I Love You Still

Rating- PG to be safe, nothing too graphic

Spoilers: Up to season 2 ep.1

Words: 543

A/N: Written in 20 minutes for a challenge over at Galactica Actual. Feedback is fun.

Col. Saul Tigh rested his head against the cold surface of his mirror. It was too much, Bill down, mutiny, he should've stayed on Caprica, publishing that book on the Vipers he worked so long on. He shouldn't have even signed up for the military, it was all a mistake.

He could hear Ellen stifling sobs in the bedroom, everything was wrong. If only that Gods Damned Captain had loosed his bullet, he wouldn't be in the situation. He could be resting, with the so many men that had been lost.

Now he stands there, head against the mirror, wishing he were dead. He was built for leader ship. He was better off dead somewhere. Not at the head of the only remaining humans in the universe.

He took the last swig of his ambrosia, sighing as he wiped his mouth on the back of his hand.

"Frak This," he muttered violently, "Only frakking drink left in this fleet is in some still in the frakking store rooms."

With a smash of his bottle, Saul stormed out of his bathroom, through the bedroom supporting a still sobbing Ellen, and slammed his hatch shut behind him.

"So what's your game plan?"

"Frakking flash backs, frakking alcohol, frakking Cylons. Frakking tight security!" Saul yelled, ignoring the stares of the young deckhands as he tried to break the code for the storeroom.

"Sir, do you need help?" a tender and frightened voice startled Saul from his banging on the hatch.

"What?" He turned around quickly, "Oh yes I do, can't get the code in right." He said, seeing a deckhand offering his help, his semi-drunken stupor blinding him of the name.

"Yes sir." A few beeps, the hatch opened.

"Thank you specialist, you can go." Saul was too focused on obtaining his drink to notice the mutters of "what if it's a Cylon? You frakhead!"

He stumbled into the closet and touched his hand to the still that held chief secret brew, he had secretly been breaking into the room for the past 4 weeks, taking what he could get.

It took him back to his deckhand days, singing songs with his fellow hands, even the faint memory of getting his chief drunk, drinking the home made liquid.

Saul took 3 jars of the brew and slammed the hatch behind him, struggling to conceal the booze in his jacket. He ducked himself back into his quarters, finding them eerily empty. He settled himself at his desk and continued his work.

---

Twenty minutes later, he was completely wasted, singing old drinking songs and toasting his photographs.

Ten minutes after that, he curled himself back into a ball under his desk, depression setting back in.

"Pass the word along for Colonel Tigh to CIC, pass the word for Colonel Tigh." His head came off his knees. "Frakking son of a…"

---

Ellen's arms were around him, her head on his bare chest, pants discarded to the side.

"I love you Ellen," He whispered in her ear, nuzzling her neck.

She kissed him back, "Even though you are a scheming angry drunk, I love you still."

Fin