Disclaimer: I do not own BSG, Bill or Laura. Others created them. Although I do believe they have a life of their own somewhere.
After a few angsty fics, I thought they deserved some downtime. Let's make them happy!
The tent is different from the rest. When he finally sees it he recognizes its square structure, the wider space it shelters. The green of the canvas stands out over an ocean of grey tarps. Just as he has been told, it is very easy to spot it among the other tents, all of them so alike. This is a sad, uniform settlement rising from an equally rough, unpromising ground.
People did not know. They could not know: they just wanted to live. And judging from what he sees looking around as he walks this is exactly what they are trying to do. Maybe a few of them have already started realizing the fraud, the betrayal committed against their dreams, against their wishes. Maybe not: maybe all of them will embrace this land without thinking any further, without wondering anything else: they will be content to embrace this destiny as long as the enemy does not hit them again. The thought that your life will only consist of a never ending escape across the outer space towards the unknown is too hard a penance to consider. Earth might not even exist and if it does, they might never find it anyway.
He is a military man. He thinks and feels as such: he would rather die in battle than accept the war is lost in advance and settle for the remains of what he could have achieved. However, not everybody is like him. And now, those who think and feel as he does are forced to share the fate of those who are too exhausted to keep searching.
They have suffered the apocalypse and the exodus. Asking them not to cling to their first chance at a more normal life had probably been too much.
He walks around the corner and sees the entrance of the tent. The zipper is open but a second veil behind it keeps him from seeing the inside. Suddenly, Bill finds himself walking faster: his rhythmic, regular strides get wider and he cannot manage to restrain the impulse of his legs. Anticipation sends a shiver down his spine. In contrast, he covers the last meters more slowly again, tasting the last seconds of uncertainty. He is about to find her. He is about to not find her. Both possibilities trigger complex emotions within him.
He takes a deep breath and sweeps the thick curtain of the entrance aside. It takes a few seconds to his pupils to dilate and adjust to the dim light inside. The day is not exactly sunny and splendid but the contrast is still sharp. He waits for a few moments until he starts making out shapes and forms.
And he sees her.
She gives him her back. She is leaning over one of the desks and her hand rests on the shoulder of the kid whose work she is reviewing in a reassuring, protective gesture. Her other hand is set on the corner of the small table. She is talking to the kid but the distance and the low murmur spreading across the classroom make it impossible for him to hear her words. Completely focused on whatever she is explaining, her posture changes a little and he catches a glimpse of her traits. He makes out the shape of her nose, the profile of her cheek.
Right there, silently standing, he enjoys the peace of having found her and the privacy of knowing he has not been seen yet. He allows himself a few moments to simply watch her. The green shirt and casual trousers she wears hug her curves in a very convenient way. Bill notices her slender fingers, slightly flexed around the kid's shoulder as she gives him indications moving her index across the paper the boy is working in. A strand of hair slides over her shoulder and she absentmindedly lifts her hand to her temple and tucks it behind her ear, where it no longer disturbs her.
Where it does not hide her face.
Her finger pushes her glasses up her nose. She keeps talking. Her demeanor, her gestures reveal that blend of warmth and determination so very hers, her absolute concentration in that specific moment and that specific person. It is her, and it feels like a homecoming.
He smiles.
The sound of fast steps approaching from behind startles him. He turns around, annoyed and a little ashamed, caught by surprise. He is the Admiral, the authority, the leader of his people due to his title as much as to the credit he has earned. Of course, it does not mean he cannot be caught spying through a slit just the same.
"Good afternoon, Admiral."
He turns around fast enough to catch a glimpse of the significant smile fading away from Maya's expression a second after her greeting. Her grin confirms the young woman has a pretty accurate idea about what he is doing right there. However, she walks past him lightly without stopping, pretending casualness. Suddenly aware that he is blocking the entrance, he steps back and she gets in.
His heart pounds fast within his chest. He takes a deep breath. After a second of hesitation, he takes a step forward and looks inside again to see what is going on.
