again, this time a distinct sound of agreement, then teased, “Have to be to deal with your stubborn ass.”

Bill huffed a short laugh. There was truth in that, too, though his stubborn streak had yet to clash with hers. Gods, help anyone near them if and when they ever did, he mused even as he countered Saul with, “You spent too much time with Cottle today.”

Saul let out a little warble. “Grumpy bastard never changes, does he?”

“No,” Bill chuckled and heard the beer slosh in Saul’s bottle as he took a swig then lowered it.

“Still the only godsdamned doctor I trust,” Saul said then and Bill agreed. Sherman Cottle definitely knew his stuff, had patched him up a time or two over the years and kept him healthy at other times. He’d been a good friend, standing by him, like Saul, when his marriage with Carolanne came apart. They’d drank with him and cleaned him up after a binge, kept him going when he’d wanted to stop.

Bill had no idea how Laura had done it all alone but conceded she was probably stronger than him in some respects. Some men would be intimidated by that, but it didn’t bother him except in respect to his ability to be what she might need him to be. He was determined, though, and knew nothing short of death itself could move him from her side.

“Bill?”

Hearing her call his name, he looked over his shoulder to see her holding up a couple foil packets. Turning to Saul, he handed him the grilling fork, murmured, “Mind that, will ya?” then headed inside, setting his beer on the table as he passed.

Entering, he noted Kara was no longer in the kitchen.

“I sent the lieutenant to pick up a couple things I thought we had but didn’t,” Laura said, answering his question before he could even form it. “These two are ready, though,” she said, setting the foil packets on the bar and scooting them across to him. She thanked him as he picked them up then surveyed what she had left to do and gave him a sitrep. “Shouldn’t take long to finish the rest when she gets back,” she said with a smile, her eyes bright with the happiness he heard in her voice. She was enjoying herself.

“Need some help with that?” he asked, nodding toward the vegetables she still had left to chop.

“You offering?” she asked as she braced her hands on the edge of the counter and leaned toward him, giving him a nice view of her cleavage. He chuckled. She was flirting and she knew he knew it, judging by the saucy glint that infiltrated her gaze.

“Are you?” he flirted back.

A coy raise of an eyebrow, a playful flash of her eyes, a seductive tilting of her head, and he was chuckling. The teasing “maybe” that followed had him shaking his head and wandering back out to the grill, leaving her humming in amusement in his wake.

To his own amusement and delight, the flirting continued through their early supper. She sat opposite of him around the small table and winked at him from time to time, when she caught him eying her while Saul or Kara told a story. She even kicked off her shoes, slid comfortably down into her seat and put her feet in his lap once Saul and Kara finished eating and sat back in their seats, moving their knees out of the way. He didn’t protest, rather enjoying the snug cradle of her arches around his cock as they talked about various things.

The primary topic of discussion, with three certified pilots at the table was, well, flying. Bill noted Laura watched with fascination as they discussed combat tactics, hands becoming vipers and raiders making banks, turns, dives and climbs. He was surprised she wasn’t bored out of her skull, or throwing something at him to ask him to change the subject to include her. But not a word, no need to dodge. She just propped her chin in her palm, elbow braced on the chair arm and watched with bright eyes as Kara demonstrated the difference between the Mark II and Mark VII acceleration.

Still, out of courtesy, he brought the pilot jargon to a halt, asking Kara what she thought of the Galactica project. When he did, casting a glance at Laura, she cocked her head with a knowing smile lining her mouth, her eyes twinkling, her hair aflame with the golden hues of sunset. He lost his breath … and she winked, leaving him grinning as Kara responded.

“Waste of a battlestar,” the boisterous blond said truthfully, then added, “but better than seeing her cannibalized and melted down like all her sisters have been.”

Bill wholeheartedly concurred with that. Galactica was truly the last of her kind and time, to lose her history would be a tragedy. It would deprive future generations of living piece of the past, the lessons of which needed to be taught and remembered.

“She will teach future generations the lessons of war,” he said, his eyes darting to Laura again, when he continued with a sobering, “which are too easily forgotten.”

It was something they’d discussed briefly and bringing it up now earned him a nod of acknowledgement from her, as well as Saul.

“What was it like?”

The question came from Kara. Bill looked at her and saw genuine curiosity in her clear, young — so frakkin’ young — gaze. He didn’t respond right away, so she issued a more specific query.

“We train for it,” she began, “but actual combat with a raider… we really have no idea.”

Bill looked down at his plate, studying the remains of his meal as he searched for the words to convey what he’d felt when locked in a deadly dance with a Cylon craft. He began with the obvious, and likely what she, a hotshot viper jock, would want to hear.

“It’s exciting,” he said low then looked up at her, continuing, “It’s focused, intense, and brutally elegant.” He paused a moment, searched Kara’s eyes, preparing her for what he had to say next. Then, deadly serious, “It’s an internal war between terror and rage that rage must win if you want to live.”

“Godsdamned right about that,” came Saul’s brusque growl from beside him.

Bill spared him a glance, saw him turning his beer up and draining the bottle down his throat.

“The rush is like nothing else,” he resumed, his eyes finding Laura’s across the table. She watched him contemplatively, then compassionately when he said softly, “But it’s sobered when you climb out of the cockpit and find your friend didn’t make it. Or your lover didn’t.”

Even as he said the words, he knew they would touch a personal note with Kara. He hadn’t said it to be insensitive, but she had asked and it was a reality of war. Young pilots like her needed to know and understand what it took to survive, because he wasn’t as sure as some of his colleagues — and the populace in general — that they’d heard the last from the Cylons.

Looking over to her, he saw her eyes on the table. They were growing glassy with tears, making his heart hurt for her. Gently, he breathed, “Give me your eyes.”

She did, vulnerability plain along with a fragment of a smile, which he returned when he rasped, “What do you hear, Kara?”

In response, she wiped at the corner of one eye then raised her beer bottle, tipping it toward him in acknowledgment as she whispered, “Nothing but the rain, sir.”

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