Slide 31: A Long Day’s Night

Laura Roslin was jolted awake when Bill Adama was seized by a sudden fit of coughing. She was dumped unceremoniously from his embrace as he sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed. She didn’t complain, though. He sounded just awful.

Moving from behind him, Laura exited the bed and went to the service cart, poured him a glass of water then snatched up the inhaler from his desk on the way back. She handed him the water first. He took a swallow then reached for the inhaler. He took a hit, grimacing at the taste.

When his coughs returned almost immediately, albeit with less force, she asked, “Cottle?”

Bill hesitated in replying, which prompted her to reach for the comm unit. His hand stopped hers. He shook his head, continued to cough. Though he sounded better in some ways, she didn’t like how tight his breaths sounded. She detoured from the comm unit to the lamp, switched it on. His color was okay, but he didn’t look comfortable at all.

“You’re hurting,” she said simply.

“Just tight,” he managed between hacks. “Need to relax.”

“Like hell,” she told him in no uncertain terms. “I’m calling Cottle. You can be mad at me later.”

She picked up the handset and asked for the ship’s physician. Cottle didn’t have to be told anything, he could hear Bill through the line. The doctor said, simply, “I’m on my way.”

Handset returned to its place, Laura ran a hand over Bill’s head, down his neck to his upper back. She rubbed her hands in circles, hoping to soothe.

Bill looked up at her, not in annoyance, which was a bit surprising but not as surprising as what she saw there — serious, territorial.

“What?” she asked.

“Put some clothes on.”

Laura threw him a doting look, touched and amused by his sudden concern for the fact she was stark naked. “Don’t worry. I have no intention of parading around in the altogether in front of Cottle,” she told him.

“Good.”

Smiling to beat all, Laura kissed his brow then retrieved his robe from where she’d placed it earlier. She pulled it on, belted it up and made her way back over to him. She took the water glass from him and went and refilled it. Returning, she sat beside him on the bed and again rubbed his back, keeping hold of the glass in case he wanted it.

Under her continued touch, he eased some and even managed to take a deeper breath. His coughs lessened with it. She glided her hand up and rubbed his neck. He was incredibly tense, and only got more so when Cottle arrived with a portable oxygen tank. Laura let the doctor in, nodding her thanks to the guards, who discreetly closed the hatch.

Laura stayed out of the way as Cottle set up the tank. He stacked Bill’s pillows then handed Bill the mask and told him to “lay back.” Bill reclined against the pillows and Cottle looked back and forth between them. Laura didn’t understand why until he mumbled, “Least you both have some sense.”

At that comment, Laura felt like picking up one of the items from Bill’s desk and hurling it at the doctor. She resisted the urge mainly because she feared whatever she threw might glance off Cottle and hit Bill. Laura didn’t dislike the physician — in fact, she was rather fond of him and found him a better-than-average doctor — but he could be damned infuriating at times.

“We’re not stupid,” she directed at Cottle, who opened his mouth to make what she was sure was a smart-ass comment. Whatever he was going to say never materialized, though, because she shot him a glare that said she wasn’t in the mood for his gruff banter.

Cottle heeded the warning and fished a syringe out of his pocket. He had Bill stretch out his arm. “This is a steroid,” he told his patient. “It will help open up your breathing passages. I’m only giving you a partial dose since you’re using the inhaler.”

The look on Bill’s face said he didn’t care what it was so long as it worked. Laura’s heart went out to him, recalling some similar symptoms she’d experienced when she’d been battling breast cancer.

“Stay elevated and keep that mask on for a couple hours,” Cottle ordered then glanced at Laura. “If he gets worse or his breathing doesn’t ease by then, have those marines get his ass to sickbay.”

Laura nodded her understanding and, once Cottle was gone, wandered back to the bedside, gazed down at her admiral. He looked tired.

Looking at the clock, she saw they’d only been asleep for a few hours, not nearly enough rest for either of them with all the events of the night before … and now this.

Gently, Laura glided her fingertips along the length of his arm, from his shoulder to his hand. His fingers closed around hers when she touched his palm. “Feel any better?” she asked, seeing him take a deep breath.