Maya has approached Laura and is whispering something in her ear. A second after the young woman disappears like a ghost among the shadows at the bottom of the tent. Laura stays frozen, half-leaning over the desk, in the same posture she was while Maya talked to her. She straightens up after a few long seconds. She takes her sweet time before turning towards the entrance. This is unexpected for her: she needs to allow herself a moment just to get ready. Like she really wants to keep believing, if only for one more second, that Maya has said the truth.
That he is there.
He is there. The moment she finally dares to look, she makes out his dark figure against the light coming from the outside. She cannot see his features or his expression but she would recognize this silhouette anywhere. Even blindfolded.
She has dreamed of tracing it with her fingertips.
Bill is holding the curtain on the entrance aside with his hand half- lifted. Despite the sunlight blinding her, she can tell he is smiling, maybe thanks to the soft sound falling from his throat the moment she has finally looked at him. Barely a chuckle. A failed attempt to say something. Anything.
Now it is her heart that threatens to burst inside her chest.
All of a sudden, the burden of the last months becomes much more apparent. She is not one to waste time and energy considering her loneliness, her own struggle, as quiet as arduous, as uncertain as dignified. As contradictory: so much work, so many concerns to find a way to settle and make herself useful to the others in a place she does not believe in, an existence without a future, a situation which keeps Bill away from her most of the time. It is only when she sees him before her eyes that her feelings, effortlessly repressed for weeks, break the wall of her inner defenses.
It is OK. She can deal with this. She is second to no one when it comes to staying in control, to pretending self-confidence. And yet she is certain he has read the emotion in each and every gesture she has made up to that very instant. It is too late. But, really, it does not matter.
Her eyes lock with his. She smiles and clears her throat.
"Admiral." she greets.
He nods in response.
They stay silently looking at each other one second longer than they should: one meaningful second. Then she starts walking towards him. Quiet, controlled. Beaming. As she comes closer, he sees the sparkle in her green eyes.
She stops. Aware that Maya must be discreetly watching them from the bottom of the tent, she stays standing before him at an appropriate distance. Appropriate for anyone watching them from outside, but close enough for him to still hear her when she speaks in a low tone.
"How long have you been spying on me, Admiral?"
It is a knowing, playful, warm whisper. Now, yes, this is her true greeting. Her welcome.
"Just a few seconds."
He shakes his head emphasizing his words, meaning he has just arrived.
She knows exactly what it means that Bill has been watching her just a few seconds. The smile grows wider on her lips and brings light to her eyes.
This very instant when they see each other again is the most magical one. More than any other. Both acknowledge and savor it without haste, locking eyes in silence, letting the noise of the world die down outside the glass vase which has descended over them. Lost in his blue oceans again, the realization that she lives every day waiting for this moment hits her full force. She does not think of it on purpose, there is no sharp pain piercing her soul. She copes with her inner needs like she faces her days: with serene determination. With stoic dignity. However, she recognizes the homesickness which descends over her soul when the night comes. She remembers all the times she has looked up to the sky hoping to find Galactica there, sending him a silent message across the air. She knows all too well which material this longing is made of. It feels intimate, like a fondness. She knows that, wherever she goes, it comes with her.
He comes with her.
"How much time do you have?"
A faint anxiety tinges her voice despite herself. He notices it and it melts him inside as much as it pulls his pieces together again. He has spent weeks walking the corridors of an empty ship like a dismembered robot, suffering the progressive desertion of his troops which only ties him more tightly to a place where his heart no longer lives. No, since she is down here on the planet, since the moment he realized the terrible mistake he had made when he assumed he would still manage to see her regularly.
It had been his old heart speaking and he had wanted to believe.
"Not much, really." Remorse makes his voice shudder before he goes on. "Just until the raptor is stocked again. One hour, maybe less. But it is OK if I make them wait a little."
Laura bites her lower lip. One hour. Maybe two. And it has to be now. Otherwise… who knows how many more weeks. How many months. Slowly, she turns around. Her eyes scan the tent. Maya would not have emerged from the shadows any faster if Laura had actually called her name. The former president does not even need to formulate her request.
"Go. I can take over."
"It will be just a couple of hours."
Laura cannot ignore the knowing shine in her assistant's dark orbs.
"It's fine. Don't worry."
