I don't have a name for this 'verse yet, but it's one of my favourites. This is a prequel to For Fear Your Grace Should Fall and Written in the Stars. I wrote this one for a friend's birthday. She's a big Saul Tigh fan so I pretty much wrote the whole thing around his scene. It's also written using US spelling and terms, considering its setting. I'm sure I've missed changing something though!
Bill collected the keys for one of NCA Projects' pool cars and headed for the garage.
He knew Laura Roslin would want to catch up on her emails while he drove them to the building site.
He also knew she was punctual, so when the elevator opened and she wasn't already leaning against one of the concrete pillars, making calls on her cellphone, he was surprised.
He quickly located and unlocked his assigned vehicle. He climbed into the dark silver SUV and started up the engine to get some heat happening. Hopefully by the time Laura Roslin arrived, the car would be warm enough for her.
With one eye on the elevator doors, he passed the time by flicking through the radio stations until he tuned it to the news one she always liked to have on in the background.
A few minutes later, however, there was still no sign of her He pulled his cellphone out of his pocket and stared at the screen. He had no new messages; but he also had no service. The vehicle was parked in a blackspot apparently.
Checking he was in neutral and had applied the parking brake, he left the SUV running and, holding his phone out in front of him, threaded his way through the parked cars, searching for a signal.
Triumphantly he stopped when several green bars were showing on the top of his phone. He'd just flipped the phone open, his thumb poised on her speed dial key, when a set of legs distracted him.
Laura Roslin was climbing out of the backseat of a parked car about two rows from where Bill stood. Her skirt was bunched up, giving him a view of more thigh than usual. Someone still seated in the car held out her briefcase and she snatched it off them impatiently.
Once she was a decent distance from the car she stopped, smoothing her blouse with the back of her hand and shrugging into a jacket. She was patting down her hair while Bill slowly closed his cellphone and began to retreat to the car, automatically keeping within the shadows of the wall.
From one particular angle, he could clearly read the car's private number plates.
0.0.0
Laura was almost fifteen minutes late but she didn't offer any explanation to Bill Adama, nor did he ask for any, when she climbed into the passenger seat beside him. He immediately placed the car into gear and maneuvered it toward the garage exit without even bothering to mutter a greeting.
Two throw away cups sat in the center console. She picked up the one closest to her and took a experimental sip: green tea sweetened with honey. She wrapped her hands around the cup in an effort to warm them, but it wasn't as hot as it could be. Of course, he'd been on time.
She turned to thank him, but her words got stuck in her throat when she saw the way his mouth had become a thin line of disapproval.
She'd double-backed around the parking garage, knowing he would be watching out for her at the elevator, and had emerged where she would have if she'd taken the stairs.
She'd even paused and taken the time to look over her shoulder as she opened the pool car door. There was no way Adama could have seen Richard's car from where he was parked, she stressed to herself.
Yet, this barely controlled rage seeping out of his pores was not a figment of her imagination.
She looked away to stare out the window, sipping on her tea and thinking frantically. He could just be angry about something else entirely. Was she becoming as egotistical as Richard?
Why should she care what Adama thought about her and Richard anyway? It was none of his business. She was none of his business. Hell, she still hadn't even reached a first name basis with the man. And yet...
"Richard Adar is thinking of running for mayor," she said out loud, still a little shellshocked by Richard's latest revelation.
"Mayor?"
"Of New York," she elaborated unnecessarily.
Adama banged down on the car horn, making her slosh her tea. She turned to look out the windshield, but saw nothing out of the ordinary.
"Sorry," he said softly, so quietly she thought she might have dreamed it.
She fished a tissue from her pocket and wiped around the lid of her cup absentmindedly. She'd always found him to be a good driver. He rarely became flustered or angry behind the wheel. He braked just as smoothly as he accelerated. His reflexes were sharp, dodging hazards without giving her a case of whiplash.
She frowned over at his tense profile. He had such an interesting face. She was always drawn to the laugh lines around his eyes and mouth. They were so prominent, and yet she'd never seen him smile. Surprisingly, she wanted to.
He expelled a rude snort. "Adar in politics," he scoffed.
"I think he'll win," she said levelly. "He has a way about him." Even though it was probably wiser to keep the conversation general, she also asked: "What do you think?"
He never replied. His slight squint was his only reaction until he pulled up at the next red light and turned in his seat to face her.
The blue of his eyes magnified through his glasses to hypnotize her. "It doesn't matter what I think," he murmured.
She flushed guiltily, but refused to break eye contact. "He will most likely leave the firm," she commented. "Nagala will probably retire; he's been thinking about it for a while, I'd say. And that leaves..."