He nodded then patted the space beside him on the bed. Laura smiled as her hands went to the belt on the robe. He watched her undo it then shrug the garment off, letting it fall to the floor. He grinned behind the mask in response.

“That’s not fair,” came his muffled, half-hearted complaint.

“Want me to put it back on?” she asked as she crawled over him then stretched out in the space between his body and the bulkhead.

“No.” It was a chuckle that sparked a brief cough.

Laura grinned as she reached for the covers and pulled them up around them. “Cottle may have been wrong about the sense thing,” she said as she rested her head on his shoulder. “On both our parts.”

“Maybe,” Bill conceded.

Laura patted his chest, slipped her hand down and rubbed his belly. “Okay, but we’re not telling him.”

Bill curled his arm up around her and hugged her close. “We do have more sense than that.”

Laura giggled. “Yes.”

They quieted and it wasn’t long before Bill drifted off, well before the two-hour window Cottle had designated. Laura ended up easing out of his embrace and sitting beside him, watching him sleep. She was tired, too, but knew she needed to stay awake so she could turn off the oxygen when the time came. So, knees drawn to her chest, arms around them and her toes tucked just under the edge of his arm, she propped her chin on a knee and kept watch over her lover.

His breathing eased as time passed, falling into the slow, deep rhythm with which she’d become familiar. It was reassuring. His earlier difficulties had concerned her, even if Cottle had tagged his diagnosis with the adjective “mild.” She wondered how much Bill’s having spent the night working in cold air after breathing in the acrid smoke had exacerbated his condition, if his being utterly exhausted just made things seem worse than they really were. In the end, though, it didn’t matter so long as he healed.

The fleet needed him. They simply could not survive without him — definitely not with Gaius frakking Baltar in charge — and Laura couldn’t imagine a universe without Bill in it. Just the fleeting thought of it made her go cold inside. She actually shivered from it and found herself briskly running her hands down her shins to ward off the chill.

Laura wanted to snuggle against him again, to enjoy his warmth, but she didn’t. She waited the time Cottle decreed then very carefully eased the mask from Bill’s face, a little surprised she didn’t wake him doing so. He usually woke easily, almost any movement or sound and he would be instantly alert to determine if he needed to report to the CIC. But he didn’t stir now, at least not until she reached over him to hang the mask on the oxygen tank and shut off the valve, and even then, he only sighed her name. She wondered if he was dreaming of her or just sensed her nearness even in a deep slumber.

Before laying back down, Laura hovered over him a moment, eyes studying his weathered features, taking in the perfect imperfections that made up the face she had come to find strangely and wonderfully beautiful. Heart trembling, Laura closed her eyes and touched her lips to his, kissed him lightly, softly. His mouth moved against hers, returning the caress. There was a soft smack when they parted.

Laura gazed down at her lover, found his eyes open the slightest bit and on her. She smiled at him, kissed him again, once, gently, then settled beside him, angling herself in the narrow space so that she could lay her head on his shoulder. She shut her eyes then and let sleep take her.

They slept nearly eighteen hours, exhaustion clearly catching up with them. In fact, Laura was pretty sure they would have slept longer had Cottle not called to check on them. It was a very grumpy Bill who picked up the handset and growled at the ship’s medical officer and it was a very grumpy Bill who told him to “frak off, Major” before hanging up. He did it all without a cough.

“You sound better,” Laura murmured as she burrowed closer to Bill.

“I am,” he mumbled, turning onto his side and pulling her into his arms.

They went back to sleep, or dozed in and out rather, until nature decided Laura had to get up.

“Frak,” she muttered and tried to move. Her bedmate held her tight. She took hold of the hand that had taken possession of a good expanse of her lower back, coaxed, “Bill, I need to…”

“Head?”

“Uh-huh.”

He let her go and she climbed out over him. Her limbs were still half asleep and she damned near fell out of the bed. She giggled at her utter lack of grace and looked back to see Bill peering over his shoulder at her. His grumpiness had apparently disappeared. He was grinning ear to ear.