Laura nods. And just like that, the fog lifts from her soul.
If Maya had not offered to take over the lesson she would never have been able to leave. She would not have been able to enjoy even this couple of hours. She knows she would have stuck to her duties, which is exactly why she prefers to push the thought away from her mind.
"Thank you." she simply says.
The two women smile at each other. Then, she turns to Bill.
"Let's go."
"Where?" he asks as he nods.
"I don't care." she whispers back.
Bill holds back a happy laughter. He looks at her one more instant: he watches that face which gifts him with a relaxed, glowing expression now that their only obstacle has been so easily overcome. He offers her his arm as a blink dances in his pupils. She stays still for a beat. She feels so moved by that simple gesture, the delicacy in his manners towards her which remains, which is even more apparent, now that she is nobody.
But the truth is that she is more than she ever was. More than anything else.
She guesses that much.
He knows it for certain.
As she slides her fingers on the crook of his elbow to let him guide her outside she feels more important than she has ever felt with any of the jobs and duties she has carried out. She feels restored, whole, and she is inclined to say the day has turned from grey into luminous, her reality suddenly brimming with possibilities.
They start walking down the street. Laura releases his arm immediately. He casts a sidelong glance at her, insecure, searching for an explanation in her face. He finds it in her eyes which look back at him full of affection, in open contradiction with the security distance she has just established. Her intentions are thus clarified.
There are too many people around, indeed. Everybody recognizes him, greets him as they walk by: a few words, a nod, a smile, a salute. Every few steps someone approaches them, stops them. The Admiral is planetside and many do not want to miss their chance at a brief exchange with him. They are those who worked for him for years. They are his family. He greets back, shakes hands, and speaks gentle words.
Standing by his side, Laura smiles and stays on a discreet second place. Her mind is making a silent countdown of the seconds they will be able to share in the two scarce hours she will spend with him but nothing in her gives her impatience away. She is not distressed. She understands. She understands that, even now, in these circumstances, she has to share him. At least for now, she has left behind that period of her life when her role always had to come before her wishes. She does not mind it: she is freer, lighter now. And yet she knows there are many who still look at her with respect, sometimes almost reverence. She is the one they know they can turn to. She is their referent. She can tell that much from their looks, from their way to approach her. She is just a schoolteacher now but all of them have seen her in action, facing the open fire. They know what she is made of, to what extents she is willing to go to fulfil her duties, to serve mankind. Just for the love of them.
She takes an intimate pride in the fact that everybody wants to talk to Bill. She admires him, too. Suddenly, she is not sure he knows how much she does. Regret bites at her heart.
She rejoices just thinking how envious Baltar would feel if he would be seeing this scene. That pathological jealousy of his is the reason why he keeps her under a subtle surveillance. The doctor does not make the smallest effort to imitate her qualities but he would still want to enjoy the same kind of appreciation and gratitude from the people she achieved. What he expects is worship, really. Well, he is not likely to be even close to them right now. He is possibly enjoying his harem: he barely does anything else during the entire day.
Laura sighs.
They are left alone at last. He grins his apology. She reassures him with a smile. All is good.
They resume their walk and reach the limits of the tent camp a few minutes later. That was Laura's goal. The fact that she perfectly understands why everyone wants to greet him does not mean she is willingly going to let her two hours slip out of her hands just like that. The density of the crowd gets drastically reduced as soon as they get past the last row of tents. Only a few brave ones try their luck beyond the limits and yet they keep moving erratically around the camp like ants never too far from their nest. Bill immediately understands they are safe.
"About time." he sighs, relieved.
The corners of her lips lift slightly in response as she walks. She keeps the steady rhythm of her strides. She does not turn to him. This gives him room, grants him a perfect chance to watch her closely. The lines of her forehead, which he knows shields a smart, brilliant mind. Her well- lined jaw, the profile of her nose, the curve of her lips. The wind gently sweeping her auburn locks around her temples, over her shoulders. The shirt hugging her breasts, its opening unbuttoned so casually, so suggestively. Her skin tone, tanner than usual due to the life on the open air. The dull light of the neon lights in the ships' meeting rooms and corridors is anything but fetching. The first time he came down to the planet for the groundbreaking ceremony he spent one day and one night with her and he noticed the difference already.
