Joy and Sorrow

Admiral William Adama entered sickbay. The marine guard standing post around one of curtained patient areas nodded in deference to him then moved silently away, acceding to an unspoken need for privacy.

Stepping into the parting between the curtains, the commander of the Galactica gazed at the patient who occupied the bed. She was asleep, curled partially into a fetal position, knees drawn up toward her body, arms together, bent and pulled close to her chest. Her hands rested in front of her face, on the pillow, and held her glasses. Her hair … it was obviously not her own. Her expression was drawn and not at all peaceful.

Bill Adama sighed.

Laura Roslin, president of the Twelve Colonies, looked infinitely fragile.

And cold. She was visibly shivering.

“You here to get her?” The gruff but soft muttering at his shoulder alerted Bill to the arrival of the ship’s medical officer, Doc Cottle.

Bill didn’t reply. Cottle sighed.

“I wish I could get her to stay here. I could make her more comfortable if she’d let me.”

Bill considered the doctor’s words then discarded them. Laura would not stay in sickbay until it became her only choice, and he didn’t blame her. Cottle’s “more comfortable” meant more medication, which she despised the thought of. Plus there was no privacy in sickbay, no quiet, and she needed both. Bill could give her that in his quarters with armed marines outside the door.

“She’ll be comfortable soon enough,” Bill said finally.

Cottle’s lighter clicked as he opened it. “She needs more rest,” the physician replied as he lit his cigarette and blew out a small cloud of smoke.

Bill agreed. She rested well enough at night, but what energy the diloxin didn’t deplete, the stresses of her job did. He’d personally like to put the vice president and the Quorum out an airlock for constantly hounding her and making a difficult job all but impossible. Even Bill’s own son, Lee, who’d once been one of her staunchest supporters, had become a thorn in her side, something that irked Bill to no end.

Seeing Laura’s shivers increase, Bill issued a command. “Get a blanket.” He didn’t wait to see if Cottle obeyed before moving toward the bed. Knowing she slept lightly when she was in sickbay, he approached quietly so as not to startle her.

He woke her as he often did, with a light touch to her brow, his fingertips just brushing against her cool skin. She stirred, opened her eyes and looked up at him. Somewhere she found a smile for him. He returned it.

“Ready to go?”

Her smile faded. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

Bill held out a hand to her. She took it, her fingers cold in his palm. Her grip wasn’t as strong as it used to be, he also noted, as he helped her up into a sitting position. She swayed slightly for several moments before she got her bearings. She was clearly worn out. The shivers didn’t stop.

He would have worried except that’s how she was after every treatment these days. Cold to the bone and weary beyond words. Usually, he took her straight to his quarters so she could bathe and sleep, but not tonight. Tonight, she had a special meeting with the quorum to placate them over the upcoming joint mission with the Cylon rebels.

Bill didn’t like the idea of it, neither did Laura, but the bunch of whining, overgrown children were planning to undertake a no-confidence vote if she didn’t let them into the loop. It wasn’t entirely smart security wise, but it was better to quell the political turmoil.

Watching Laura close her eyes and groan softly, Bill frowned. “Are you sure you’re up for this?”

She let out a scoffing half-giggle, half-snort and peered up at him. “Would you be?”

“Not even on a good day,” he replied with a gentle grin.

Flashing him a smile, she reached up and put a hand on his shoulder, holding onto him as she pushed off the mattress with her other arm. As she stood and slipped her feet into her shoes, Bill gripped her upper arm and steadied her.

Cottle chose then to return, bearing the requested blanket.

Bill took it from him and laid it on the bed as Laura released his shoulder and began smoothing the wrinkles from her shirt and slacks. As she did, Bill reached for her suit jacket, which was draped over the chair behind him, the one he normally sat in when he read to her during her treatments. He handed the garment to her as Cottle began to fuss at her.

“You go straight to bed, young lady,” he sternly ordered.

Bill took in Laura’s expression at Cottle’s command and almost felt sorry for the doctor. It was a mistake to believe any outward signs of fragility hinted at weakness of the mind and spirit when it came to Laura Roslin. She was as tough and smart as they came. The quorum had already twisted her arm to get what they wanted; no one else was going to bully her today.

“I’ll go to bed after I’ve finished my job,” she told the doctor.

