COMMENCEMENT
Disclaimer: Characters are not mine – although they should be & are in my heart (especially Laura, *hee*). This is my altered & continued version of "Crossroads II". The trial and everything just remains the same, but the conversation Bill & Laura have on CIC actually happens in Bill's quarters. I will add that part here (in italics), so you can see where I started from. :o)
Chapter 1
LR: "Gaius Baltar is innocent. Just the thought of it makes my skin crawl."
BA: "Not guilty is not the same as innocent."
LR: "It must've been particularly difficult for you. What did you, just... couldn't you get the other two guys to bulge?"
BA: (sighs)
LR: (eyes tearing up) You voted for his acquittal, didn't you?"
BA: "I hate to say it. Defense made their case, prosecution didn't."
LR: "Gaius Baltar is a traitor. We both know that. Regardless of the outcome of this trial."
BA: "No one's asking anyone to forget. Or to forgive. But we have to look to the future."
"You weren't there, Bill." Laura looked at him, her eyes darkened by sadness.
"I know, and I'm sorry." Adama said with a soothing undertone.
"This isn't about you being sorry." Laura shook her head. "You weren't there. You don't understand."
Bill looked at her, listening to the sincerity in her calm voice.
"I was there. In the tents, in the brig, on the death list, Bill. They arrested me. They tied up my hands, they put me in that truck with the others. We were scared, Bill, scared to death. We didn't know what would happen to us." She laughed slightly, her voice giving away her fear and despair at the memory of that haunting moment. "They stopped in the middle of nowhere. They lined us up, ready to be shot by machines. They wanted a massacre, Bill, do you understand that?"
Laura's eyes bore into him, pleading for him to see her dark version of New Caprica.
"As if it wasn't bad enough that they came for us in the middle of the night, they arrested us for mere suspicion of collaborating with the resistance." She lowered her head, holding the tears at bay. Tears of rage, tears of helplessness, of the loneliness of a survivor.
"How do you think I felt when they put me in detention? Do you think it was only tough on Saul Tigh?" Laura closed her eyes to shake off the memory of the first time she had seen him with only one eye left.
She sighed dismissively. "They took me. In the middle of the night. They threw me in a cell. A cell with one small window, far out of my reach, high enough so I couldn't see outside but managed to get the brunt of the blinding sun. It was freezing cold, isolated and every second I lived in fear of what I would see or hear next."
Bill didn't dare to look away from her, feeling like comforting her, yet knowing that she would shake him off.
"There was no food. There was no bed, no chair, no nothing. Just a sandy floor and thick cold walls. Oh yes, of course, there was a door. It was closed, but you knew when they were watching you. They wanted to see you go mad. They wanted to break you." She gasped. "Manipulation. It sounds so easy to fight when you hear it now, but it's pure hell when you are confronted with it."
Bill tried to find the right words to interrupt her. He failed. So she went on, the absent look in her eyes hurting his soul already.
"Do you have any idea how helpless I felt? There was nothing I could do. There was no escape." She lowered her head again. "There was a limit to my strength. How often do you think you can fight them? How often can you take a hit, a kick, a threat?"
Bill's eyes drifted shut at the image that crawled into his head. He tried to shake it off, it was no use.
"How well do you cope with being molested by a Cylon in the presence of others or alone when there's no escape, no rescue team, no hope?" She sighed again, her voice switching from insistent to a whisper. "How long do you think I was able to keep up the mask of superiority? Of dignity, of grace? There is no grace, Bill, in detention. There is no grace when you don't know whether the next time that door is opened you will loose your life, or your soul." A tear ran down her cheeks. "There is no pride left at a certain point, Bill. There is a level of pressure you will never understand. Men will never understand the level of fear you go through as a woman. The mere possibility hanging in the room as thick fog, reminding you of the fact that you are only a piece of meat to them, that you are alive at their disposal. That the hell you are enduring could get even worse, worse than you ever dared imagine"
She shook her head. "Don't tell me that not guilty isn't the same thing as innocent. It sure is when you felt their hands on your body, when you felt their feet in your rib cage & ties around your hands. There is no distinction when you heard their gunshots, when you had to bow to their rules, and when you were their chosen target." Laura shook her head. "Don't tell me about any fine lines, Bill, about the need to go on, to forgive and forget. Nothing that happened on New Caprica could be forgiven or forgotten. Nor should it be."