Just a few months earlier, he had cried in front of her, holding her hand, certain he was about to lose her. The woman walking by his side right now is glowing, full of life.
"I could get used to seeing you in casual clothes."
She turns her face to him as she keeps walking. A faint blush has spread across her cheeks and her eyes dive into his with such intensity he makes a mental note not to forget this when she is away.
"This is not the best terrain for power suits and high heels." she jokes.
"Well, it looks good on you. Given your initial reticence, I wouldn't have expected it."
She looks ahead again, tilts her head back, closes her eyes under the sunlight and smiles, pleased. Bill feels her hand taking his. That is her only response. He feels her fingers interlace with his in a simple, easy gesture. He opens his hand to welcome hers, and then closes his fingers around it. He presses her hand a little, she replies pressing back. A warm current flows through him head to toes. During the last few weeks he has never stopped wondering how much of the physical intimacy and the confidences they had shared that night could be blamed on the alcohol and the weed they had consumed, and how much of it all was the reflection of their true feelings. He is sure about himself: he knows he has often dreamed of that night, before and after it actually happened. And maybe he has just been overthinking but at a certain point he came to a conclusion: he cannot take for granted that she feels the same way.
However, Laura has just taken his hand. And they are both sober now.
They keep walking. Just a few meters ahead, the path gets into a thick forest. As soon as they see themselves surrounded by trees it feels like there is no one else in miles around them.
"How are you?" he asks in the most casual tone he is capable of.
She allows herself a moment before answering.
"Well. I can't say it is easy, but I am finding my way, I am building my place here little by little. I manage."
"The school?" he prompts.
"Mostly the school, yes. It's hard. There are many kids of very different ages. Lots of them lost one or both their parents in the attacks. Nobody has looked after them properly in the last year. We usually have to deal with their emotional wounds before we can even consider teaching them anything". She pauses. "It is exhausting, but it pays off when you see them recover and grow up."
He reflects in silence.
"It's good to be exhausted at the end of the day. It stops me from thinking too much."
He turns to look at her. He can imagine her so easily, fighting for those kids every day, trying to make up for their wide range of needs and lacks as well as she can. He knows her well enough to understand she does not waste time giving things more thought than necessary. Make a decision, act on it; make a decision, act on it. He can guess the soft firmness she puts into play when she deals with people is largely beneficial for those damaged kids. He feels a faint jealousy: they enjoy her attention and her company for hours every day.
As easily as he can imagine her at school, he can also see her arriving at her tent at the end of the day, changing clothes in four precise moves and slumping down on her bed without even bothering to eat something for dinner, exhaustion prevailing over her need to feed herself. His heart clenches at the thought. Her sense of duty, her tenacity, and her commitment make no difference between being the president or a plain schoolteacher. Well, of course she could never be just a plain schoolteacher: Laura exceeds the requirements of her job whatever said job consists of.
A slight pressure on his hand shakes him out of his reverie. He meets her eyes, which he finds full of interest and affection.
"How about you?"
Bill shrugs.
"You know how things are up there. In times of peace everything is much quieter, there is less work to do, but there is also much less people on board: half the crew has settled down here already, along with the civilians. There are just a few of us to do what has to be done."
She notices a quiver in his voice. She knows what he is thinking. She knows he is wondering what will happen if the enemy finds them someday. Everyone, including himself, has let their guard down. Determined as he is not to quit his job, in the current situation he is sure their defensive chances will be meager to say the least if they find themselves confronted with a massive attack. Saying they are unprepared would be a huge understatement. And if it finally happens, the consequences will be his fault and no one else's.
"You should see it." he resumes his explanation, trying to keep his dark reflections at bay. "The silence in the corridors is deafening. You can walk along them for several minutes before you actually run into someone else. You can spend hours without talking to anyone at all. In the CIC, the only sound comes from the buzzing of the screens and the machines."
