In His Corner

“Damn fool.”

Despite the fact Admiral William Adama was sitting on a bed in the Sickbay of his great warship, his face a bloody mess and his ribs aching, Laura Roslin had to smother her smile. The crusty grumbling of the ship’s medical officer, Dr. Cottle, struck her as funny for some reason and a case of the giggles threatened. She suspected it was some sort of nervous reaction to the stress she’d been under earlier while watching Chief Tyrol pound his commanding officer without mercy. That had been one of the most difficult things she’d ever witnessed, made even more difficult by the fact she knew the admiral had provoked it, had wanted it even.

Bill Adama had taken the beating as punishment for letting them down, for failing to protect them from the Cylons on New Caprica. It was his penance — self assigned, willingly accepted and publicly administered. Laura understood it, even if she didn’t like the obvious toll it had taken on the man. And she admired immensely the fact that, even though he’d been physically injured, he had not been defeated, that even though he’d been the one to go down for the count, he had emerged victor in the battle of hearts and minds. He had successfully refocused his crew on what was important, let them know he loved them but couldn’t let that love get in the way of his duty to them and the fleet, and reminded them of their own duties.

As Laura looked at him now, she could tell he was physically hurting. His stoic demeanor could not hide that from her. She knew him too well, and it was in his eyes when he opened them and looked over the doctor’s head at her. She gave him a compassionate look and her smile automatically gentled to one of sympathy when the doctor started pressing around on his ribs, making him wince.

“Damned stubborn fool,” Cottle continued. “The man’s half your age, Admiral. He could have killed you.”

His patient didn’t say a word. He just took it, grimacing now and again with his hands white-knuckling the edge of the bed, as Cottle prodded and sent his nurse after bandages and painkillers.

“Well, I don’t think anything’s broken,” the white-haired physician pronounced eventually. “But you’re gonna be damned sore for a while.”

“It’s better than being shot,” Bill commented, to which Cottle shook his head then got up and dawdled beyond the privacy curtain, mumbling under his breath, saying, “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

Once they were alone, Laura wandered over to the bed. She laid Bill’s uniform jacket next to him and set his glasses atop it. He’d given her both items to hold for him just before the match began.

“Thank you.”

Laura looked at him and summoned a smile. Her eyes, however, were drawn eventually to the cuts on each side of his face and the blood that coated his cheeks. She looked at them only a moment or two before she turned to the instrument tray beside her and reached for the sterile gauze pads that the nurse had placed there earlier. She opened up the bottle of antiseptic next to them, dampened one of the pads, then moved back to him. His deep blue eyes found hers unerringly and he stared at her with what she would describe as a mixture of curiosity and surprise as she took up a position directly in front of him.

“All right?” she asked.

He nodded.

“This is probably going to sting,” she warned even though she was pretty sure he already knew it. He said nothing, so she set about cleaning him up. His eyes snapped shut at the first touch and he let out a slight grunt as she cleaned the cut. He eased, though, when she moved on to the trails of drying blood that ran down to his jaw, wiping gently at the left side of his face. She frowned, seeing she wasn’t making much headway, surmising that she really needed a cloth and some warm water to do a proper job. Trading for a clean pad, she resumed and felt him take a long, deep breath as she worked. His hand reached for his ribs as he did and she instinctively reached and placed hers atop it, offering a comforting, bracing touch. “You feeling okay?” she asked.

“Yeah,” he replied, his eyes opening and seeking hers out. He summoned up a smile for her and she couldn’t help but return it. “You’d have made a good doctor,” he told her, making her smile brighten.

“I doubt it, Bill,” she said softly, quipping, “I’m not cranky enough.”

He gave out a soft laugh and bowed his head, shaking it slightly as he did. It was such a Bill Adama thing, that sly grin, pulling at his mouth as he looked away, that he could patent it. It always delighted Laura when she could evoke that reaction in him. Neither of them had laughter often enough in their daily lives.

Unfortunately, the move impeded her efforts to clean him up, so she placed a hand under his chin and gently coaxed him to look up again. She resumed her task without a word, but knew he was watching her. She could feel his gaze on her and it warmed her in ways it wasn’t wise to feel in Sickbay. Not with Bill Adama sitting on a bed, pliant to her touch. It brought to mind memories of him in another bed, hers namely, equally pliant, however in an entirely different way.

