Verse 16: Grief, Pride, Pain and Resignation

Bill Adama stared at the star charts on the backlit strategy console, his eyes looking for anything promising for a new home. Inevitably, though, his eyes were drawn to the papers laying atop them, the ones mapping the stress fractures in Galactica’s skeletal structure. Whenever he did, he found himself frowning further and not just because he’d lost his glasses.

It had been a frakking miserable day.

First, he’d woken and formed an execution detail to take care of the lingering remnants of the mutiny and coup. Zarek and Gaeta were pronounced dead by 0800. Then Tyrol had taken him into the bowels of Galactica and showed him the rips in the inner metal hull. After an assessment, Tyrol showed him more, major stress fractures in the structural beams of the old girl’s skeleton. And the good news just kept on coming, further investigation showing invisible stress fracturing in the hull plating. His own quarters had sign of it, visible signs of it, a gash in the upper beam in his lavatory. To top it off, the newly reinstated Tyrol wanted to use cylon technology to repair the ship, a notion that had him growling under his breath every time he thought about it.

Bill snagged one of the schematics Tyrol had prepared and dragged it across the console to where he could see it better. He squinted as he stared at the image. It had been a long day and his eyes were tired.

He wished someone would find his frakking glasses. He wished his ship wasn’t coming frakking apart, rotting from the inside out. He wished the woman he loved wasn’t being eaten alive by godsdamned, motherfrakking cancer. He wished he could fix them both.

“Bill.”

It was a gentle lilt, one that made him smile in spite of all the crap he had to deal with. He glanced to his left and saw Laura Roslin entering CIC, her marines in tow.

“Hey,” he said as she came up beside him.

She looked tired and there was wetness around her eyes, partially obscured by her glasses, but he saw it. He wasn’t surprised. She had been to Colonial One today, surveying the damage, planning a memorial service for her slaughtered colleagues, and conferencing with Lee on civilian matters. A busy day, one she’d started out at less than full strength. They’d both been up much of the night, first making love then just talking, wishing they could hold onto the night and not face the morning and all that awaited them. He wished he could turn back the clock, to the peace of those hours and forget everything that had happened today.

“How’re you feeling?” he asked.

She just looked at him. He didn’t press for an answer, just looked back at the reports. Her elegant hand came into view, touched the paper he was looking at, caressed it almost. “Gods,” she sighed. “Lee told me, but…”

“Yeah.”

A few moments of silence fell between them, just the chatter of the crew filling the space and time. Saul joined them as they stared at the report.

“Admiral, Madam President,” he nodded to both of them then reported, “Tyrol is still surveying the lower decks. He hopes to have a full report by mid-day tomorrow.”

Bill nodded, heard Laura shift beside him when he gave a heavy sigh. She laid a hand on his forearm, gave it a gentle squeeze. He met her gaze, saw understanding there. He wasn’t surprised. She knew what his ship meant to him, had helped re-secure his command. So had Saul. He had good friends, and a beautiful lover, he decided, offering her a small smile of acknowledgement. She returned the expression before moving her hand away, reaching up and slipping off her glasses.

Her expression was one of weariness as she braced her palm against the side of the table and the other on her hip. Bill watched her look at the star charts then the reports then close her eyes. She needed to rest, but he wasn’t going to tell her what to do — that never went over well.

“The memorial service…,” she began then paused when her voice weakened. His heart hurt for her. Even though the quorum had seemed to be her enemy more often than not, she was clearly grieving them. He agreed it had been a senseless and horrible way to die, all the more tragic because they’d finally found their spines. She cleared her throat after a moment and resumed, her eyes fixed on the table as she spoke, “The memorial service will be in the morning, early, six.” In the light, he could see tears forming in her eyes.

“I’ll be there,” he said, hoping his words would reassure her that she was not alone. He had never liked the quorum, hadn’t liked how they treated her, but he would pay his respects and stand at her side as she paid hers.

Glassy green eyes turned to him … she turned to him, eyes searching his. Her hand came up, touched his face, then she was rising on her toes and kissing him. It was a gentle kiss, lingering, one of gratitude and affection. He closed his eyes and accepted it, relishing the slide of her fingers along his jaw just before she drew away with a whispered, “Thank you.”

He could have heard a pin drop in CIC. Everything had come to a standstill around him. He could practically hear Saul’s shock and knew his crew had stopped whatever they were doing and were staring. He didn’t care, just gazed at Laura as she re-donned her glasses. When she looked at him again, it was to ask, “Will you be home for supper?”