“You should be in bed right now,” Cottle replied.

“I agree and wish I were, but I have something I have to do first,” she countered then, with a clearly faked smile and dismissive tone, added, “Thank you, Doctor, for yet another wonderful experience with modern medicine.”

Cottle spun on his heels and left, smoke twirling around his head as he mumbled around the cigarette between his lips, “Stubborn … muleheaded … I’m only your doctor …”

Bill watched Laura wince as the doctor departed and knew she regretted her words. “He’s thicker skinned than that,” he assured her.

She turned bright blue eyes to him. “I still shouldn’t have said it.”

“I’ve said worse,” Bill confessed as he picked up the blanket from the bed. He then offered Laura his arm. “Come on. Let’s get this over with.”

Laura didn’t say much on the walk from sickbay to the flight deck. She leaned more and more on Bill’s arm the farther they walked. He wasn’t sure if it was because she felt weak or that she was cold. He figured it was probably both. It concerned him. He didn’t like seeing her like this, but knew there wasn’t anything he could do about it except offer her his strength and warmth. At the moment, he could only offer the former, but later, when they were alone in his quarters, he would huddle with her under the covers and help her get warm.

In the meantime, he had the blanket, which he draped over her lap after she settled in the rear jump-seat of the raptor. He took the seat opposite her, while one of her marine guards settled into the aft station. The remainder of the marine contingent was aboard the second raptor and a third, which carried the Cylon rebels’ leader.

Seeing Laura lean her head against the hull and close her eyes, Bill called out to their pilot, “Make it a smooth one.”

“You got it, Admiral,” Racetrack responded as she began powering up the craft.

The flight to Colonial One was a short one, but Bill watched the woman across from him briefly nod off, telling him she was more tired than she had let on. He would be glad when this little field trip was over so he could get her back to Galactica so she could really rest.

Laura opened her eyes when the raptor set down in the hold of the spaceliner that had become the seat of power for what remained of the Twelve Colonies. When she spied him watching her, one side of her mouth pulled up into a slight smile. It was an endearing expression that bespoke of the feelings between them, the ones they carefully nurtured and fiercely protected, and a degree of intimacy that went beyond that of colleagues and friends.

Bill returned it without a thought to the marine who sat somewhat between them and to the side. He suspected that their personal guards sensed that the relationship between their commanding officer and the president was more than professional, but they wisely said nothing. He was grateful for their loyalty, a trait his son lacked at times.

Lee was the reason for the damned meeting tonight. He’d come to Laura and warned her of the quorum’s toying with the idea of a no-confidence vote. Then he’d urged her to talk to the members and put them at ease about the mission with the Cylon rebels. He’d done her a service in doing so, but it didn’t make up for what he’d done to her at Gaius Baltar’s trial.

The assault he’d launched on Laura’s character on behalf of the duplicitous nitwit Baltar had hurt her and ultimately forced her to publicly reveal the return of her cancer. And if that hadn’t been enough, he’d continued to put the screws to her after joining the quorum, riding shotgun for Tom Zarek.

Lee’s shifting allegiances troubled Bill. He feared it was going to come back and bite his son in the ass one day. But Lee was a grown man and his choices were his own.

Bill had made his own some time ago. His loyalty lay with Laura. So did his heart.

Once the hatch opened on the raptor, the marine exited the craft and took up a post outside. Laura let out a heavy sigh and looked up at Bill as he stood.

“Any chance we can skip this so I can take a long, hot bath?” she asked as she handed him the blanket.

Bill laid it over the aft station chair then held out a hand to her as he fixed her with a look of understanding. “I wish.”

She sighed again then put her hand in his. “A president’s work is never done,” she mumbled.

“Neither is an admiral’s,” Bill countered, prompting her to flash him a quick smile.

By the time they emerged, the occupants of the other raptors had disembarked and were assembled in the bay. The tall blonde Cylon watched them all warily, but she kept her wits about her.

Bill didn’t know what to make of her, but she seemed different than the Shelly Godfrey model who’d been aboard the Galactica a couple years back. Of course, it could all be an act, but his gut told him it wasn’t. These Cylons were different, and they were offering them a chance of a lifetime against their common enemy. One Bill and Laura couldn’t pass up. That’s what they were here to make the quorum members see.

