Galactica's Heart
The morning after Maelstorm…
Laura took a deep breath as she rounded the corner, her entourage in tow. She nodded to Michaels, and he fell back as she neared the Admirals' guards, knowing that the Admiral's quarters were her final destination.
Marks had watched her approach and silently prayed that she was not here to talk to the Admiral…but he knew differently and wished he was any place other than the one he was going to be in, in about two seconds. "Ma'am." He stepped in her way, clearing his throat as he did so. "The Admiral asked not to be disturbed."
"As I have been repeatedly told since trying to contact him for the past 6 hours." Slowly she crossed her arms, her eyes narrowing into a deadly glare as the tenor in her voice became rock hard. "Now, open the door."
Marks felt his breathing pattern change…as an invisible wall seemed to slam into his body, but he ground his teeth together…forcing his back to remain straight – but his peripheral vision told him Johnson had already edged away from the door. "I am under direct orders Ma'am. No one, not even Colonel Tigh, is allowed in."
The only movement was her right eyebrow…arching ever so much at his proclomation. "Sergeant," The warmth had left her eyes…her voice…and Marks found himself facing the full fury of the President. "I am the Commander and Chief giving you a direct order to open the Admiral's quarters." He was shocked…unable to move…and until she added a dispassionate explative afterwards. "Now!"
Roslin watched as Marks joined Johnson, away from the door…granting her access to the Admiral's domain. Dropping her arms, she stepped down…and through the hatch and into darkness, the only light coming from the open hatch spilling into the main part of his cabin.
She glanced about the marginally lit room, mentally pacing off distances before she pushed the hatch close. Fingers steadying her along the metal frame, she peeled off her shoes…so as not to make noise, and sought out the desk she knew held a small lamp. Her hand running along the cool metal and … Owww something ruff punctured her foot. Using the wall as a marker, she carefully knelt down…and felt the ground before her. Small round pieces of wood perhaps…with rope?...she swiped it to the side, making path for her feet and then straightened, took a step and repeated the process two more times before she felt the desk in front of her.
Her hands instinctively went to the light, pulling on the antiquated chain…and bathing the main cabin in soft rays of light. And the sight before causing the words to softly stumble across her lips. "Oh Gods, Bill…what have you done?"
His beautiful ship lay in pieces around his desk…That explains the wood...she thought, her heart breaking at the sight of the crumpled and broken masts, ripped sails and cracked hull of his once pristine boat…knowing the shattered remnants were the physical signs of how Bill felt…or worse…she thought as her eyes absorbed the chaos that now made up the Admiral's normally orderly quarters.
Shards of hexagon glass, the remnants of an Ambrosia bottle lay to the side of his desk. An empty jar container…the kind typically filled with Tyrol's brew next to one of his tumblers that had a bit of clear liquid in the bottom. Books jarred from their home and a mess of reports skittered across the carpet, atop the glass…his once gallant ship…
Tears pooling in her eyes, momentarily blurring her vision as she noticed a shape in the bedroom…lying in a heap on the floor. "Bill…" She uttered as her heart skipped a beat and then she was darting across the room…almost heedless…but the glass shards caused a bit of caution as she made her way to him.
He was lying on his back, glass clutched in his hand, face to the side…mouth half open as he ragged breathing reached her ears. He drank himself into a slumber… She peeled the glass from his thick fingers, a numbless one… Eyes darting up to his face to make sure she hadn't woken him yet…and then pausing a moment to slide down his bare, and quite broad chest.
She had seen his shoulders before…close to two years ago after Sharon shot him…and the incision that dissected his chest. Now…the stitches were gone, a pale pink bordering on white line replacing them. It started less than a two finger width from the hollow of his neck, running between his sternum and down to his navel where a second one began traveling up his side.
She had come close to losing him…physically. And as her eyes swept back up his form, she had to wonder if she was just as close tonight to losing him…emotionally. Kara, for better or worse, was his daughter. Not by blood…but…daughter none the less.
Tory had waited until after her meeting with the cabinet…
"Madame President." Tory came in…stepping from one foot to the next.
Roslin finished signing the forth document for Zarek, "Yes, Tory." She stated, not bothering to look up as she scanned the subsequent page.
"Ma'am…" Tory repeated, pausing for a moment, knowing that the President would look up at the second prompt.
