Like Air & Water

Laura lay on Bill’s rack, now theirs, willing the nausea to pass.  She was curled up in a ball, wringing her feet, arms wrapped around her stomach.  The wretched wig was half on and half off.  She had not even bothered to remove it when she entered the room, too afraid that any unnecessary movement might cause her stomach to finally revolt.

The worst though was her body was trembling.  She hated it.  Today it was particularly bad.  Most days the shaking ceased before she left sickbay, but not this time.  Laura had no idea how long she had been lying there, but it was long enough for the cool washcloth Bill had placed on her neck to reach room temperature.  If that was an indicator of time, this current state of hell would never pass.

She wanted Bill.

Long gone was Laura’s pride in any attempt to conceal her struggle with this disease, at least where Bill was concerned.  He had very clearly stated, and shown, that it was not necessary for her to be brave around him.  So she wasn’t.  Laura did not try to hide what both the disease and the cure were doing.

She needed Bill.

Because the shaking persisted, he had been reluctant to leave her upon their return from sickbay, but Laura had been adamant.  It had nothing to do with ego.  She just knew Bill had duties in CIC.  It was not practical for both the admiral and president to be unavailable for so long.  Which was why they had come to an agreement early on: he would return to work after she was settled in bed.

But right now Laura desperately needed him.  He would be able to distract her.  He would be able help to take her mind off the nausea and shaking.

“Bill…” Laura half whimpered, half groaned her single word prayer.

The urge to throw-up was too great now, but Laura was afraid to move for the lavatory.  In vain she tried once more to push the sickness to the back of her mind.  It did not work.

Hesitantly, she pushed herself up to sitting, her wig falling off in the process.  The change in position wreaked havoc on her stomach and she clamped one hand over her mouth as she pushed off of the rack with the other.

Laura made it a grand total of two steps before the trembling caused her to collapse to the floor.  Once she hit, the tight rein she held on her stomach vanished and she vomited on the rug.  It stank, thick with bile.  Her eyes clamped shut at the stench.

The trembling intensified and she was powerless to move.  All she could do was lie there and endure the suffering.  Was this an indication of things to come?  Was it going to be like this after each treatment from now on?  Laura did not know if she could bear this every time.

Silent tears began to fall.  It was all too much.  Her current state of misery was overwhelming and there did not appear to be an end in sight.  Now Laura understood why her mother had appeared to give up at the end.  It was because she did give up.

The thought of having to face this newest form of hell after every treatment when all the diloxin did was to buy Laura time seemed useless.  How much time was she gaining?  Was it worth it?  Was a loss to the quality of life worth adding such a miniscule amount?

In the distant part of her mind, Laura heard a noise, but most of her higher brain functions were devoted to the futile attempt to will away the torture.  She felt something on her shoulder but she did not open her eyes.  Then she heard a familiar sound.  It was her name, but that was not the familiar part, it was the voice that had spoken it.  In her dreams that voice reached out to her, calmed her, comforted her.  It was Bill’s voice.

Laura chanced opening her eyes and saw Bill leaning over her.  He was here.  The gods had answered her prayer.

Bill’s mouth moved, but Laura was slow to process the words.  He then stood.  That was when she finally absorbed what he had said, “I’m calling Cottle.”

In her head, Laura heard her words as “No, don’t,” but her ears only registered groans.  They were however, enough to cause Bill to kneel back down beside her.  He stroked her head and she placed a hand on his arm.  “Please, I’m fine,” Laura some how managed to croak coherently enough for Bill to understand.

“You’re shaking and you’ve collapsed on the floor.”  And you’re as pale as I’ve ever seen you, he added in his head.  “You are not fine.”  It was all he could do to not to bring her into his arms and rush her to sickbay.  Bill knew she wanted to avoid the place, but that was not possible with her like this.

“Please…” she begged.

The gaze Laura fixed on him prevented Bill from going against her wishes.  “Alright, but if you’re not better in twenty minutes or you get worse, I’m calling Cottle immediately.”

Laura said nothing, knowing based on Bill’s tone that arguing was pointless.