Laura continued to lean on him as they walked across the large open bay. He paused near Starbuck and ordered her to give them five minutes then follow them up, but to wait outside the meeting for the order to enter. She nodded, flanked by Sharon Agathon, the one Cylon Bill trusted.

The stairs to the upper level wore Laura out further. He felt a trembling in her hand as she gripped his arm, a sure sign of fatigue.

“Do you know what you’re going to say?” he asked her as they made their way through the ship.

“Yes. Do you want to say anything?”

“Not unless you need me to.”

“I might. This isn’t exactly a friendly lot. They all think I’m out of touch.”

“Huh,” Bill scoffed. “They should check the mirror.”

As they neared the makeshift forum, Laura noticeably straightened beside him, gathering her strength to face the politicians who these days behaved more like cranky infants than adults. But she didn’t let go of his arm until she was about to pass through the heavy blue curtains and into the room. He followed her through, as did four of his marines, a pair of them moving to flank Laura, and the other two taking up positions near the door at the opposite end of the room.

In the cramped space, the guards’ armed presence loomed large, not threatening, but a reminder of what all their lives had become. And, Bill silently hoped, a deterrent for any immature behavior from the members. This meeting needed to go smoothly, and it didn’t need to be prolonged. Besides the inherent security issues of the situation, Laura didn’t need the stress, and she needed to rest, soon.

He was never more sure of that than when he saw her lean forward and rest her hands on the table, bracing herself up as she addressed the quorum. She was exhausted, running on adrenaline most likely, but her mind was sharp, her voice impeccably strong as she spoke. She even tried to crack a joke about her health and their opinions of her. No one laughed, but she forged ahead, undeterred in her purpose.

Despite her clearly fragile physical state, she was in charge of the room. Bill admired the hell out of that. He admired the hell out of her. Frak it. He loved her.

Watching her, he felt a myriad of emotions rush through him. That’s how it always was. She stirred in him every feeling it was possible for a human to feel and she brought out in him every ounce of tenderness he possessed. It was an unstoppable tide. And that she welcomed it and him …

As he gazed at her, Bill was conscious that his expression likely conveyed that tenderness at the moment. If anyone looked and had half a brain, they’d see and know how he felt about her. No one did, though, and he managed to shutter it away when she called for the Cylon rebel leader to be brought in.

He kept a close eye on the Six as she stood at Laura’s side. His marines watched the Cylon like hawks as well, prepared to act if she made any threatening move. Thankfully, she didn’t. She said her peace then thanked the quorum for listening, displaying the same sincerity she’d shown earlier aboard Galactica. She either really meant what she was saying or she was a hell of a liar and they were all frakked.

Bill didn’t dwell on the latter. His instincts told him this move, though risky and bold, was the right one. Laura agreed, which is why they were here, hoping for a quick and peaceful dissolution of the quorum’s threat. But whether the quorum agreed or not, they were going to do this, even if he had to throw every one of the politicians in the brig or declare martial law. He would not let their inflated sense of self-importance derail this mission or unseat Laura from the presidency, especially when military decisions rested with him.

By the time the meeting drew to a close, Laura was swaying where she stood and hugging herself with her arms. She didn’t utter complaint one, though, and never displayed anything other than resolute confidence in their decision. And she refused a chair when it was offered to her, challenging the quorum to make their choice one way or another or continue to watch her waver and hope she didn’t collapse.

It was a politically brilliant move. One that clearly irked the vice president. Bill wanted to applaud it on that account alone. Zarek was a prick and obviously had been behind stirring up the quorum over his and Laura’s decision to ally with the Cylon rebels.

When the quorum finally called a vote and backed the decision, Laura thanked them with far more graciousness than Bill would have been able to muster. Of course, in the military, one didn’t vote on orders. You either gave them or obeyed them. It was not a democracy.

On the flight back to Galactica, Laura huddled fully under the blanket and yet the shivers that racked her body didn’t seem to fade in the slightest. Bill was concerned. It wasn’t out of the norm for her to do so for hours after a diloxin treatment, but they usually lessened some as time passed. Of course, he realized, she usually took a bath and then got into the bed with him after a treatment, both of which provided warmth that raptor flights and a quorum meeting did not.

