Part 3: Reverence of Life

Time had no meaning as melancholy engulfed her heart, its hold broken only when a knock came at the hatch.

Taking a deep breath, she managed to pull herself together. She straightened, wiped the corners of her eyes and got up from the chair, exerting control. She was President Roslin again.

“Madam President.” Her aide entered the room and set a stack of files on the large dinning table to her right.

“Tory.” Laura gestured toward one of the chairs. “So what’s on agenda today?”

The dark haired woman lifted her eyebrows. “You mean what isn’t on the agenda today?”

And so the train rolled on.

The people in the fleet were starting to stir with unrest, especially with all the rumors going around surrounding the Demetrius. This could and most likely would get ugly. Laura had already yielded to the inevitability of it.

The rest of the afternoon was long and tedious. The issues on the table all vied for her attention. Like a hoard of clawing creatures, they pulled the weary woman in several different directions at once with merciless grips that threatened to tear her apart. It was exhausting.

Even after Tory departed, the work continued. There were reports upon reports to go over and a never-ceasing string of phone calls from the vice-president.

By the time Laura was through dealing with everyone’s problems for that day, she felt like a hollow shell. Between the Quorum and court of public opinion, she was empty, used up. The stress of her job was as effective as the cancer and diloxin at draining the life out of her.

And all of it conspired against her appetite. She loathed having to eat but she needed nourishment.

Dialing up the galley, she had them send over the usual, algae, which she ended up picking at in disinterest.

She wished Bill were there to distract her with conversation but he was still in CIC, working late as he often did. She couldn’t help it. She was eager to see him, eager to hear his voice, couldn’t wait for him to get home―and this was their home.

Giving up on her unappetizing repast, Laura rose and wearily made her way toward the lavatory, her fingers undoing the buttons of her blazer in the process. As she shed her business attire, she decided she would discard President Roslin for the day too. No more business tonight, in any form―if everyone would allow it. She needed the break. So did Bill.

By the time Laura heard the clang of the hatch being opened and then shut, she had brushed her teeth and donned her pajamas. Hurriedly, she splashed water on her face, dabbed her skin dry with a small towel then exited the lavatory.

She stopped her in tracks when her eyes landed on him.

He stood beside his desk, the buttons of his uniform jacket undone as his gaze rested on the notebook she’d forgotten there earlier. His fingers were lightly brushing against the adhesive tape covering the leftover ‘joint’ from that night on New Caprica. She could see traces of a smile in his profile.

“Those were good times.” Laura’s voice wavered.

He turned to look at her, the expression on his face matching what she suspected hers contained—a sad nostalgia. “Yes.”

Laura slowly made her way over to him, her eyes never leaving his. The love she saw in those blue depths made her insides quiver, his openness stirring her in ways…

She wasn’t stupid. She knew what it was, knew that she was in lo—

No, she couldn’t. Not yet. She wasn’t ready to hear herself say it. Not verbally, not mentally. It would leave her too vulnerable, and she wasn’t ready for that, but maybe…

Some day soon.

“I really miss those days.” Her green eyes flickered.

“I do to.” His voice was low and raspy as his arms encircled her waist, pulled her closer.

A tear rolled down Laura’s cheek. She leaned forward, brought her lips to his in a kiss so soft, it nearly sent her careening into another realm of existence. Her mouth moved with and against his, slowly deepening the connection. She explored and tasted in a way she hadn’t for a very long time.

Bill relished it, was blown away by the woman kissing him. He felt any and all tensions between them vanish, replaced by a deep and powerful intimacy. He embraced it, succumbed to it, his ears filled with the sound of their breathy sighs as hands clutched and caressed.

Laura was washed away too, desire blossoming in flesh she’d have thought incapable of any. And yet it wasn’t enough. It was muted, a betrayal of her body. She was too weak. The frakking cancer and diloxin were robbing her yet again of the one thing she wanted and needed most.

Tears flowed and a small whimper escaped her throat despite her efforts to stifle both.

Bill saw and heard. He understood.

Slowly, he pulled away from her lips and proceeded to kiss her brow. “It’s okay,” he murmured.

“Is it?” Laura heard the bitterness in her voice, clutched him tighter as his strong hands rubbed her back soothingly. She softened her tone. “I’m sorry. Gods how I wish things could just—”

“I know.”

Laura laced her arms around his neck and buried her face below his chin.

Bill took a slow breath as she melted further against him. He held her as if she might break. He ached inside, the need to protect her so strong it nearly brought him to his knees.

It always shocked him when they found themselves in moments like these, no emotional filters between them as they admitted without a word that they needed one another. In these moments, nothing else mattered, not even the passion and fleshly needs they longed to indulge. They were not defeated and life, even in the face of almost-certain death, fought and demanded to be venerated, reminding them that it was meant to be lived, its joys shared.

