Hold Steady to Me
Her hand swept across the cragged skin of his face, desperately feeling, clenching at the valleys and mountains. They greeted her like old friends, steadying her, calming her. A thumb traced along his cheek. He needed to shave. The stubble scraped against her palm making a sort of crunching noise. Laura smiled in response. It was all she could do to keep herself from falling apart. Focus on the details, and she wouldn't have to think about the big picture.
He smiled back. It was a smile plagued by fatigue and tinged with desperation, just barely managing to cling onto the glimmer of hope standing before him. Laura. For Laura, he could smile back.
She couldn't meet his eyes. Instead, she let her head crash into his chest. He always felt so solid, an unquestioning source of strength by her side. If at this very moment, her legs lost hold of whatever physical stamina she had left, he would hold her up. She felt an arm reach across her back, pushing her forward, helping her to move with him. She followed. One step after another, she allowed him to guide her back to his quarters, their quarters.
Once through the hatch, Laura felt his hand drop to her waist. It pulled her toward him until she was fully wrapped in his embrace. Following his lead, her arms snaked slowly around his middle. She pressed herself as close to him as she could manage. She wanted to feel his heart beating against her own. A harsh pounding reverberated through her body, so strong it rang in her ears. Was that his heart? No. It was the hatch. Someone was pounding on the hatch.
Reluctantly, Laura loosened her grip and Bill moved toward the door. Colonel Tigh stood on the other side.
"All ready, sir."
Bill nodded in response and moved back toward Laura. He had to leave. She knew it. There were some repercussions that could not be put on hold. His hands squeezed tightly against her shoulders. "You okay?" he asked.
She smiled as best she could. "Go," she whispered back.
Bill pulled her toward him once again, this time stopping just short of a full embrace. Instead, he placed a soft kiss on the top of her head. She could barely feel it through the wig. Tigh let out a disgruntled cough behind them, and Bill turned to leave, sealing the hatch shut behind them.
Laura sighed. She wanted to cry, but seemed to have forgotten how. Her mind was fogged over with exhaustion, too tired to conjure any tears. She turned toward the head. It hadn't been more than twenty-four hours since her last shower, but it felt like days. Her weak body craved the crushing warmth of hot water beating against her back. Shrugging her blazer off her shoulders Laura started walking. It was a slow and laborious process. Each step felt heavy, like she was moving through mud. More clothing items were deposited onto the floor: a fitted v-neck top, one shoe and then the other, black dress pants and a fraying bra. Finally, leaving a trail of discarded clothing behind her, she reached the head. Its bright fluorescent lights flickered on, and Laura immediately felt nauseas. The room started spinning; it transformed into a dizzying swarm of flickering colors. Leaning heavily against the stink, she closed her eyes and took a few steadying breaths. The spinning subdued slightly. Unsure whether this was a side effect of diloxin or exhaustion, Laura decided to forgo the shower entirely. The stability of the rack seemed like a much better option.
Only five and a half steps to the bed, Laura counted as she walked. For a brief moment, she thought about calling Cottle, but immediately shot down the idea. No need to sound the alarms. Bill would be back soon enough, and they could handle whatever this was together.
Finally, Laura reached the rack and slumped onto its soft surface. She was still mostly naked, wearing nothing but her underwear. A set of Bill's tanks lay on the floor next to the bed. Laura unraveled the outermost tank and threw it on. She didn't care that the fabric hung awkwardly on her fragile frame, barely able to conceal her breasts. If anyone came in, the blankets would cover her well enough.
Laura slid underneath the covers and closed her eyes. Lying down helped tremendously. The spinning sensation was almost gone, the nausea at the back of her throat becoming less and less apparent. Still, Laura remained cautious. She turned slowly in the rack so that her front was facing outward. This way, she could see Bill when he returned.
That is, if he returned.
Laura quickly pushed the thought out of her mind. He was alive. He was alive, and he would be back soon. She didn't have to worry anymore. Laura closed her eyes again, trying desperately to forget the day's events. Like an echoing gong, Tom Zarek's voice still rang in her ears.
"It's over, Laura…Bill Adama was tried and found guilty of his crimes. A firing squad executed him this morning. It's done."
The harder she tried to make it stop the more deafening it became. Over and over and over again, the bell chimed. Eventually, Zarek's voice went silent, and Laura's mind mellowed. She slowly drifted into a steady sleep.
Sometime later, Bill returned. He stumbled back into the room, consumed by a deep weariness that seemed to seep into his bones. The execution had been standard. No surprises. No unexpected rebellions. Just gunshots.
Killing was never easy. But after the months of anguish and disappointment, he had learned to numb himself against death and loss. It hurt. It always hurt. But it hurt in a way that was manageable. It hurt in a way that he didn't have to think about it. He could just move on, next crisis, and never look back.
Looking back, that's what could get you in trouble.
Bill had finished unbuttoning his uniform. The rest of his clothes came off without much thought. Wearing only his boxers, he climbed into bed, gingerly swinging himself over Laura who was still sound asleep. He chuckled at the sight of his giant tank draped haphazardly across her torso. Laura sighed in her sleep. Bill wrapped an arm around her middle, securing her against him. She flinched slightly, and he cursed himself for waking her. With some effort, Laura rolled toward him, pushing their bodies even closer together. He felt a hand run tentatively up his chest and circle around the back of his neck, fingering the thickness of his hair.
"They told me you were dead," she whispered, barely loud enough for him to hear.
"I know," he said.
"I…" Laura's voice cracked, and she choked out a sob. It raked through her entire body. Bill could feel it vibrate through his own.
He pulled her closer still. Laura burrowed her head into his chest and pushed her leg between his own. She wanted to feel every part of him, to know he was alive. Her nails dug roughly into his scalp, as if trying to embed themselves into his skin. She couldn't bear to lose him, not even the thought of him. His hand rested against the back of her head, caressing her soft skin. "I'm right here," he mumbled into her ear. "I'm right here".