He bent over and proceeded to lift her into his arms.  The simple fact that he was able to pick her up so easily pained Bill.  He was an old man, becoming an old man, and lifting a full grown woman off the floor should have taken more effort.  She had become so thin, so light.  He had noticed for a while how little she ate.  Now she had stopped eating anything the day of treatments, no doubt in an effort to ease her nausea.  Laura had hidden it well, but he noticed.

With the greatest of care, Bill placed her on the rack, covered her body with warm bedding and picked up the washcloth and wig from the pillow.  He began to move to the lavatory, but was stopped by a hand to his arm.  Laura’s pleading eyes said everything.  “I’m just going to cool this off for you.”  She let go and he swiftly made his way to the head, depositing the wig on his desk as he went.

Bill was grateful for the short reprieve.  He had not anticipated the scene that greeted him upon entering their quarters.  It tore him to see her like this and he needed a moment to gain control of his emotions.  It would only worsen Laura’s current state if she saw him fall apart.

He ran cool water over the cloth, then did the same to a hand towel.  Bill wrung them both and returned to Laura, stopping just long enough to throw the towel over the pool of bile.  It would help keep the smell from spreading until he had a chance to deal with it.

When he returned to the rack, Bill sat on the edge and placed the cloth on the back of her neck.  He held it there, his thumb lightly caressing her.  Bill then took one of Laura’s hands in his, an action that made her relax amid her tremors.

“Sorry about the rug,” she whispered.

“I never liked it anyway.”

Laura tried to offer a half smile at his response, but it came off as more of a wince.  “Will you read to me?”

Bill said nothing, simply bent down and kissed her head before he reluctantly released her hand to retrieve a book from the shelf above the rack.  When he let go, Laura reached around and brought his other hand to rest in hers.  Bill could not help but smile at the effort as he opened the book to do as requested.

With each word read, Laura eased more and more.  When Bill finished the chapter, he placed the hand he had been using to turn pages with on her shoulder.  She was no longer shaking.  It touched him greatly to know that he could have this effect on her.  Relieved at her improved condition, Bill ran a quick caress down her arm before he returned to reading.  Part way into the next chapter he realized Laura was asleep.

Bill closed the book and sat there gazing at her, unwilling to leave her side.  She looked so much better than when he first entered.  Laura was still pale, but some color had returned, and her face no longer carried that pained expression.  He smiled at the scene before him.  She lay on her side, his hand clutched to her chest like a lifeline.

She was his everything: friend, confidant, lover-not lately, though he had no complaint-co-leader…everything.  She completed him, made him see the human side of things.

For so long he had hurt over the break-up of his marriage and family.  As a result, Bill had pushed down everything that was not military-related.  Laura had somehow managed to dig beneath the surface and reawaken those long buried feelings.  And he liked it.

Bill liked how he felt when he was with her.  He liked who he was when he was with her.  So long as she was by his side, he could face anything.

Bill leaned over and kissed that beautiful, bald head of hers.  He had always loved her hair and a part of him missed it, but the fact that it was gone did not matter.  All that mattered was that Laura was still here.

He moved his lips to her ear, a single tear falling in the process.  The emotions his voice carried made his words sound almost harsh.  “I love you…do you hear me Laura Roslin?  I love you.”

“I love you too,” came a soft whisper.

Bill knelt down on the floor beside the rack so he could directly face her.  “Hey,” he began, his words much softer than before, “I didn’t mean to wake you.”  And he hadn’t.  He had just been so overcome with the earnest need to voice how he felt.

Laura half smiled, that being all she could manage in her weary state.  Her eyes still closed, she answered.  “You never have to apologize for waking a girl like that.”

Bill let out a soft chuckle in response.  It was good to hear her attempt a light jest.  “Are you feeling any better?”  Though she looked vastly improved, he needed to hear it from her.

Laura opened her eyes and Bill was pleased to see they still held some of their sparkle.  “Much.”  There was a short pause as she considered something.  “When do you need to return to CIC?”

“I don’t.  My shift ended a while ago.”

At this, Laura closed her eyes and let out a contented hum.  Bill was certain that had to be the most beautiful sound in existence.  “Can I get you anything?” he asked.

“No.”

“Nothing?”

“Just you.”