"Cain," he finished for her.
She gave him a wan smile before the lights changed and he again turned his concentration to the road.
0.0.0
Bill thundered down the stairs of the first bar he came across. He wasn't particularly worried about atmosphere; as long as they served something alcoholic.
After he flung his coat and scarf onto the stand just inside the doorway, he made a beeline for one of the stools at the bar.
"Whiskey, double," he told the waiting barman, tucking a couple of notes under the bar mat to make a 'tab'.
Once his first drink was served, he leaned his head back and tipped its entire contents down his throat, sighing with relief when he felt the burn. He slammed the empty glass onto the counter, nodding for another immediately.
"It's a woman."
He glanced up. A couple of stools along a scruffy man was hunched over his own glass of whiskey. It was a chaser; a bottle of beer sat beside it.
"There's ways of drinking," the man kept talking, all without glancing in Bill's direction. Bill even checked over his shoulder once, just in case there was a friend of this guy's behind him. "You drink when your kids take your car and return it without gas. You drink when your boss has had his boot up your ass all day. You drink when the horse you put money on runs last. But that-" He pointed a thin finger towards Bill's glass. "-That's the way you drink when you have woman problems."
Bill chuckled.
"Wadid she do?" he slurred, sounding drunker now than when he was on a roll.
"Nothing," Bill mumbled, staring into the amber liquid.
"She must've done somethin'. She screw around? They always screw around..." he trailed off.
Bill swirled his drink before taking another sip. "Yeah," he muttered. "She's screwing another guy, but-"
"I knew it!"
Bill jumped a little, not expecting his companion's animated response.
"Well, screw her!" The guy slid off his stool and stumbled into the one closest to Bill. "Saul Tigh."
Bill blinked. Then he realized the guy was introducing himself. "Bill Adama," he finally said.
"I bet the little weasel's someone she works with."
"Yeah," Bill sighed resignedly. "Yeah, it is."
"I knew it!" Saul repeated. "Even when you marry the bitches, they still wanna screw their boss."
Bill signaled the barman for another drink. "I didn't marry her," he said morosely.
"Whaa? Well, that's your problem."
"She's not-"
"Dammit, she's married to the weasel?" Saul interrupted.
"No. She's single. The weasel's married to someone else. And yes, he's her boss."
Saul Tigh's head wobbled drunkenly for a moment. "So... Where do you come into it all?"
"I don't. We just work together. She doesn't think about me like that."
"You think of her that way though."
"Yes. She's..."
"Curves in the right places," Tigh suggested when Bill was at a loss for words.
Bill nodded. "Definitely." He didn't think he was a sexist pig. He'd been working with women in the construction industry for a long time now. But Laura Roslin was completely different from any other woman he'd ever worked with. She was the perfect mix of femininity and assertiveness. "And her legs... Her legs can stop traffic."
Tigh hooted. "Yep, I got me one of them, but it doesn't stop her being a pain in my skinny ass. So, what's wrong with her? She's obviously not the brightest bulb if she's never snapped you up."
"Yeah, I'm a prize," he agreed dryly. "No, she's bright. She's intelligent and she's charming and she's damn good at what she does. Which is why..." He squeezed his hands around his glass much too tightly.
"Why?" Saul prompted.
"She's too good for that prick."
"You sure she's banging him?"
Bill grunted and waved his hand at the barman for yet another refill. "Yeah, I'm sure."
He looked over at his new friend. He'd told him this much, he supposed.
"It was only about a month after she started, but I'd seen her in the corridors... In the elevator... We hadn't spoken much, just a polite nod here and there. Then... The company has an annual New Year's Eve ball. Employees put on a monkey suit and get fancy at a ritzy hotel - it was The Towers that time - backslapping and backstabbing. I was at the bar, planning on how I could slip out without anyone noticing. Next thing I know she's leaning her hip, a hip I know will fit snugly in my palm, against the bar next to me. She wore this emerald green dress, a slit up to here, a neckline down to here." Bill cut his hand across his thigh and chest to emphasize his point.
"And?"
"And..." Bill swayed now at the memory. She'd leaned over to talk to him and he'd got so giddy she'd probably thought he was drunk that night. "And, we talked about books."
"What the fuck?" Saul screeched so loudly a few heads spun around to stare at them. He rolled his eyes dramatically at a couple of their fellow patrons.
"Yeah," Bill went on. "She'd noticed a couple sitting round my office the day we'd met, she said. We had the same taste in books. And..." He buried his nose in his drink, realizing how stupid it all sounded now. Maybe it was stupid. Maybe he'd imagined lots of things-then and now.