Ignoring the marine beside them, Bill got to his feet and shed his uniform tunic. He then draped it around Laura’s bowed shoulders, tugging it down to insulate her from the coolness of the seat behind her. He could hear her teeth chattering.

“Should I have Cottle meet us?” he asked.

She shook her head. “I just need to get warm.”

Bill knelt and tucked the blanket closer around her legs to keep drafts out. He looked over his shoulder at the marine, found him watching his president with the concern Bill felt.

“I want a clear path to my quarters,” he told the young man, whose eyes flew to Bill’s.

“Yes, sir,” the marine said crisply then moved to the front of the raptor to relay Bill’s orders.

When Bill looked back to Laura, he saw the weariness she’d been trying to keep at bay all evening. It was written in the lines of her face, the look in her eyes.

“You need sleep.”

She smiled wanly, affection flaring in her gaze. “I need a lot of things.”

Bill nodded in agreement. She did need a lot of things, not the least of which was a cure for the damned disease wreaking havoc on her body. He couldn’t provide that, nor a few other of those things. But he could provide most everything else she needed, and he would.

As soon as the raptor was brought to a stop on the flight deck, Bill was on his feet and helping Laura to hers. He took the blanket from her lap and wrapped it around her shoulders. The marine exited first and Bill followed, reaching back for Laura. He guided her down the steps of the raptor to the deck, then put an arm around her waist and walked her to his quarters. She leaned against him the whole way, but she held her head high.

It bowed as soon as they were behind the closed door of his quarters. “Gods,” she sighed in relief as she relaxed almost fully against him. He held her up and steered her toward his bunk. He caught the look of longing on her face when they neared it.

She didn’t even try to shrug off the blanket or his jacket when they reached it. She just stepped out of her shoes, climbed up into the bed and curled into the position he’d seen her in the sickbay bed earlier. He went to his closet and grabbed an extra blanket and threw that over her, too. He then crawled in the bed behind her and worked his arms around her as he tucked his knees behind hers, cradling her in his body.

“Warmer?” he asked when she hummed softly.

“Getting there.”

He kissed her cheek gently as he rested his head against hers.

“Get some sleep,” he told her. “I’ll send for some tea and food later.”

“How about a fireplace?” she asked.

Bill smiled. “If there was one to be had in this fleet, it would be yours, I assure you.”

He felt her smile against his cheek, and the wetness of a tear. He shifted and kissed it away, making her hum again.

With warmth came sleep. She drifted off quickly and Bill stayed close with her until he was sure she was in a truly deep state. He then carefully eased out of bed. He would have liked to have stayed, but he had to finish his logs and a few other routine tasks before he could officially call it a day as Galactica’s commander.

He put on his robe then poured himself a glass of whiskey and settled in at his desk. He turned on the small lamp there, making sure to angle the shade so that it did not cast the illumination into his sleeping berth. He put on his glasses then quietly set about his work, looking over to his bed from time to time, or whenever Laura moved or made a sound.

Once his work was done, he took off his glasses, sat back and watched her sleep, and did so for some time, letting his mind dwell on her. He indulged in memories, and found himself amazed, though not for the first time, at how they’d overcome their tentative and adversarial beginning to emerge where they were now, firmly united, in every respect.

Bill had sorely underestimated her in those early days, and so had a lot of other people, some of whom apparently still did. But not him. The brilliant, stubborn, funny and compassionate redhead had made a believer out of him, and captured his heart in the process. He hadn’t seen that coming, but it worked, and he didn’t question it. It was right and made him feel alive in a way he hadn’t been in ages.

As she stirred in her sleep, an arm working out of the covers and searching for him, Bill felt a swell of male pride. He liked that she missed him when he wasn’t in bed with her. He certainly enjoyed having her there. She made his life an infinitely less lonely place in a multitude of ways, and he was glad to do the same for her.

Placing both hands on the arms of his chair, Bill pushed himself to his feet. He went over, sat on the edge of the bed and covered her hand with his, noting it felt much warmer than earlier as he rubbed his thumb across her open palm in circles. Her eyes opened just the slightest bit, and a smile slowly surfaced on her mouth. He returned the expression.

“Didn’t mean to wake you,” he said.

She hummed softly, her eyes drifting back shut. “That feels good,” she whispered, her voice breathy and inviting in a way he hadn’t heard in weeks thanks to the diloxin.