New Caprica had brought that unexpected joy to them. Where they had connected prior as leaders and colleagues, as friends and human beings, while on that planet, for a brief time, they’d connected as a man and woman, as lovers and more, and it had only deepened their trust in one another in all other respects. It hadn’t been a torrid affair but a quiet one, handled respectfully and discreetly, and on some of the nights they had shared, they’d simply slept. But not since the liberation of the settlement.

Returned to their positions and a fleet to look after, personal considerations, though not forgotten or ignored completely, had taken a back seat to their responsibilities. A dinner here and there. A little conversation when they could. That’s all they’d really shared since and Laura wasn’t surprised. It was the nature of how things were, of their respective jobs … and prudent, given the volatile nature of politics in the fleet. It wouldn’t do for the citizens at large to know that their two primary leaders had been involved on New Caprica, much less now, while holding those positions.

And gods forbid anyone on the quorum got wind of it. It wouldn’t matter what happened when or that what Laura shared with Bill Adama wasn’t about, well, jumping into bed, never had been, never would be. They would never understand any of it because Laura wasn’t sure she did. She just knew that she had a soul-deep connection to Bill that went way beyond anything she’d ever conceived of having in her life. And she wasn’t going to let it go. It was too special, too vital to her now to let anyone or anything tell her she had to give it up, for any reason. Not when Bill Adama was her companion of heart and mind, the one person with whom she could share her thoughts and express her feelings without fear of judgment or political and public backlash. Not when she cared so deeply for him, this man who was there for her, a constant presence even when he wasn’t present, a living, breathing force in her life that gave her strength untold and comforted her in ways she’d never even known she needed comforting. It was amazing to feel so bound with someone. It was liberating really, Laura mused, wondering if he felt anything at all like she did.

Glancing up, she caught his gaze and paused in what she was doing. He was remarkably unguarded at the moment, tenderness suffusing his features in a way she’d seen before but not often. Earlier, standing beside the boxing ring, she’d seen a flash of it and had wondered at it, what had prompted it. Now, she thought she had a pretty good idea and smiled. Memories were powerful things. And, yes, she saw so much more than nostalgia in those twin blue oceans of emotion and thought.

“Oh.”

Laura watched Bill’s gaze shutter away at the soft exclamation and suppressed her smile when she looked over at the nurse who’d entered the treatment area. The woman gazed at her in surprise, apparently amazed that a) Laura was willing to get her hands dirty, or b) that the president of the Twelve Colonies was rendering medical aid to the admiral of the Colonial Fleet. Or it might have been both, or something else altogether. Regardless, Laura ignored the reaction and simply requested, “Could you bring me a clean cloth and some warm water?”

Pulling herself out of her shocked state, the nurse nodded. “Yes, ma’am. Right away,” she said then bustled off in search of what Laura requested.

Laura gave up on the gauze pads in lieu of the promised water and took a moment to express the thoughts she’d been entertaining since about halfway through the boxing match. “You know, what you did tonight was crazy,” she said then gave him a look of understanding, “But I admire it.”

He didn’t say anything, just looked at her, his gaze as wise as an owl’s, making her have the sudden urge to kiss him silly. She had no idea why other than the fact she knew it would make him smile. Fortunately — or unfortunately, depending on how one looked at it — she had no chance to follow through with the impulse as the nurse returned with a small pan of warm water and a stack of clean cloths.

“Thank you,” Laura replied as she picked up one of the cloths.

“I can take over, Madame President,” the nurse said as Laura dipped the cloth into the water.

“It’s all right, I’ve got it,” Laura replied and waited until the nurse departed before turning back to the task she’d set for herself.

Bill had bowed his head again, but brought it up when she said, “Look at me.” She resumed cleaning him up and felt a surge of triumph when she made more progress with the warm water and cloth. He closed his eyes as she worked, steadily wiping away the dark red paths until his face was clean. The cuts pulled open a couple times and she had to re-clean them again with the antiseptic. He winced but quietly endured.

By the time Cottle returned, she was putting butterflies on the larger of the cuts and had the admiral looking much more presentable, if you didn’t take into account the bruising and swelling around his eyes. It didn’t look good, but she’d seen worse over the years of watching the fights. Overall, she thought he’d done a decent job of protecting his face.

“Not bad,” Cottle muttered as he looked over her handiwork. He reached past her, quickly ran a swab over Bill’s shoulder then unceremoniously jabbed the needle into that spot and pushed the plunger, grouching, “This’ll help with the pain.”