"So you were talking, all was going good, and suddenly the sonofabitch boss comes up?" Saul guessed.
"Yeah. He made out like he was just meeting and greeting everyone. But it was obvious. Especially when I looked at her. She held my gaze for a few moments and it was as good as a confession."
"Wha' you do after that?"
"Nothing," Bill mumbled.
"Nothing? This was last New Year's?"
"No. It was New Year's three years ago," Bill muttered.
"Three years? I hate to tell you, old man, but you're a fuckin' pussy."
"We've been working on the same project the last few months. First time we've ever worked directly together."
"Oh no. And now you're in here getting drunk with a loser like me." Saul turned and threw his arms out toward the couple of tables scattered throughout the bar. "This is not a happy ending, folks!" he shouted.
Bill ignored his theatrics until he felt a thump on the back. He leaned back and looked blindly around the bar. "I've come to like her," he confessed. "Before, it was... Something else," he settled on that term, not wanting to admit he'd only wanted sex with Laura. That made him no better than Adar. "But now, I really likeher, and knowing she's still with him is just..."
"Making you get drunk with a loser like me?" Saul suggested.
Bill snorted and clinked his glass against Saul's. "Yeah."
0.0.0
Laura settled into the low couch to wait for Adama. Since they'd started working together, they'd always met in his office. It was smaller than hers, and much more cluttered, but she felt much more at ease meeting with him here.
She told herself it had nothing to do with the fact she and Richard had, on occasion, had sex in her office.
She kicked her shoes off and tucked her legs up under her bottom, scanning through the requests she'd just received from Taylor.
She found it difficult to concentrate, however, now that she'd thought about Richard. She threw the loose sheets of paper into a careless pile on the coffee table and leaned her head back, closing her eyes.
She hated thinking about Richard when she was around Bill Adama. And though Adama wasn't technically here, his office was so full of his personal effects - she felt his presence in the room.
Richard was about to announce his new political aspirations officially. They would need to be much more careful; or she could just end it once and for all.
"Sorry I'm late."
She opened her eyes. Adama was standing in front of her, his hands grasped together in front of him, his gaze concentrated on the floor as though he was trying to avoid looking at her directly.
"I just came from another meeting."
"You had a meeting without me?" she teased.
He never raised his eyes. She resisted the childish urge to adjust her legs, just to see what his reaction would be.
"It was with Adar," he confessed quietly.
A flush automatically began to spread across her neck and face when he mentioned Richard's name. She desperately hoped it wouldn't give her away. Somewhere along the line it had become important that she hide everything about her affair from Bill Adama.
"I didn't-"
"I've quit," he interrupted. "My resignation will be effective as soon as we sign off on this job."
She blinked, wondering if she'd heard correctly. "Quit?" she finally repeated. "But, Nagala-"
"You were right. Nagala does intend to retire. He's announcing it at the New Year's ball. Adar's going to steal his thunder and announce he's running for Mayor at the same event."
She shut her mouth with a snap; her jaw had gaped open. Richard's timing was news to her. It was only late November and the way Richard had been talking last night, she'd thought he was going to call a press conference by the end of the week.
"I thought I might go out on my own."
"I see," she said slowly. "I'll-" She pressed her lips together. Was she really about to admit that she'd miss him?
"Perhaps we should get down to business," he murmured finally after a long awkward silence had fallen between them.
"Yes." She cleared her throat. "You've spoken to Taylor?"
0.0.0
Bill entered the plush foyer of the five star motel and, for not the first time tonight, wondered what the hell he was doing. He'd officially resigned from NCA three weeks ago; he didn't need to put in an appearance at the New Year's Ball.
Laura Roslin had been on vacation, visiting relatives on the west coast for Christmas according to Dee, when he'd packed up his office. Dee had also told him that she was back in New York now and was expected to be present tonight. His decision to attend the ball had nothing to do with this at all, of course. Antonio Nagala had invited him and he'd felt compelled to accept out of respect for that man.
He soon found a sign which directed guests to the room their event was being held in. Beside it there were instructions for the press who'd also been invited. It seemed Adar was still going ahead with his little announcement.
With a sigh Bill slowly made his way to the bank of elevators. A bell soon heralded the arrival of one, but he swung around quickly before stepping into it when its doors opened. The elevator had a mirrored wall and something - no, someone - behind him had caught his attention.
He hesitated for about five seconds, and then made his way to the small but elegant bar tucked away in the back corner of the foyer.
He passed by the bar and ordered a whiskey before dragging a seat over and joining the woman sitting by herself at one of the low tables.