He smiled. “Yeah.”

She flashed him a smile, that sweet one that made his heart skip a beat, that one that said “I’m in love with you and I don’t give a frak who knows.” He liked that smile. It always brightened his day, even a day like today. He couldn’t help but return it and she gave a little hum at seeing it. She glanced at Saul then, offered a polite “Colonel” before exiting CIC.

Bill watched her go, convinced he would never stop falling in love with her every time he saw her. There was just something about her, something that…

“You should go with her.”

His smile fading, he glanced over at his XO. “Too much work to do,” he replied then reached for the reports on Galactica’s structural problems.

“Bill,” Saul’s tone was chiding, prompting Bill to shoot him a look that said he didn’t want to discuss it. But Saul didn’t relent. He just looked at Bill knowingly, daring him to deny that he wanted to follow after her.

Bill couldn’t deny it. He wanted to go. He knew Laura’s exhaustion was due to the stress of mutiny, their late night, and dealing with things today, but they weren’t the only factors. Her cancer…

“Take the time, Bill,” Saul broke into his thoughts. “I’ll handle things here. You both look like you could use some rest.”

Bill looked at his friend, recalling that just days ago he’d been devastated to learn that Saul was a cylon, to find out that his longest-standing friend was the enemy. And yet he wasn’t an enemy, he was still the same loyal officer and friend he’d always been. Bill was thankful for that, and for his understanding.

“I owe you one,” he said to the man standing on the other side of the console.

Saul’s response was to salute him, which Bill returned before leaving CIC.

He caught up with Laura several sections away, just outside Memorial Hallway. Her marines flanked her, watchful. He saw she held something in her hands — pictures he made out as he got closer, likely of quorum members. He sighed and stepped through her retinue.

When he reached her side, she looked up at him in surprise which quickly faded to thankfulness. Without a word, he offered her his arm and led her into the corridor. Her eyes scanned the walls as they walked, taking in the hundreds and thousands of pictures of family and friends, of…

“So many lost,” she breathed, emotion clogging her usually clear tone. He covered her hand with his, caressed her fingers. She gripped him tighter, whispered, “I need to find clear places.”

He helped her look, hoping they found the spots for those pictures quickly. She didn’t need to linger here, and neither did he. They’d had enough of death to last a lifetime and didn’t need to be reminded of the prices others had paid for their failures. He was keenly aware of those already, so was she.

“Here,” he said, spotting a likely place. He guided her over and she released his arm, placed the picture of one of the quorum delegates. Her fingers lingered over the visage, a slight tremble in the digits. He frowned at seeing it but chalked it up to her emotional state and exhaustion, hoping…

After a few moments, she moved on and he followed, helping her look for another place. They did it for each picture and she lingered over them as she had the first.

Once they were all placed, she tugged off her glasses and murmured, “Let’s go.”

When she took his arm again, leaned on him, he knew it was more than exhaustion and emotion. There was a noticeable tremor in her hand as it lay against his wrist.

Motherfrakking cancer.

A heavy weight settling on him, he escorted her from Memorial Hallway and directed her toward Sickbay instead of his quarters. She noticed the direction and stopped, looked up at him and shook her head. “I just need to eat and lay down.”

He wasn’t so sure, but the pleading in her gaze… he relented and took her to his quarters.

Once there, she headed to the lavatory and he ordered some food brought up. He then contacted CIC and checked in with Saul. Apparently the surgery on Sam Anders was underway, other than that everything was status quo. He didn’t know whether to be happy or punch the bulkhead, winced at the thought of the latter remembering the fracture in the lavatory.

Frowning, Bill unbuttoned his uniform tunic and wandered to the back of his cabin, toward his desk. “Food’s on the way,” he called out when he passed the lavatory.

“Okay,” came Laura’s voice from inside. She emerged after a few moments, wig dismissed to somewhere, kerchief in place.

As he pulled out his logbook, he watched her move about the cabin, shedding her suit jacket then slipping into her robe. She then sought out her book, the one she’d been reading the last couple days and wandered to the rack.

He watched her stretch out and start to read. Despite his worry, he smiled at he normalcy of the actions, at the domesticity of how they were together at the moment. He liked it and it was hard to tell himself he shouldn’t get too used to it, that it was going to end sooner than either of them wanted.