Roslin marked her place with her forefinger, raising her eyes. "Yes." And then she saw the utter trepidation on Tory's face, "What is it?"
Tory glanced at Zarek and then Roslin. "It's ughh…" She swallowed and dove in. "Captain Thrace, Ma'am."
Roslin's eyes dropped back to the document, "Were they able to confirm her sightings?"
"No Ma'am. She was killed."
Roslin's eyes and head flew up. "Kara Thrace?" She asked, disbelieving.
Tory nodded. "Yes, Ma'am."
Roslin grouped the stack of papers, handing the bundle to Tom. "I'll have to handle this tomorrow, Tom." She stated as the meaning of Tory's words sunk deeper into Laura's heart with every passing second. "Get me the Galactica."
"Ma'am…" Tory reached out, catching her arm. "It was a little over three hours ago on a routine flight. Major Adama was on patrol with her."
"Why didn't…" She began, but Tory interrupted her.
"You asked not to be disturbed…barring a Cylon incursion." Her large brown eyes seeking silent approval for her actions.
Sighing, Roslin nodded. "Get me Galactica."
"Right away, Ma'am."
"And Tory…" Tory glanced up, the phone already in her hand. "Clear my schedule for tomorrow morning."
Tory nodded, "Yes, Ma'am."
She had tried for the better part of 6 hours to reach him – to no avail. The crew knew how close Kara and the Admiral were. And they were respecting his wishes…to leave him alone and giving him space. And as much as Laura respected the sentiment, it had proven incredibly frustrating the past several hours as no one, not even a drunken Colonel Tigh would patch her through to Bill's quarters. She had told the captain to prepare a raptor two hours ago for Galactica, and before a flight plan could be logged, Galactica had called…they were having problems with their landing bays. All travel had been temporarily delayed…at that point, Laura had returned to her office, furious.
Tory tried to ease the situation and contact Chief Tyrol to find out how long the repairs were going to last, but he seemed unable or unwilling to answer. When Tory informed her of the response, she had grabbed the phone and informed Tyrol that she would be on a shuttle and arriving in two hours, and to have the problem corrected by then – no excuses.
When she did finally arrive, the atmosphere of the Galactica was one of mourning. It permeated the air…blanketing the very soul…and why not? She thought as she stared at the normally formidable man lying passed out in front of her. The heart of Galactica may have been mortally wounded…
Picking herself and the glass up, she carefully made her way back to the door, and yanking it open. Marks and Johnson spinning around in surprise. "Ma'am." They both stated, snapping to attention.
"Would one of you nice gentlemen get me some coffee?" She asked.
They looked from one to the other and back, Marks slightly apprehensive. "Ma'am, we are under order not to leave while the Admiral is in his quarters…but…" He glanced down to Michaels, "Being as your security is present too, I think we can manage."
She smiled at the sandy haired man, "Thank you." And then pushed the hatch close. Sighing, she ran an exasperated hand through her unruly hair and began picking up the wreckage that once made up his wooden vessel…that was worthy of a museum piece. Now…she laid the splintered wood on the edge of his desk. Would he ever work on it again? Piece by piece she cleaned up…and then she heard a faint rap on the hatch.
She returned to the hatch, brushing her hands off momentarily before pulling it open again. There stood Marks, metallic thermos in hand…with a hesitant expression. "Thank you." She stated.
"Any time, Ma'am." He replied before pulling the hatch to.
Now comes the hard part. She thought as she headed into the heart of the cabin where she quickly unearthed two cups. Eyes glancing to the clock…8am…no wonder why I'm tired...she thought, remembering the few snippets of sleep she horded between calling the Galctica. Snatching those in her fingers, along with the thermos, she made her way into his room.
Gently she set the items to the side, before sitting down next to his arm…and side. "Bill." She stated, her melodious voice hanging in the air. She tried again, slightly louder, as he hadn't moved a muscle… "Bill." Her hand tenderly touching his shoulder.
No response.
Sighing, she tried again. "Bill." She let her hand drift from his shoulder…to the side of his face, drawing it up his cheek.
He turned his face…into the palm of her hand…and she couldn't stop her own breath from momentarily hitching as his soft lips ever so softly touched her fingers. "Bill." She slid her hand along his cheek, loving the texture… "You need to get up." She stated, forcing herself to remove her hand.
