Verse 15: In the Lamplight

Bill Adama’s heart beat slow and steady and Laura Roslin listened to the steady thump, her ear pressed to his chest as they lay in his rack, she cuddled against his side.

His cabin was fully lit from the lamps, neither of them possessing the will to leave their private nook in Galactica long enough to shut them off. That was okay. Laura liked the light, it was warm and comforting, so different than the stale lighting found outside his quarters and on other ships in the fleet, and better than the antispetic feel of the cylon baseship. No, here in this light, with Bill, she felt … at home.

She could have lost that today — a truth that’d had her weeping in his arms earlier.

Frakking Zarek. Frakking Gaeta. Frakking mutineers. They’d come close to destroying everything that she and Bill had worked for. Everything.

Even this, she considered, her hand moving across his chest. Too close.

Motherfrakking Zarek.

When he’d told her Bill was dead… Rage. Pure rage. Focused. Purposeful. Unrelenting. She would have destroyed the traitorous bastard. She would have chased him to the ends of the galaxy to see him dead. And even though Bill had turned out to be alive, had retaken the ship, she still wanted Zarek dead.

At the moment, he was in Galactica’s brig, under the guard of loyal soldiers. The other mutineers had been banished from the ship, away from her and Bill and those most dear, from the loyal and brave who hadn’t forgotten their oaths.

It amazed her how much things had changed. Cylons … cylons had protected her, had fought with Bill and for him. Cylons had proven more trustworthy than their own.

And the quorum. Oh, gods. When Bill had told her about them…

Slaughtered because they’d supported her and Bill, and refused Zarek. After all the fighting and bickering and criticism, they’d stood up when it counted and been gunned down for their courage.

Motherfrakking Zarek.

Tears slipped from Laura’s eyes as she thought about each one of them. They’d frustrated her more often than not, drove her crazy, but they’d still been her colleagues, still been the voices for their people. They’d been human beings and there were so few left.

She wondered if things would had been different if she hadn’t walked away after Earth. She wondered if they would still be alive if…

“It’s not your fault.” The words were accompanied by the stroking of a broad hand along the length of her arm.

Laura smiled at his perceptiveness in spite of the gloomy thoughts occupying her mind, slipped her hand around to his side and hugged herself closer to him.

“I can’t help thinking it might have made a difference if I had–”

He cut her off with a resigned, “Don’t, Laura.”

Laura pushed up on an elbow, met his gaze, briefly wondered where his glasses were, before speaking. “They didn’t deserve that, Bill.”

His gaze held understanding. “No.” Thick fingers stroked her lower back. “But Zarek would have tried sooner or later, no matter what you chose. It’s who he is.”

She agreed with that, which is why she’d wanted him close where she could watch him, give him a chance to make a difference without relying on his old ways — but old habits died hard, as did the anarchist agenda. She should have known better and yet…

“And Gaeta?” she whispered.

Bill sighed, rubbed at his eyes with the back of his other hand. That was a harder question to answer. He had always been a loyal officer, bright and goal-oriented, but things had changed somewhere along the way, somehow and either they’d missed the signs or hadn’t bothered to look, any of them.

“He was angry, bitter, and in pain,” Bill rumbled as he dropped his hand back to his chest. His thumb absently stroked the scar that bisected his chest as he continued. “After losing the leg … he couldn’t get past it. Zarek used that and Felix made the choice. The others … listened.”

It was a growl, anger lacing every syllable. She wasn’t surprised. Every last one of those who’d “listened” was sitting on the Astral Queen right now. All except Gaeta and, of course, Zarek.

“You’re going to execute them.” It wasn’t a question and he didn’t answer. He didn’t have to. The look on his face said it all. He intended to do just that, soon.

“I don’t want to see it,” she told him, fearing he might ask.

His expression shifted, the hardness evaporating and leaving behind that tenderness that always made her heart skip and flutter. “No,” he agreed, his hand sliding up her side. He urged her back down beside him and she went, resuming her previous position.

Her mind still churned, though. There were a lot of things facing them in the morning, probably more than they were even aware of right now. The possiblities were endless. She didn’t want to think about them, any of it, but there was one thing she wanted to say, something she’d given a good bit of thought to as she’d waited to be brought back to Galactica, so she said it.

“I’m not resigning as president.”

His response was what she expected. “Good.”

She smiled but sought to clarify, knowing he would love for her to take up the reins again with him. She didn’t want to disappoint him, but she had made her choice to live what life she had left apart from the fleet’s business and this latest escapade had not changed her mind. She would be the figurehead the people needed but Lee would do the work.

“But I’m not going to do the job, Bill,” she said, tracing her fingers over the back of his hand.

His reply surprised her. “I know,” he rumbled. “That’s okay.”

Laura felt a sense of relief, one she hadn’t expected. She’d thought she would have to make a case to him and was glad she didn’t have to, glad that he understood and accepted her choice so easily. She didn’t want to lose a moment to arguing; there were other things she’d rather do with the time she had remaining.

Turning her head, Laura pressed a kiss to his chest, whispered, “Thank you,” and offered up a prayer of thanks to god, the gods, fate or whomever was listening, for protecting him and bringing him back to her, safe and sound.

He was her only joy and the thought of having to live her last days without him was terrifying, now more than ever. In those few minutes she’d believed him dead, life had lost its meaning completely. She hadn’t cared about anyone or anything. There’d been only rage and a sense of vast emptiness. She never wanted to feel that again, ever, and yet she knew she was being selfish because that emptiness awaited him.

Tears pricked her eyes at that thought and she didn’t bother to fight them. Instead, she asked a question as they trickled hotly down her cheek. “Would it be in bad form for us to make love again?”

He kissed the top of her head in response and drew her atop him, strong hands and arms pulling her into place as he rasped, “Maybe … they’ll just have to forgive us if it is.”

< Verse 14: Together Again | Verse 16: Grief, Pride, Pain and Resignation >