He rues the day they won't have this freedom to see each other outside of work anymore, and part of him desperately wishes that the status quo will change enough between them that they won't have to choose.
Good Morning To The Night
It's been many months since he's seen her. Too long, and during a far too trying time. He can't know that after this visit, there won't be another one.
Baltar has been making ever-more outrageous demands on his people for their expertise, and he just keeps losing more and more to the settlement, and he's finally just tired enough of everything to leave Saul in charge of it all for a night and head down to the planet himself.
He finds her having dinner at the bar with a couple of parents whose children she teaches. He walks inside and spots her just as she's throwing her head back in a deep belly laugh. It's good to see her so happy, and so open. There's nothing like being in charge to inspire emotional constipation, and though he's been privy to her private self as her friend and confidant, he's glad to see she is making new friends here on New Caprica too. She more than deserves the reprieve.
Around the bar he can see other familiar faces from his now almost-empty ship; Tyrol and Cally sit at a table across the way, talking with people he doesn't recognise, but guesses must be part of the union. He doesn't have it in him tonight to give those people any more thought than a passing consideration, and he continues walking, one hand in his pocket, and laziness to his gait that he's enjoying.
He walks up to her slowly, dressed in the few civilian clothes he owns. She notices him after a moment, but it takes a second for the other three to realise who he is. They sober a little, but don't lose the good humour of their current mood, and for that he's glad.
"Admiral" she greets, still grinning. She's teasing him, and he finds it cute. He hadn't told her he was coming, but she just takes it in her stride and wordlessly pulls out the stool next to her in silent invitation.
"Laura" he replies with a smile. "Hi" he says to the people at the table, with an open and friendly smile.
There's a chorus of hellos and it only takes them a minute to recognise that he's on downtime and in no mood to be treated as per his rank. The other man at the table passes him a half-full glass of something that looks homemade and very dangerous, his wife smirking at an apparent in-joke between them.
"You mind taking that of my hands, Admiral? Early work tomorrow- wouldn't want a headache"
"I know what you mean" he laughs, but takes the offered drink anyway, appreciating the gesture as he sits in the vacant space between Laura and a woman who is here by herself.
"Speaking of which" starts the man's wife (or who he assumes is his wife, given the matching wedding bands). "We should really be going"
"Oh no" says Laura, pouting just a little. She might be tipsy, but she's more animated than usual, and it's nice to see. Bill wishes he could have seen her with her family or close friends back home and in another time; he imagines there's a whole other side of her he'll never know.
"Sorry Laura- you know how it is"
"Yes, I do indeed. I doubt it will be a late one for me either. School does not rest for the wicked, or the hung-over"
The parents laugh and take their leave, giving Laura a hug and him a friendly wave.
"I should really be off too" says the third woman, sliding off her stool in a way that is far too wobbly for Bill's liking. He takes her arm to steady her and she smiles politely at him.
"What, you too? You're all leaving me?"
"Mark is still not too good- I should really get back and make sure he hasn't died on me in my absence"
Both women chuckle. Bill almost squirms. There's been too much death and disease and illness in the city, he knows, and that these two women are laughing at it means it's now so commonplace it's to be expected. That worries him. He knows Laura takes care of herself, but he desperately hopes she's being smart about her health. He'd hate to think what it would do to his emotions if she was taken ill while she was down here and he was on Galactica, unable to do anything.
"I'll see you tomorrow at the meeting?" asks the woman, eyeing Laura meaningfully.
"Oh Jess, you know me- I can't be bothered with all that political Union stuff"
He almost laughs into his drink at that, and given the way Jess is grinning he can tell that Laura's apparent political neutrality is as funny to her as it is to him. It's the greatest of ironies, and he takes a moment to appreciate it.
"Still, you should check it out. Tyrol's got some great ideas he's cooking up- you might be interested in setting up a teacher's union, now that there's a few of you"
"We'll see" she says diplomatically, in a tone that Bill recognises as disguised denial. "I'll let you know at school pick-up tomorrow"
"Okay, fair enough. Don't let him get you drunk" she says, by way of farewell, and Bill only holds up his glass in silent salute.
"It was nice to meet you too" he says.
Jess laughs as she walks away, giving one last wave in their direction.
"Seems I scared away all your friends" he says mildly.
She gives him a sideways smirk.
"Sorry" he says.
"It's okay; they were getting ready to go anyway"
"Looks like I got here just in time for the change of the guard, then"
She hums and bumps his shoulder with her own on the beat of the music that's coming from the small band in the corner.
"It's good to see you. I didn't expect you" she says, her voice light.
"Last minute decision. I'm just so sick of Baltar's bullshit I needed one night away"
"Lee taking watch?"