Laura flinched, but not Bill, who simply turned his head and gave the doctor a glare hot enough to melt the bulkhead. “That’s enough, Major,” he growled in a tone that brooked no argument. He had clearly taken his punishment and was done being scolded by the physician. Cottle heeded the warning and withdrew the needle with more care.

Laura was annoyed, though. Cottle was a good doctor, better than most, but his bedside manner sometimes left a lot to be desired, even if it did stem from the fact he really did care about his patients. She let him know she was not happy with that little move, cutting him a look as she took the second swab from him. He rolled his eyes at her and huffed, “Ah gods.”

Laura ignored him as she rubbed the antiseptic on Bill’s shoulder where the needle had stuck him. She then picked up the small bandage laying next to his hand and placed it over the area.

“I need to wrap those ribs,” Cottle said, when she’d finished.

Laura moved out of the doctor’s way as he picked up the rolled compression bandages, only to step up again when Bill began trying to remove his undershirts. It was the audible hitch in his breath that prompted her to move back. It wasn’t loud, but she knew him well enough to know that if he was making it at all, he was in considerable discomfort. She moved his hands out of the way then took hold of the hem and drew the shirts up until they were out of the way. She let out a thready breath as she stepped away and allowed the doctor room to work.

Cottle didn’t even get started before a commotion from the entrance of Sickbay got his attention. “What the frak’s going on out there?!” he snapped as he rapidly moved from out of the curtained area. Laura wasn’t worried, though. She heard the laughter of one Captain Kara Thrace and figured whatever it was, wasn’t too bad. Of course, it didn’t take much to put the temperamental physician into a snit, especially when it was occurring in his domain. Laura heard him bitching up a storm as he gave orders for his new patients to occupy this bed and that one. “Damn it, hold still,” she heard him snap, which was followed by a loud cackle from Thrace and a clatter of metal instruments on the floor.

On the bed in front of her, Bill Adama sat silently, his hands again braced on the side of the bed. He looked immeasurably tired and she figured he probably was eager to get to his quarters and into his own bed. Understanding that need, understanding the man, she went to him. She reached for the bandages, speaking softly, “I haven’t done this before, but I think I can manage … if you want.”

He nodded and sat up straight again. Laura winced seeing up close the beginnings of bruises along his ribs on either side, and even his stomach. She suppressed the urge to touch him, offering a measure of comfort, and simply began wrapping the bandage around him. When she passed it behind him the first time, he turned his face into her neck and murmured her name. That soft utterance broke her hold on her desire to comfort. Against all prudence, she dropped a kiss to his shoulder. It was a quick one, but she heard him sigh in response. No more was said. No more was done. She just went about binding his ribs.

Cottle returned by the time she was done. He promptly inspected her work. “Not bad,” he commented then addressed his commanding officer. “I suppose you want to get out of here now?”

“Yes,” Bill said as he reached to pull down his undershirts. Laura watched him grimace slightly as he did so. Once he had them halfway down, he reached for his glasses and put them on.

“Go on then. I’ve got other patients to contend with thanks to this damned dance of yours,” Cottle replied as he drew a cigarette out of his coat pocket and lit up. He then dismissed them with a wave of his hand, a trail of smoke curling after the motion. “The nurse has some painkillers for you,” he said. “Pick them up from her on the way out. And for frak’s sake, follow the dosage instructions,” he continued, throwing a glance Laura’s way before departing.

“What the hell was that about?” Bill asked her. She just shook her head and went over to him as he stood up from the bed. She pulled his undershirts the rest of the way down then reached for his uniform jacket. She helped him slide it on, telling him, “You really don’t want to know.”

As she stepped around him, he caught her arm and met her gaze. “Are you all right?” he asked, his voice a soft rasp filled with concern, his eyes fairly blazing with it. It surprised Laura but she knew it shouldn’t have. Her battle with breast cancer really wasn’t all that long ago. She quickly sought to soothe his worry, covering his hand with hers as she gave him a gentle smile. “I’m fine, Bill,” she told him, confessing, “It was something from before.”

He looked at her for several long moments before murmuring, “Good.” He then took her hand in his and placed it in the crook of his arm. “Let’s go.”

They slipped quietly out of Sickbay, the nurse handing them a bottle of pain medication as they departed.