His head lulled to the side…but it caused him to stir. "Hmm…" He grumbled.
"Bill." She touched his shoulder again…and his blood shot eyes shot open, practically jumping to a sitting position as his eyes tried to focus…the pupils slowly narrowing down…his eyes squinting…and then recognition passing over his cobalt eyes.
"Lau..ra?" His dry voice cracked. "What…" He licked his dry lips, trying to find an ounce of moisture, "Are you doing…" He glanced around his surroundings…making sure he was in his own quarters. "Here?"
She allowed a small smile to grace her face as she squeezed his shoulder, before dropping her hand and reaching over and pouring two cups of coffee. "Bringing you coffee." She handed him a glass as he squinted again…eyes moderately closed from soft light. "Thought you could use it."
He nodded and then allowed his eyes to close after he took a sip. "Thank you." He rumbled.
She reached over, picking up her cup and took a long sip and enjoyed the warmth as it made its way down her throat. She then sat quietly…waiting…eyes absorbing the man before her.
Finally he moved…sitting up straighter…wincing a moment as he did from the hangover that had settled nicely into a throbbing headache. Blue eyes opening, "How long have…" He cleared his throat, "Been here."
Her emerald eyes were soothing, "Long enough." She quietly replied, and then reached out…fingers gently touching his leg through his sweat pants. "How are you?"
Bill Adama let her question wash over him…unable to answer as he stared into her gentle eyes. He didn't want to burden her with how he felt…nor could he lie to this remarkable woman…so…he opted for the nondescript…and safe route. "Stiff and…" He krinked his head from side to side, "A hell of a headache."
She nodded, "The floor, especially on a Battlestar is rather unforgiving."
He allowed a tremor of smile, "Quite."
And then she set the cup down… "Why didn't you call?" She asked, eyes suddenly mirroring his own anguish.
He took a shuddering breath, his eyes falling to the floor…no longer able to meet her gaze…his chest constricting…
"Bill?" She gently raised her arm until her fingers caught the tip of his chin, and with pain staking slowness, she raised his face…until their gazes were again locked. "Why?"
He held her gaze…blue swirling…absorbing green…tears threatening to spill from his…and then she felt his hand upon hers…raising it the inch and a half…until he pressed his lips to her fingers before squeezing them…and gently placed her hand with his until it was back upon her legs, where he released it and returned his own hand to his lap. Their gazes locked, and he quietly uttered two words that broke her heart. "I did."
She felt her breath hitch, "Gods…Bill…I'm so sorry…I.." She bit the edge of her lip as she forced herself to continue. "I didn't find out until 3 hours later."
He broke their gaze…head turning toward the main cabin as a solitary tear slid down his cheek. "I had Tyrol call over…" He cleared his throat….jaw tightening. "From the deck."
The pieces falling into place as she reached over…He had gone down to the hanger deck after Lee came back…to be there for his son…and he had the Chief call over… "I am…" Her arms were wrapping around his chest as his head fell onto her shoulder, "So sorry." His arms wrapping around her torso…
"I came back here…and…" He closed his eyes, hoping to stave off any more tears. "Was going to call you later…but…"
She trailed her fingers through his hair…repeating the tender gesture for several minutes…
"Gods…Laura…I'm going to miss her…" He breathed out before she could feel warm moisture through the shoulder of her shirt as he succumbed to tears.
They sat that way for an eternity until slowly his arms dropped from her waist…and hers his…both creaking as they straightened. Sighing, he turned his head away…almost as if in shame…and then quietly stated. "I'm going to use the head…clean up…" He gripped the edge of the bed, pulling his body up and then extending a hand to her, assisted her. She gratefully accepted as he finished, "Thank you."
She stepped closer…fingers again pulling his face towards hers… "I'm not going anywhere this morning."
A small weight seemed to fall from his shoulders, bringing a measure of light back to his eyes. It wasn't a smile…or even a passing of one…but his mouth quirked before he turned away and disappeared into the head.
Laura occupied herself with cleaning, assisting to remove the last remnants of last nights events when she heard the door open…three-fourths of the area cleaned. She glanced up as he strode into the main cabin with his military issue slacks and a t-shirt with a tank pulled over it.
"Laura…" He cleared his throat, as he entered, "I'll get it."
She finished picking up the clump of papers, shaking them to get the glass out. "And I'll help." She said standing.