"Technically it's Saul, but…"
She grins and takes a sip of her drink.
"I figure he can handle DRADIS for one night without me"
She laughs at him. She knows he's been improving his relationship with his son, but there is still tension there, and she imagines that it has something to do with his stubborn refusal to hand over the reins, retire, and settle down. They all know that Saul won't be on Galactica much longer- Ellen has been vocal about settling, and Bill won't keep his friend locked away in space forever. Lee has never understood his father, though he's tried to respect him. He thinks he knows what Galactica means to him, but Laura can understand that it's just a part of Bill she has to accept. She doesn't get it, but she doesn't really want to; all she needs to know is that he needed a break, and he came here.
"When do you have to go back?" she asks, taking a sip of her drink.
"Later tonight. I'm on early watch first thing in the morning"
She nods. She knows he prefers to sleep in his own rack before a long shift, and she can forgive him that because hers is not so comfortable to share, even with a wonderful bunkmate.
"That union has its hands full" he says.
"Yes it does. And Baltar keeps coming up with evermore imaginative ways to keep its voice strong. I swear he just sits up in that ship with his small harem and does nothing except assign blame"
He can see the bitterness in her, though she has said before that she's glad to be out of the big chair. But he thinks she'd rather have all that responsibility back than watch her people fall further and further from the prosperity they were promised. If he's being totally honest, he can see her back in that chair in a couple of years' time. The people were naive once, but if she was an option in the running, he thinks they wouldn't be again. He rues the day they won't have this freedom to see each other outside of work anymore, and part of him desperately wishes that the status quo will change enough between them that they won't have to choose. It feels forward, but he thinks she'd understand what he's saying.
"What about you" she says, turning her eyes from the crowd back to him. "Do you see yourself ever settling?"
"I hadn't really thought about it" he lies, and she says nothing to catch him out, instead having a sip of her drink. With a sigh she puts down her drink and clasps her hands on the table top, a ghost of President Roslin shining through. She looks over to Chief and Cally, remembering the rally earlier that day, and recognising the difference that ten months can make. He's watching her, and can pinpoint the exact moment she finds the words.
"Someday- someday sooner rather than later- you're going to have to pass on the torch whether you want to or not, and when you do, you'll have a decision to make"
He looks at her silently, that expression on his face that's trying to be ignorant, but instead comes across as contemplative. She can read him too well anyway; he knows she can see the cogs churning in his mind. It's one thing for Baltar to unceremoniously force him out of his chair. It's quite another for her to suggest that she'd wait for that day with anticipation.
"And what have you got to say about this decision that I'll have to make?"
"Nothing. It's yours and yours alone" she says, throwing a hand up in surrender and taking another sip of her drink.
"And if I stayed in the air?"
She smiles softly at him, and he thinks he's really screwed because she can see right through him, even in these hypotheticals.
"I'd miss you. And I guess I'd just have to find an excuse to take time off to visit"
He grins at her; at the implication that if he was going to be a stubborn mule and stay on his ship, she'd just come to him instead.
"And if I settle?" He rasps. They can both feel that this option carries far more weight than the first, and she meets his eye with that look that seems soft, but which holds a deeper meaning in her eyes.
"I think we could work something out until you found a place of your own"
She grins shyly then, her bold moment out there for judgement. He's not going to fool himself that he doesn't know exactly what she's saying.
"Well, I guess we'll cross that bridge when we come to it, then" he says, giving them an exit from what could be a conversation that jumps the gun. They're not ready- either of them- to turn this into a serious talk, and at least now they'll both be prepared for that day when the President orders him into retirement and hands the military to his son. She knows he won't leave his ship any other way.
"Yes we will" she answers softly, deeply, hiding the hint of a smile behind the rim of her glass as she takes another sip. They both down their moonshine in a single gulp, hissing against the taste. For homemade stuff it's not too bad, but it still goes down like a fireball.
"And until then, Sir" she says, standing before him. "Can you dance?"
She holds out her hand, a glint in her eye and a smirk on her face, and he thinks that it doesn't much matter that they aren't ready for that talk, because this right here is just fine.
"You know I can" he replies.
He stands up and takes her hand, and they walk onto the dance floor that's only slightly crowded with people. They fall into that familiar position, standing just slightly closer together with lazy smiles, and these decisions seem so far away. They have time. They are so close; right on the edge of something great, and just a single step away from it. They have between then and now to learn each other and grow closer, and hopefully the next time he visits it will feel right to ask if he can stay the night with her. He thinks she might just let him too.
A/N: Title from the song Mona Lisas and Mad Hatters by Elton John. I guess it's kind of relevant; people settling down in a new place, finding new people, appreciating a new home. Also for the line:
"They know not if it's dark outside or light"