She nods. She has a hard time imagining the ship empty. It feels strange. It has been almost five months since they arrived and she is aware most of the crew has settled on the planet. She has seen them: one by one she has welcomed all her fellow sufferers whose faces she saw daily during the months they passed travelling across the universe. Now, confronted with Bill's description, she has no trouble picturing how that same situation feels from the other side. Even if she knows Bill is not very talkative and he enjoys being alone, it is painful to imagine him more and more isolated, left behind by his own people, helplessly watching that exodus. A man on a mission almost none of his children believe necessary anymore. But he knows it still is. He trusts himself, his own intuition.
He knows she shares his concern.
"What brought you here today?"
Bill grunts softly.
"I had to meet him."
"Baltar?"
He nods.
"You know he keeps the trips between the ships and the surface under strict control and he seldom grants us permission to get here. Especially if it's me asking. But this time he called me."
"Really? How so? What did he want?"
Bill wonders to what extent he wants to involve Laura in those matters now she no longer participates in them. Just the thought of hiding information from her makes him upset and uneasy. The idea of renewing the trust they had as Admiral and President and receive her advice and support once more is too tempting. He decides there is absolutely nothing he cannot or should not share with her.
"Provisions, tylium, and a couple of details regarding the unions. Nothing we could not deal with over the phone. But you know how this works. If he suddenly decides he needs to see me, there is just no reason good enough to make him change his mind. From time to time he remembers I exist and he likes to make sure I know I must follow his orders."
Laura feels infuriated at the capricious behavior Bill describes. It makes her mad to imagine the stoic, honest, committed man who walks beside her forced to obey the whim of that jerk.
"On the other side" he adds. "I felt like coming, too. It has been a long time."
All the anger gathered in her chest dissipates. It is not quite his words: it is his tone which charges them with meaning and earns him a warm, significant smile.
Then, he stops. She takes a couple of strides out of inertia before their hands, still linked, pull at her from behind. Her face is a huge question mark when she turns around to face him. Why has he stopped so abruptly? Does he want to go back already? She had planned to at least get to the lakeshore.
"Laura."
Bill's features, so relaxed just a second before, have turned grave. He meets her glance for a second and then casts his eyes. He does not hide. He is not ashamed. He is just searching for words.
She walks back and stands before him. She keeps holding his hand and presses it softly.
"Bill, what's wrong?"
He allows himself a moment before lifting his gaze to hers again. She is right there, her face two inches from his, her jade eyes filled with concern and trying to read his, as she used to do in the past. He is almost sure she will be able to do it again: she will just guess what he is about to say before he finds the appropriate words for what he wants to convey.
"You know I am seldom allowed to come to the planet."
She nods.
"This means you and I have very few occasions to see each other. And it's impossible to know how long things will be like this or which kind of surprises the future will bring."
She starts to have a vague impression that she knows what all this is about. She arches her eyebrows encouraging him to go on.
"What I mean is… what I mean is I'd love to spend more time with you on those few occasions when I can come down."
She rewards him with a smile. Not just a smile: that smile. She sinks into his blue gaze.
"And what do you suggest that we do exactly?"
Her voice is a caress. Her tone is magnetic. It is almost a whisper but Bill knows better than to trust her softness. Quite often, the softer she gets, the more dangerous she becomes.
She will not let him get away with this. She will make him say it.
He smiles shyly.
"I'd love to stay with you for the night when I can. Of course, only if you agree."
He has been messed with doubts for weeks before finally mustering enough strength to mention it. Laura knows him well and yet he would rather die than risk her misunderstanding him. Suggesting he could share her tent and spend the night with her when he is always going to leave the next morning might eventually make Laura doubtful about the depth of his feelings, the truthfulness of his intentions, when it is actually the other way around: he just wants to cling to whatever chances he might have to give her, and receive from her, just a tiny fraction of what they both deserve and long for.
As soon as he puts his wishes into words, her face lights up. Seeing her look back at him with that splendid smile dissolves whatever was left of his worries. He feels her other hand take his, her eyes never leaving him, before she says:
"I thought you would never ask."
"I didn't know if you would like the idea."
She feels an immeasurable tenderness spread inside her body seeing him there, right in front of her, with all his masculine insecurity. Neither his uniform nor his decorations, not even his upright posture can quite disguise it.
"Which is exactly why you should ask."
