Title: Scatter and Fall
Author: Trialia
Fandom: Battlestar Galactica (2003)
Rating: T
Word Count: 1371
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Laura Roslin/Bill Adama
Beta: Maidel (xmaidelx) & Heather (orbitaldiamonds)
Spoilers: 4x11 Sometimes A Great Notion
Summary: Sometimes, you have to use the time you've got.
A/N: This was written before A Disquiet Follows My Soul aired...
x
It's late when she finally crawls into bed with him; late enough that his breathing is deep and even in the shadows of their quarters when she closes and locks the hatch behind her, knowing well that she can undress in the dark just as easily as in the light.
Like a thief in the night, she thinks dully. And I am. I stole the hope of the people to get us here, and now look what it's brought me to. I made an atheist who hated me believe and love me, and for what? Because I wanted to? And Laura Roslin always gets what she wants.
I just want this to end.
I want to die.
I'd rather have died than bring us all to this. We should have stayed on Kobol. At least there, there was life, not this morass of old, grey-and-white death.
She carefully avoids thinking about the revelation of the thirteenth tribe themselves. Instead, she concentrates on folding her suit into a small pile on the floor. She doesn't dress for bed, merely slipping into the rack in her underthings. As cold as she so often is, Bill Adama has always been a welcome human radiator.
It doesn't matter anyway. You'll be much colder soon, Laura.
She's so tired even her racing thoughts can't keep her awake much longer, and so she drifts, almost numbed by the weight of the day, into the darkness and warmth of sleep...
It feels like he's slept a long time, when he wakes, though he wonders that he managed to sleep at all. He can feel the dried salt of tears on his face, and bites off a groan of pain when he is reminded of place and time and of all that's happened.
Laura's slow breathing in front of him is a touchstone that brings a rush of comfort, just for a moment.
She's not having a nightmare, then. Must have been tired...
He flicks on the low rack-side lamp, gazing over at her sleeping form in the dim light. She'd not put her scarf on to sleep, and the sight of her so vulnerable tugs at his heart. He shifts toward her back, sliding an arm over her waist beneath the blankets. Her skin is soft, and he strokes lightly over the slight swell of her belly and up toward her ribs, still too visible. She's so thin now. The Diloxin takes a toll on her, and while this treatment may be over, some effects linger.
She's said she's giving up, that she won't go on with the treatment. She meant it. His heart clenches at the bare thought of losing her at all, let alone losing her now, after all the battles she's fought and won. "We've," she'd say, but it wasn't that way all along and he hasn't forgotten that.
She was so coldly determined; so much pain in her eyes. There's still the hope that this most recent course has cured her - the results aren't back yet - but if not, he doesn't know how to talk her into staying. She's so stubborn, and they'd put so much on Earth. He's not sure she has much left to fight with, but he knows he'd give her everything he has if it could help her survive, and even if it didn't.
He can't lose Laura. Especially not now.
His arm tightens around her. She's asleep, but he can't help but talk to her, cuddle her close and let out things he would have never admitted a year ago.
"Please don't go," he whispers brokenly. "I love you, Laura. I don't... don't think I could do this without you." She's soft against him, and he buries his nose in the back of her bare neck, whispering, pleading. "Don't give up, love. Please, Laura, don't leave me now." He can feel his own tears running over the bridge of his nose to drip to the pillow below, hot and heavy and full of his fears for her.
She shifts against his encircling arm, and he realises he's holding her too tightly, but he can't let go.
She's been good at pretending sleep for a long time now. She'd used that skill extensively in detention on New Caprica, but she'd never wanted to use it here, until she'd heard Bill murmuring things to her that he didn't think she could hear while she slept. It hadn't been the first time, she was sure.
When she realises he's crying, though, she can't help but stop faking and turn in his arms to take him in hers. Overwhelmed by her own pain, she'd deliberately brushed aside any thought of his in this matter... she just wants it to stop, but she realises something, suddenly and sharply.
It won't stop until everything does. Even if she dies, if she lets herself die of the cancer that's eating her from the inside out, the pain she's caused other people won't end. And it won't fix a godsdamned thing.
All of this has happened before and all of it will happen again.
Frakking Pythia.
She holds him tightly, face buried under his chin, and mutters semi-coherent apologies. Of all the people she's had to deem expendable and forget, he could never be one.
"Love you," she breathes into his skin, and he clings to her harder.
"Laura," he says. Nothing more than her name, and yet, she knows. Her lips find his throat, and she kisses all the skin she can reach, almost frantically, wanting him to know she's still here, that she's not gone yet.
There are tears on her face, too, when he draws back just a little to see her; his throat feels like it's closing up from the rush of emotion. His hands are on her upper arms, too desperate to be as gentle as usual, and he pulls her to him for a kiss that is as fierce on her side as it is from his.
He wants to keep her here, to make her forget the entire idea of letting herself - letting herself give up, and though he knows how much the treatments hurt, he wants her to go through them if they'll keep her alive; wants her to know he'll be there every step of the way, that he won't let go.
"Laura," he manages when his mouth is free, "I - "
"I know," she interrupts, bringing his hand up to her mouth and pressing a hard kiss to his knuckles. "I'm... I'm sorry."
A small sob breaks free from him, and he tightens his hand around hers with a hard shake of his head before reclaiming her lips, his free hand sliding down to cup one breast. If he doesn't have her for long, he's not going to waste the time they have left. She moans into his mouth as he rubs his thumb over her nipple, and arches into the touch, hips pressing forward, tongue licking around the inside edges of his lips. He deepens the kiss, slowly, making it last. He wants to make all of this last, so much.
Her fingernails are pressing into his shoulder, and the sharp sting makes him aware he'll have bruises tomorrow, but he doesn't care. It won't be the first time. Her lips are warm and slightly chapped against his, and as he pulls back, he tugs her lower lip gently between his teeth and she makes a little sound that's half moan, half gasp, and all fire.
Like her hair used to be, he thinks; the inadvertent thought hurts.
"No more thinking," he whispers, to her and to himself, before kissing her again.
That's what I want. Take away everything else, leave nothing but this.
Nothing matters but Laura.
He'd never admit it in words, but he'd abandon anything he's ever wanted if he can only keep her. He's tried.
With that, he lets himself be lost in loving her, drawing out everything he can from her and giving it back in equal measure, until she cries out again and again, her beauty only magnified by the look on her face and the flush of her body.
She'll always be beautiful, no matter what.
-fin