When she looked at him again, her eyes glittered with unshed tears. “I miss you,” she confessed.

Bill missed her, too. The physical aspect of their relationship had been an unexpected boon. Begun on New Caprica, it had brought them closer. He could be a man with her. She could be a woman with him. No rank or title. It was something they both needed but the progression of her illness and the medical treatments had robbed them of some measure of it. Her body simply no longer cooperated, but the need for intimacy was obviously still there.

Moving his thumb to the pulse point at her wrist, Bill continued his caresses and leaned forward, bracing an arm on the opposite side of her. He gazed down at her, knowing his expression was one of tenderness and understanding because he felt both and he didn’t try to hide away the emotions. He never did when they were in his bed.

She eased her other hand from beneath the covers and touched his face as he hovered over her. He felt the tremble in her fingertips as they moved along his cheek and then his jaw. When she touched his mouth, he kissed them, and then her wrist when she reached for the back of his neck and drew him down to her.

He kissed her as a lover. She hummed low in her throat. It was a delicate sound, almost plaintive. Her hand moved from his neck down to his upper back, clutching to him, while her other hand curled up and gripped his wrist.

His body responded to the need he felt from her. He was, after all, a man, and he loved her.

With a murmur of her name, his mouth left hers and moved across her cheek then down to her neck. He kissed the hollow of her throat when she arched to give him access.

Sitting up slowly, he pushed the blankets aside and moved his hand to the buttons that held her suit jacket closed. He undid them, and then the buttons on her shirt. Her hands continued to grip him, the one still at his wrist, the other now holding to his forearm as he eased each button free. His thumb circled over her pulse without ceasing. She watched him.

Parting the sides of her shirt, he then eased his hand beneath the camisole she wore, skimming his hand over her abdomen up to her chest, taking the garment with him. He watched her face when he cupped her gently. She bit her bottom lip. He leaned down and kissed the flesh he held. She whimpered and slid her hand up over his arm.

When he moved to the breast where the cancer had taken root, her fingers threaded into his hair and held him to her. He took his time there and did not pull away until he heard her whispering apologies and felt her hand fall away from him.

Bill raised over her and found her eyes closed, a pair of tears sliding from each corner. He touched her face gently, whispered, “Give me your eyes.”

She did and he gazed down into the watery pools of blue. He searched the depths and saw the frustration and exhaustion that fueled her apologies. He gave her the most tender and loving smile he could muster and watched her slowly mirror it. Her hand came up then and touched his face again, caressing it as he caressed her.

“No apologies,” he told her and meant it. She had no reason to apologize. Neither the return of her cancer nor the effects of the medical treatments were her fault. And neither changed what he felt for her, except perhaps to make it more real than anything he’d ever known.

As Laura nodded and reached for him, he eased his arm around and beneath her shoulders then lifted, drawing her up. When he did, his jacket came with her. She looked at it as if seeing it for the first time. He grinned when she glanced at it and back to him. Her smile bloomed brighter and her eyes began to twinkle with other emotions.

“Do you still want that bath?” he asked.

She gave him an almost sheepish smile. “I don’t think I have the energy,” she confessed.

“Something to the eat?”

She shook her head, grimacing slightly.

“What can I get you then?” He released her other hand and brushed a few strands of hair back from her cheek.

Her smile returned when she answered, “My nightgown.”

Bill laughed softly. “Anything else?” he asked as he cupped her jaw.

She leaned into his touch and hummed softly. “Will you read to me for a while?”

Bill nodded. “You know we’re getting near the end.”

Laura’s gaze shifted, sorrow mixing with tenderness, making Bill immediately regret his choice of words. His smile faded, but hers didn’t. It simply gentled as she reached up and covered his hand with hers. The action kept his eyes on hers when he would have looked away, and the knowing look on her face told him she was aware of it.

“I know,” she said softly. “But we’ll finish it together.”

Bill had no words to say what was in his heart and mind. Joy and sorrow walked hand in hand in life and he had never been more cognizant of it than he was at this very moment. Laura Roslin and his love for her were the embodiment of both. He could not evict the sorrow without also evicting the joy, so he held onto both. And he held onto Laura, wrapping both his arms around her and hugging her close, and whispered one word at her ear, uttering it with a bittersweet smile.

“Yes.”