He smiles and reflects for a second.
"I thought it might be better that you suggested it."
She shakes her head on the negative. She suddenly turns serious.
"I would have never suggested this, Bill."
By the shadow descending over his expression, she can tell he does not understand. She releases his hands and lifts hers to his chest. Her fingers play with his lapels absentmindedly.
"Don't you see? I don't owe anything to anyone anymore. For better or for worse, I'm free here. I'm just another settler. But you still keep your job, you still need to worry about your image, you are still setting an example." She pauses. "I know how important all this is to you. I know what it meant to me. This is why I could not suggest something like this. I would never press you on this, Bill. I don't have it in me."
He stares at her with the expression of someone who has just solved a puzzle. His mind is assaulted by the memories of all those nights he has found himself looking through the windows of the observation deck, or alone in his quarters, wondering if maybe she was looking up in that same moment, searching for the lights of Galactica in the middle of the sky.
Now he knows.
She keeps her hands right there on his chest, eyes locked with his.
"So…?" he murmurs.
Laura cocks her head with a grin. Bill is asking her to confirm something he already knows. As a reply, she slides her hands over his shoulders, strokes the nape of his neck with her fingertips and pulls him to her gently. She feels his arms climbing up her back, tightening around her. One wraps around her waist, the other winds across her shoulders. The moment his face leans over hers, she drops her eyelids. The moment she feels his lips on hers, she parts them. And he carefully explores that new space, savors it, takes it up and Laura is neither willing nor able to reject him. She grants him access to every corner while she gives back everything she receives in that kiss. She is grateful his arms are holding her: she would not trust her legs to sustain her right now.
A few seconds later, she pulls back slowly. He loosens his embrace a little, just enough to let her maneuver without letting her go. Laura's gaze is full of warmth and light. Her cheeks have flushed under his touch. It takes his breath away: she is even more beautiful with the emotion flooding her features.
"Now, Bill, what do you think I'm going to say?"
His expression relaxes into a wide smile her face immediately mirrors. And then it is her who cuddles against him again. She leans her head on his shoulder and Bill holds her tight releasing a happy sigh. He closes his eyes and lets himself drift into the joy of the moment, the sensation of having her with him, of holding her so close.
Of knowing she corresponds to his feelings.
The ease with which she fills the circle of his arms registers with him a few moments later. Concern about her health and her well-being creeps inside him. He feels frustrated for being always absent, for not being able to look after her personally, for not being close enough to make sure she always has everything she needs.
He knows all too well the loneliness that certain jobs impose on you. He has perceived the way many people still look at her despite the fact that it has been months since she left the presidency. He can tell that, even now, her former occupation creates a halo around her which keeps her apart from the others, reducing her chances at a true friendship. He wonders if there is someone who can assist her or take care of her in a moment of need. The truth is he has conflicted feelings about it: he would be relieved if there would actually be someone close to her, but he would rather not think about her having to turn to someone else for comfort and affection while he is away.
Laura does not acknowledge any authority in her life other than her own. She is free and gives herself to others only if she really wants to. He trusts she will be able to forgive him for the protective drive he is currently feeling. He will show it to her just the same. He cannot help himself anyway.
"You have lost weight." he whispers in her ear.
He does not need to see her face to know Laura has smiled at his words. After a beat, she lifts her head off his shoulder. The moment the contact is lost, the warmth is gone. He is about to regret having expressed his concern aloud when she lifts her palms to his cheeks, and suddenly her warmth is flooding through his body again from this new contact point.
"I am fine." she reassures him lovingly.
He lifts his hands and runs his fingers through her locks. She lets her lids slide shut, revels in the feel. He kisses her forehead.
"Okay."
Laura snuggles further into him and Bill knows she is not upset. This strong, stubborn, independent woman accepts his protection, his warmth, and this can only mean one thing: the feeling is mutual.
And she accepts him just like he is.
"As a matter of fact" she softly adds, "I've never felt better."
I originally wrote this fic in Spanish a year ago and translated it recently. In a way it has been harder than writing in English (like the ones I posted previously). This is the first 'translated fic' I post. Let me know your thoughts. I hope you enjoy it!