The sides of her hair were swept up and secured on her crown with a simple tortoiseshell colored comb. The rest curled around the collar of her heavy winter coat which she still wore. He caught a glimpse of a dusky pink evening dress beneath. A cigarette was perched awkwardly between the fingers of her left hand. A glass - lipstick stains on its rim - of white wine sat near where her crossed legs pressed against the edge of the table.
"Didn't know you smoked," he commented as she took a long drag on the cigarette.
She tilted her head back and expertly exhaled a plume of smoke high into the air, away from their faces. "I don't," she drawled.
His drink arrived. He could feel her eyes on him as he tipped the waiter and took a sip.
"You've been away I heard. You had a nice time with your family?" he babbled, now wanting to avoid talking about work for as long as possible.
She stared down at the tip of her cigarette and he was sure a shudder ran through her body. Finally she looked back up and held his gaze. "Let's get to the point," she said crisply.
"So... You and Cain..." he started.
"Could never work together," she said, grinding the cigarette out into an ashtray sitting on the far edge of the table. He noted there were no other stubs lying in it. "I delivered my resignation to her yesterday." She leaned back in her chair and tugged her coat around her tighter, retying its belt. "Richard's invited me to join his campaign."
He raised his eyebrows.
"My official title would be City Infrastructure Advisor."
He quickly looked away, willing himself not to imagine what the unofficial title would be.
"He's ambitious. He's already talking about the switch from the mayor's office to the Oval Office."
Bill swallowed his retort with a sip of whiskey. It was better he didn't make any comment.
"Billy told me you've headhunted Dee, Tyrol, Kelly and Laird."
"I'm not sure if headhunted is the right word," he said evenly. He wasn't going to let Cain say he'd done anything underhanded. "I asked them to leave NCA and work with me, and they've accepted."
"You got anyone coming in who isn't from NCA? Any fresh blood, as they would say?" she asked, her interrogatory tone all business now.
"Yeah. I've employed a guy name Saul Tigh. He's not exactly fresh, but he's got the experience I need. I'm arranging to take on a lot of young kids, apprentices. I need at least one old hand."
"That's a lot of permanent staff to manage. Plus you'll need to oversee the subcontractors and necessary casual employees; liaise with the clients; not to mention the marketing and advertising side of things. Lot of work for one man. And a lot of initial set up costs."
He shrugged. "My bank has financed me for twelve months. But yeah, the pressure's on-if we don't pull any profit on the first couple of jobs, we'll go bust."
"Twelve months? If you had double your capital, you'd have two years. Probably still risky, but it would give us a little bit of breathing space."
He'd been so caught up in the conversation, it took him a moment to recognize what she'd just said 'us' and he'd said 'we'. It could be a slip of the tongue, of course. He shouldn't jump to conclusions, even if the most likely way to double his capital was to have someone as a partner.
Still with a thoughtful look on her face, she picked up her glass and downed the end of her wine in one gulp.
"You want another?" he asked.
"No. I-" She broke off when her cellphone buzzed. She flipped it open and raised one eyebrow. Next, she retrieved her reading glasses from the coat's pocket and donned them before thumbing a reply via a text message.
"That was Adar," she told him when she was finished. "He's wondering where I am."
Bill fought the urge to grab the phone off her and text a message back himself. He decided staring into his drink was a better alternative.
"Billy's a good kid," she went on. "We'll need him on board."
Bill froze and kept staring into his glass.
"But the first thing we'll need to do is come up with a name. Something catchy. Adama and Associates?"
He'd finally looked up at her when she'd made that suggestion. Her nose was crinkled - so damn adorably, he thought with a jolt.
"That name's taken," he husked. "It was the name of my father's law firm."
She giggled. "Lucky I didn't like it then. No, if we're going to go with our names, I'll want to have Roslin in there somewhere too. Roslin and Adama? Rodama? Just the initials? RA?"
Finally he was relaxed enough to tease her: "What about AR?"
She mock glared at him over the top of her glasses. "You don't believe in ladies' first?"
He chuckled.
"You want to go up to the party? There's a dancefloor."
"No, I-"
His answer was buzzed out by her phone. Again she flipped it open and read the screen.
"It's Adar. Yes or no?" she asked.
"Yes, you're interested in a new career challenge. No, it won't be in the political arena," he dared suggest. "How's that?"
She hummed. "Sounds perfect." She tilted her head to one side. "I just need to add one thing." Her thumb flew over the phone's keys with a speed he envied. "There." She turned the screen around to face him.
"By the way," he read out loud, "I don't drink coffee. Any moron would know this."
She grimaced. "That really annoyed me about him, Bill."
He chuckled. "A lot of things annoyed me about him, Laura."
The End