Bill looked away from her as he tried to shove away the painful thoughts. He didn’t want to have them, or let them taint the moment. It wasn’t ideal but it was perfect in its own way.

“Come here.”

The gentle command made him smile. He glanced up at the woman laying in his bed. Her eyes were warm and welcoming in the lamplight, her smile… she knew where his thoughts had gone.

Setting aside the pen he’d retrieved from his drawer while watching her, he rose and went over to his rack. He sat on the edge, but she wanted more and patted the space beside her, saying, “Read to me.”

He smirked. “I’ve lost my glasses.”

“Try mine,” she said, slipping hers off and handing them to him.

He took them, along with the book, tried, adjusting the book to different distances to find one that might work but had no luck. Her prescription wasn’t quite strong enough. He took off her glasses, handed them back to her then rose when a thought occurred to him.

“Be right back,” he replied, wandered into the other room to the bureaus that lined the wall. He searched the drawers until he found what he was looking for. He returned to Laura, holding it up and smiling in triumph. It was a magnifying glass. “Forgot about this.”

Her eyebrows raised, her smile brightened. “That’s an odd thing to have aboard a battlestar.”

“I use it when working on the model,” he said, gesturing to the ship that sat on the shelf behind his desk. He’d started working on it again a few days ago, taking it apart in preparation of repairing and reassembling it — for the third time.

“Think it will help?” she asked and handed him the book as he sat again beside her.

“Might,” he replied, opening the book and holding up the glass. It wasn’t perfect, but it was, “Better.”

She patted the bed again and he handed her the glass while he situated himself beside her. She immediately snuggled against him his side, gave him the glass back.

“Where were you?” he asked, holding up the book.

She looked a moment then placed her index finger against the page, pointing out her place. When she moved it away, he began reading and gradually lost himself in the words and story. At some point, Laura fell asleep. He kept reading though, hoping she’d drift off into a deeper slumber and rest. He didn’t stop until there was a knock on the hatch, signaling the arrival of their late lunch. She didn’t stir, so he carefully extracted himself from her, to let her sleep a bit longer before waking her to eat. He was successful and moved quietly through the room to the hatch.

He opened to admit the crewman with the tray, biting back the pain of not seeing the face he’d expected, who’d brought his meals for nearly two years. Private Jaffee. He’d been a good and loyal soldier and he’d saved Bill’s life at the outset of the mutiny. For that alone…

No, Bill wasn’t going to think about the morning’s execution. It was something that had needed to be done. He’d taken no joy or satisfaction in it but he admitted that he was not sorry to have Zarek gone.

Dismissing the young man who’d brought the tray, Bill began setting out the food. He hadn’t ordered tea, but someone had remembered to send a thermos of it for Laura. He smiled wistfully. Apparently her presence in his quarters was a given for the galley staff. He liked that.

As he prepared the table, he heard Laura stir, glanced to see her sitting up in the rack. “Ready to eat?”

She nodded and got out of bed, joined him at the table. They ate quietly, didn’t talk much. It was companionable. They had just about finished when the comm unit buzzed.

Rising, Bill answered and listened to a report from Dr. Cottle on Sam Anders’ condition. The surgery was successful but the young man had yet to waken. Starbuck was with him; Tigh, Tyrol and Tory Foster were hanging around.

Bill sighed, ran his hand over his face. “Thank you, Doc. Keep me posted.”

“I will. Oh, one other thing,” came Cottle’s voice from the other end of the line.

“Yeah. What is it?”

“I want to see you tomorrow afternoon to take a look at your neck.”


Bill frowned. His neck had been bothering him, was tight as a sonuvabitch ever since that flash grenade went off in the airlock. Actually, it hadn’t felt too good before that, too much tension. Cottle’d prescribed him some painkillers but it was still hurting. He was getting frakking old but he really didn’t want to go to Sickbay. He had a ton of other things he needed to do, not the least of which was figure out how to repair his ship.

“It’s fine,” he told the doctor.

“Like hell,” Cottle groused. “The colonel said it’s been bothering you and your son mentioned something so I know you’re still hurting. I also know you won’t come in if I don’t order it, so I’m ordering it. And don’t find some damned excuse to skip it either, Admiral. Get your ass in here or I’ll tell her to bring you.”