There weren’t many of those to be had these days, but they had their own way of escaping, and it was a lovely one. Laura requested it, a whisper against his skin.

“Would you read to me?”

Bill smiled and as he pulled back. “Just give me a moment.”

Laura watched as he went to retrieve a set of clean tanks and sweat pants from his dresser. Once he’d disappeared in the head, she turned off all the lights except for the small lamp that hung on the wall just above the pillows on the rack. As the faint sound of running water filled the room, she pulled the covers down and climbed in.

Sleeping on Colonial One was dreadful. With a small curtain as the only barrier between her private space and the rest of the ship, it lacked privacy and prevented true relaxation. It was different here.

Bill’s rack wasn’t much more comfortable than her cot in some ways, but it still felt more like a bedroom. At the very least, it was private, giving her a place to be everything she could not be publicly. There was normalcy here and the freedom in being a woman who was loved. She knew that she was as she watched Bill approach the rack, book in hand.

Shifting closer to the back wall, Laura made room for her lover. He climbed in next to her and settled against the pillow. She lifted her head and he slipped his arm beneath her.

Once situated, Bill opened the book, cleared his throat and began reading to the woman he loved. “Chapter Three…”

The slow rise and fall of his torso, the soft vibrations as he spoke in a low voice, the soft thumping of his heart—she could feel and hear all those things as she cuddled against him. Inhaling, she took in his scent, loving the smell of his soap and of him. She nestled closer as he continued to read, angling her face toward his neck. She forgot about everything but the two of them for the second time that day and, despite her still-weakened state, Laura felt at peace.

“This is nice,” she interrupted softly.

Bill smiled, turned his head to gently kiss her forehead. “It is,” he murmured against her skin.

“You know, whatever happens when we’re out there doing our jobs…” she began then took a slow, cleansing breath before continuing, “Let’s just never neglect these moments.” Strong arms pulled her even closer and she closed her eyes, content when she confessed, “I remember you once said, ‘sometimes we forget what we’re fighting for’. Well, I’m fighting for this.”

At her words, Bill’s eyes filled with unshed tears. He understood, all too painfully, the need to hold on to and cherish these quiet times spent together. He clung to them and the promise of more every day.

“Same here,” he rasped, his wavering with a delicate blend of joy and sorrow.

The fear that time might very well be running out as the cancer was ever present. It was bordered on panic at times, prompting him to almost obsessively take advantage of each and every second he got to spend with her. And yet, hope lingered―it had to, else he would go mad with rage and despair―and flared brightly now at her words. She was fighting for them, weary beyond words and yet she still fought. It was the most precious gift she could ever give him.

She tilted her head to catch his eyes and, in that moment, they shared a long gaze filled with silent understanding. Tears fell freely beneath it, leaving glistening trails on her cheeks. Then, with a smile that defied all that was worrisome and dreary in her life, she reached out to him with a look of pure love, filtered through the beloved green sea of her eyes.

Bill returned it. Then, with calloused fingers, he sought out her chin and drew her to him, mouth seeking hers, finding it and capturing it in a kiss so tender as to shatter his heart.

She hummed softly beneath it and another surge of warm tears, his and hers, flowed in salty and sinuous paths, mingling.

With his thumb, Bill followed the trail from the corner of her eye to her jaw-line, his mouth unceasing in its worship of hers. He thrilled knowing that her increasingly fragile frame still molded perfectly to his, that his kiss still fired her, that she needed him as he needed her.

She was extraordinary, even in the shadow of death, beautiful beyond words. And with such a capacity to love. It was so much greater than she realized, a secret that he knew, one of the many he was uncovering. That was his privilege, his honor and her gift, unknowingly, to him.

Pulling her lips from his, Laura sought out the midnight pools that gazed at her in such wonder and reverence. She smiled. This was her lover, her guardian and protector, the man who held her heart. She wondered if he knew, if he could possibly know that he was her world.

Looking into those eyes, she believed he had to, but was waiting for her to say it, to tell him, to whisper it in his ear, against his lips. She wanted to—gods, how she wanted to―but she didn’t know how. She promised to learn, though, kissing the hand that was still touching the side of her face.

“Can you read a bit more?” she asked.

Bill smiled, nodded subtly then, with effort, tore his eyes from hers and settled his gaze on the page and resumed reading to her, his Caprica City. Gradually, he felt her relax and her breathing slow, sleep claiming her.

He stopped reading and looked down. Her cheek was nestled against his arm, nose just touching his shoulder. All traces of worry were absent from her features. He wished it could be so always. She deserved to be free of the burdens she carried, she deserved more moments like these. She’d done so much for him, for all of them.

Moving carefully so as not to disturb her, Bill set the book aside then stretched up and turned off the lamp. He then pressed a soft kiss to her forehead. She sighed in her sleep. The sound touched his soldier’s heart and ushered him into the embrace of sleep and the coming of dreams of her and a cabin by a stream.

< Part 2: Recollections