“All right?” he asked, his amusement saturating his baritone, which was raspier than usual this morning.

“Yes,” she tossed back to him then she set a course for the lavatory.

When her morning ablutions were finished, Laura returned to find Bill up. He’d donned his uniform and was sitting on the side of the bed, putting on his shoes.

“Going somewhere?” she asked.

“Saul’s coming by and I need to check in with the Chief. Then CIC,” he replied.

Laura wandered over and picked up his robe, which he’d obviously retrieved from the floor and lain across the foot of the bed. “Breakfast?” she inquired as she began putting on the heavy garment.

A pair of fingers slid along her jawline, tilted her chin toward him as she settled the robe on her shoulders. She looked to the giver of the caress, her eyes immediately falling shut when she saw him leaning toward her. He kissed her gently. She smiled at him when he pulled back.

“Morning,” he grinned.

“Morning.” Her response was noticeably breathy, making her want to laugh at herself. She didn’t. Instead, she asked, “Laundry?”

“Jaffee’s bringing it with breakfast.” Bill drew the robe lapels closed, turning her to face him as he did. He then reached for the belt on the robe and tied it about her waist.

“I can dress myself, you know?” she teased.

He just smiled and kissed her brow before heading to the other room. There was a knock on the hatch as he neared the table. He detoured over and spun the wheel, admitted the young man, Private Jaffee, who always brought Bill’s breakfast. He bore today an additional parcel — the promised laundry bag. Laura took it from him after he set the breakfast tray on the table.

“Thank you, Private. You’ve saved me from wandering around smelling like smoke.”

The young man nodded and smiled, blushed noticeably. Laura returned the smile then ducked into the lavatory to dress. When she emerged, she glanced at the chronometer then joined Bill, who sat at the table sipping coffee and looking over reports.

“I need a ride,” she said, dropping into the chair across from him and picking up the cup of coffee he poured her.

He glanced up over the rim of his glasses. “Back to the surface?”

“Yes,” Laura sighed. “Much as I’d like to play hooky today and hide out up here where it’s warm and there’s hot water, I do have a classroom full of children gathering in about an hour.” She picked up one of the pieces of toast from the tray, looked at it before adding, “And then there’s Baltar.”

“Frak, Baltar.”

Laura looked up at Bill. “No, thank you.” She took a bite of her toast and sipped her coffee, washing it down. “Seriously, Bill, we both know he would not react well to my being up here.”

Bill exhaled slowly, set his coffee down and met her gaze levelly, asked, “Is he having you watched?”

The question startled Laura for some reason. The possibility shouldn’t have, though. Baltar was intensely paranoid. “I don’t know. I haven’t really felt like…” she let her voice trail off.

“I’ll take care of it.” That’s all he said, in a completely matter-of-fact way. Laura considered asking him to elaborate then decided against it when he went back to his coffee and reports as if they’d been talking about the weather.

Laura knew Bill well enough to know that he wouldn’t discuss any thoughts or plans he had on the matter. Those were secreted away somewhere in that mind of his, that same compartment that hatched mission plans and sifted through strategies in the midst of battles. Nothing was coming out of there until he was ready for someone to know and she doubted he’d tell her before he did anything, to protect her. The less she knew the better in some instances. She didn’t care for being out of the loop, but she understood the necessity. And she trusted Bill.

Once they finished breakfast, Bill walked over to the comm unit beside the entry to his quarters and ordered a raptor prepped and Starbuck to pilot. He hung up the handset and looked to Laura, “Tell her to be discreet in getting you back, no showboating.”

Laura nodded. “Will she listen?” she asked as she headed to the doorway.

Bill’s tone was serious. “She knows the stakes.”

Laura glanced over her shoulder at him before pushing the hatch open. “Will you be coming down?”

“Yes.”

Warmth flooded her at his answer. She smiled at him. “See you soon then, Admiral.”

He lifted a hand, brushed a strand of her hair back from her temple, his expression immeasurably tender.

“You, too, Madam President.”

< Slide 30: Breathe | Slide 32: Thinking >