He grumbled, but didn't say anything as he turned around and grabbed his broom and dust pan. Quietly he assisted in sweeping up the last bit of glass and wood off the floor…carefully keeping his eyes averted from the corner of his desk where the remains of his boat now laid. Standing he took the dust pan…and emptied the contents before depositing them back into their home.
"Laura…" He stepped back into the main cabin. "You don't…" She turned to face him. "Have to. I'll finish."
"It'll go twice as fast if we both…" Her voice died away as he took a step closer to her.
"Please…" He rumbled, placing a hand atop hers and the stack of papers she held. Blue eyes penetrating her green ones. "Don't."
"Let me help you." She whispered, feeling the warmth of his hand spread throughout hers.
A burst of light splashed through his eyes…She felt the moments tick by…the heat of his hand…the closeness of his body…the beauty of his eyes…and then she felt his hand leave hers and her breath hitched as his fingers trailed down her cheek.
"You have…" He rasped.
Her eyes faltered for a moment…giving into the feeling that his touch suddenly evoked from her body, and then she brought her attention back to his eyes…hoping to reign in her feelings. However…the look she met did nothing to offset her feelings…quite the opposite, igniting her own desires.
And she found herself leaning forward…
Meeting…
His tender lips brushing softly against hers…
Melting into him…
Tasting…touching…
His hand sliding into her hair…pulling her deeper into the kiss…
The papers falling out of her fingers as her hand glided up his shirt...scraping up his jaw…along the edge of his hairline…pulling him deeper…
Tongues finally touching…
Exploring…
And then with pain staking slowness they pulled back…crystalline eyes boring into hers.
Their breathing labored...as they both tried to control their raging emotions…wanting nothing more than to let go…
But then his hand fell away…along with hers…
And then he took a step back…as did she…the distance doing nothing to quell their wants…their needs…nor the desire to momentarily shirk responsibilities…
"Are you going…" She forced herself to meet his gaze, "to be okay?"
He didn't respond immediately...but a tender smile spread across his face. His husky voice sending shivers up her spine. "Eventually."
Laura nodded…forcing her body to take another step back. "I'm glad." She whispered.
"Thank you, Laura." He rumbled.
"Any time, Bill." She evenly replied.
The moment hung between them…both momentarily unsure…and then she allowed the situation to wash over her. A smile erupting onto her lips. "I'll call you later."
He nodded, not entrusting himself to speak. Instead he contented himself to fold his hands in front of his chest as he watched her step over and slip on her shoes. Her steps were measured, steadfast as she headed toward the door. Hair swaying along her shoulders, the curves of her body being accentuated with each step. Her hand reaching toward the door…
"Laura…"
His voice staying her hand on the hatch, as she turned to face him.
He watched her fiery hair cascade down her shoulder as she turned to him, "I would have loved to see your cabin."
She met his gaze…basking in its warmth…allowing it to seep through her bones…her melodious voice bridging the distance between them, "And I would have loved to share it with you."
Another heartbeat sounded, and the merriment and hope dancing between them faded as he watched the door open and Laura transformed into the President before his eyes.
Their duty and their curse…sighing…he turned away as the hatch closed. Fingers absently picking through the wreckage of his boat…his heart still mourning for the loss of Kara…while his soul yearned to be united with Laura…though neither need will be met…Adama twirled the piece of wood between his fingers…knowing that at least for now…he had the strength to continue on…it was his duty…it filled him with purpose…and as he slipped his jacket off his chair and over his shirts…he permitted himself a moment to harbor hope…that one day…
Laura felt the weight of Presidency descend upon her as she stepped into the halls of Galactica. Marks and Johnson looking at her expectantly…as were her guards, both wanting to know how the Admiral was.
Michaels stepped up toward her as she finished climbing the handful of steps, "Ma'am."
"I'll be returning to Colonial One."
He nodded, eyes briefly searching her face…and finding nothing. "Yes, Ma'am." Before turning away and radioing the information to the rest of her detail.
She started down the corridor and paused casting a final glance towards Bill's quarters… That despite Galactica's heart being severely wounded…it would heal…and maybe…she turned on her heel…with the stone mask of the President firmly in place…
Her thoughts however dwelled on matters better left unsaid …One day their duty would reach on impasse and they could just enjoy the moment…with or without a cabin…