Bill scowled, glanced at Laura, found her watching him, a slight frown marring her brow. Great, now she was curious as to what was going on. He didn’t want to burden her with his stiff neck when she was dealing with cancer. His ailment was trivial in comparison and she didn’t need the stress.

“Alright, Major,” he conceded then hung up the receiver.

“What is it?” Laura asked as he returned to the table.

“Mr. Anders survived the surgery. Hasn’t woken up yet,” he replied as he wandered over to the service cart and poured himself a whiskey. “Want some?” he asked Laura.

“No, thank you.”

He returned to the table, sat with his whiskey and considered finishing the rest of his meal but lost what remained of his appetite when Laura asked another question.

“What was the other thing? The one you don’t want me to know about?”

He looked at her. She was just too damned perceptive.

“It’s nothing,” he said, adopting as nonchalant an attitude as he could achieve then knocking back a swallow of the fiery amber liquid in his glass.

She said nothing, for many long seconds, and he found himself looking at her again. He shouldn’t have, but he couldn’t stop himself. Frak. She had one eyebrow raised and was sitting … he had a flashback to that conversation after Bulldog appeared, when he’d tried to hide what had happened in his last mission before the Valkyrie. Not wanting to take that route again, he told her.

“My neck has been tight. Cottle wants to take a look.”

Her raised eyebrow dropped, her brow furrowed with concern. “Were you hurt?”

“It’s just tension, comes and goes,” he assured her then took another swallow of whiskey. “Probably stress-related.”

She seemed to ease some with his explanation. “We’ve certainly had enough of that lately,” she said, her voice soft but he could see her eyes scanning him, likely trying to determine if he was in pain at the moment.

He finished his whiskey then stood and walked over to her. Bending, he kissed the top of her head, murmured, “Don’t worry.” With that, he refilled his tumbler then retreated to his desk and abandoned log book. He hadn’t written in it in several days because, well, he’d had other things on his mind with Laura waiting for him at home every day. He needed to catch up but as he sat, he thought again of his missing glasses.

“Frak,” he muttered as he looked at the barely in-focus pages. He was going to have a massive headache if he tried that.

“What?”

He glanced up to see Laura approaching.

“I can’t see to write,” he grumbled.

She wandered over to the bed and retrieved the magnifying glass, brought it to him. “This might help.”

He took it, held it up experimentally, frowned. It would work, but it wasn’t going to be much better than without it. Still, he thanked her.

She kissed his cheek. “I’m going to take a shower.”

He watched her disappear into the lavatory then set about trying to write in his log. As he recounted the events of the last couple days, he found himself reliving the emotions that were stirred. It wasn’t something he normally did.

Usually writing in his log helped him gain perspective, but there was no perspective to be gained when it came to someone taking his ship, trying to execute him and shoot down the raptor bearing the president of the Twelve Colonies to help some frakking terrorist take power. There was no perspective to be had on the slaughter of the quorum and loyal crewmen and women. There was no perspective to be had on the frakking contractors who cut corners when they built Galactica. Maybe there would be in time, but not today.

He had to figure out how to fix the old girl so she could continue to defend the fleet. Without her, they were all dead and he an admiral without a ship. She had seen them through so much but like the flesh and blood woman he loved more than life, an insidious cancer was eating silently away at her.

Closing his eyes, he imagined the delicate, strong-willed beauty standing in his shower. She was fading. He saw it daily, slowly for now, but soon, too godsdamned soon, it would be faster and there wasn’t a motherfrakking thing he could do to stop it. Hell, there’d been only a slim chance of medical science helping her and he was just a soldier. What the hell could he possibly do to save her? Not a damned thing. He was going to lose her to an enemy he had no way to fight. And if he didn’t get Galactica fixed, he wouldn’t be able to protect her from those he could.

Hearing Laura cough in the shower, Bill rose and went to the service cart, grabbed the decanter of whiskey and made his way back to his desk. He poured himself another glass then opened the drawer in his desk with a wince. He pulled out the bottle of painkillers Cottle had given him then reached for the comm unit receiver. He picked it up, asked for the Chief.

He couldn’t save both his girls but he had to try to repair the one in order to protect the other and the people she’d so desperately been trying to save — even if it meant using cylon technology to do it.

He hated it, hated having no options, being helpless and dozens of other things these days, but there was no other alternative.

Drops of whiskey trailing down his chin, he gave the order.

< Verse 15: In the Lamplight | Verse 17: Touch, Feel, Love >