Their Marine guard fell into step behind them on the walk to Bill’s quarters, changing their pace when their commanding officer began to slow. Laura glanced over at him. He looked so tired. She knew part of it was physical exhaustion but it was also a result of the shot Cottle had given him. She didn’t figure he’d be awake too much longer at this rate.

Slipping her hand from the bend of his arm, she wrapped her arm around his back. A smile curled the corner of his mouth as he watched where he placed his feet. “I’ll make it,” he said, his voice a sleepy-soft rasp that she knew well from whispered “good nights” on New Caprica. It warmed her heart.

When they reached Bill’s quarters, Laura nodded to the Marines who shut the door behind them. She walked Bill to his bed, helping him slide his jacket off before he sat on the side of it. She tossed the jacket to the nearby chair then knelt in front of him to take off his boots. “You don’t have to do that,” he said as she began tugging at the laces.

“You planning on sleeping with them on?” she countered, then looked up at him, a wily smile curling her mouth. “Or do you want someone else to do it?”

“Huh,” he grunted and Laura glanced up to see him take off his glasses and run his hand over his face.

She giggled. “Well, it’s not like I haven’t done it before.”

He looked at her and she cocked an eyebrow, daring him to deny it. He didn’t, of course, but he did give her a knowing look, accompanied by a smile that made her heart flutter.

After sitting his boots aside, near the foot of the bed, she rose to stand in front of him. He fixed her with such a tender look that Laura found her hands rising to cup his face before she even knew what she was doing. She smiled at herself and at him as she caressed him tenderly, mindful of his injuries. Bending, she kissed him, just pressing her lips to his. His hands drifted up to hold her waist when she lingered even longer than she’d initially intended.

Time seemed to stand still for Laura. It had been months since they’d touched in any way remotely familiar, much less kissed. The feelings it stirred overwhelmed her and memories swamped her. She’d missed this. She’d missed him, more than she’d allowed herself to acknowledge before this moment. She whispered his name breathlessly when she withdrew. It took her a moment or two before she dared open her eyes, and when she did, she couldn’t help but smile. He was asleep sitting up, his hands having gone lax at her hips. It was strangely adorable.

“Bill,” she whispered.

No response.

She tried again.

Still nothing. Cottle had clearly given him the good stuff.

She tried one more time, changing tack.

“Admiral.”

That got him. His hands gripped her waist hard and his eyes opened and fixed on hers, a flare of alertness in his blue gaze, more alert than she’d even expected. She chalked it up to his years of military life and training. Seeing her, though, he relaxed. After a heartbeat, he murmured an apology.

Laura shook her head, “It’s all right,” she whispered. “You need to lay down.”

He nodded and she released him so he could get up into the bed. He did so without pain, she noted, confirming that Cottle had indeed given him some of the really good stuff. She was glad of it. He needed to rest and that medication would assure that.

Laura picked up Bill’s glasses from the bed and held onto them until he was settled. She then reached up and laid them on the small outcropping that served as a headboard. He touched her face as she did so, his hand sliding up through her hair then moving to her caress her face. She smiled at him, noting his gaze had gained that gentled, almost faraway look again.

“Stay?”

That one word request, spoken so low in that gentle rasp resounded in places within Laura Roslin as nothing else ever had. It was like a loud clap of thunder and yet it rolled over her with all the gentleness of small wave, a fluid caress to every part of her inside and out. He was the only man who’d ever done that and it left her breathless now, just as it had the first time. It filled her with feelings she wasn’t sure she could name, or that she was even ready to, but they were definitely real and they definitely weren’t going anywhere. And she was having a devil of a time resisting them.

“I shouldn’t,” she whispered.

He looked at her for many long moments, his eyes moving from hers and over her face before returning again. He then said what she was already thinking.

“But you will.”

Laura let out a soft hum of surrender and nodded.

He smiled and his eyes drifted shut again. She took hold of his hand, caressing it gently as she lowered it, bringing it to rest across his stomach. He sighed softly when she released him. With quiet efficiency, she kicked off her shoes and then unbuttoned her jacket. She laid it over his on the chair and scooted her shoes closer to his. She then carefully climbed over him to the opposite side of the bed. She cuddled near his side, resting her head on the pillow next to his. He turned his head and kissed her brow when she laid her hand atop his. She sighed and closed her eyes, whispering, “Sleep, Bill.”

“You, too, Laura,” he murmured against her brow then relaxed and drifted off.

Laura pressed a kiss to his shoulder and snuggled closer before joining him in slumber.