Bill sat motionless for a moment, observing how she tried to control herself again. The pain she had just begun to share with him was deep, and it didn't only make her skin crawl, now it affected him, made him ache, made him feel sick to his soul. He hadn't seen it from her perspective. He hadn't seen it from Saul's. He had tried to see it from a distance none of them would ever have. They had molested her. He had never dared to ask or to pursue that thought. He had feared it though, her words ringing in his head like a sad reminder of the wrong decision he had made only a few hours ago. A decision that would haunt him as much as her experiences haunted her.
Bill sighed. He tried to shrug off the pictures, the pictures her story had created in his mind. The pictures that were cruel to him because he began to understand how harsh New Caprica had been on her. He had suspected that she hadn't told him all the details since the rescue. He had never dared to ask. And now, he knew, and he wished he didn't. Not because he didn't care, but because he was afraid of the hate, the rage and the anger he would feel.
Bill studied her face, exanimate still. Her tears threatening to escape her flooded eyes, her strong will holding them back. He shook his head, reaching out his hands to hold hers, to protect her. If not then, now was the time to make up for it.
"We need to talk about this, deal with it. We can't just forget the past, and we shouldn't even try. But, Laura the future is what we should be focusing on now."
Laura Roslin looked at him, her disappointment visible in every fiber of her being. "Bill, you, of all people."
"We have to move on." He tried to pick up his argument.
"Move on?" Laura's voice broke. "Bill, the only thing we've been doing so far is moving on!"
"We haven't dealt with what's happened. We've been fleeing. That's it." He moved closer to her, feeling her tension vaporizing into a need for closeness. "We have to stop suppressing the pain and the doubt, that's the only way we can move on." He took a deep breath. "Tell me about detention, Laura. Don't lock it up inside of you somewhere. It will destroy you with the time. Share your burden with me. I'm here, I'm listening, and I won't go anywhere. Then in time, we can move past this – together." He pulled her into a tight embrace, locking his own fear away. A fear of not being able to cope with her distress, not being enough for her, of messing it up again. He wished he had airlocked Baltar after all. He hated himself for his misjudgment. While he stood by his claim that the case against Baltar wasn't strong, the man in him who loved Laura Roslin felt ashamed for his actions. He had let her down. He wouldn't do that again.
He held her close, as close as he could possibly hold her without hurting her. He had pulled her onto his lap, her hands resting on his chest. Her body stiff when she told him about the resistance, the suicide bombings, her arrest. She had tried to move on without forgetting. She had seen too many people die. She had faced too many dark truths about what was supposed to be a community of people that stuck together against the Cylons on a run for their lives, when these people – her fellow humans – had turned against them. She had survived. She had choked back many tears, many pains and sorrows. She had toughened up. It had been necessary since the Colonies had been nuked. It had been a painful realization on New Caprica that she hadn't seen and experienced it all by then.
It had been a great relief to feel the tender bond of respect and trust growing into more after they spent those wonderful stress free moments together on the planet – free from responsibility, free of the burden of power, free just to be themselves. It was nice to know that she had a confidant on Galactica. Someone who argued with her while understanding the tough decisions she had to make. It was good to know that she didn't have to face her cancer alone, that he was there, at the other end of the line as well as in person. He tried to protect her. And she had gotten used to that sensation, to his support, to his loyalty. She depended on it. So she sought the protection of his arms when she told him about the fearful days she had spent in detention. About the examinations, the interrogations, the threats. She tried to explain the feelings of insecurity and panic to him, and the thin line between survival and giving up hope.
Bill fought with tears at the thought of having left her behind, of not having been there. He started to caress her, absentmindedly, trying to block the feeling of uneasiness that crawled from his stomach to his heart when he found the courage to form his fear into words.
"Did they..." he choked a wave of panic. "Did they… touch you?"
Laura moved her head from his shoulder to study his face. The pain in his eyes at the mere assumption of sexual abuse re-affirmed in her that he cared for her, deeply - that he would be there for her. No matter what.
She shook her head. "No." And she closed her eyes at the memories. "But the threat was cruel enough."
Bill, losing the struggle against some stubborn tears, placed soft kisses onto her head. His arms wrapped around her form loose enough to allow her to breathe, but tight enough so she felt secure. He whispered onto her hair, his voice breaking and giving away his frame of mind. "Thank the Gods. Oh, thank the Gods."
They sat like that for a while. A bundle of shame protecting a bundle of sorrow. He tried to kiss away her painful memories, wishing he could make up for his misjudgment. The realization that she understood the necessity of his own opinion in the matter increased the ball of self-hatred that formed inside of him. She shouldn't be forgiving him. She shouldn't allow him to soothe her, to kiss her, to shed tears over her memories and his wrong-doing.
He felt how her body stiffened up again, her throat producing a sound of pain that made his skin crawl. It was a suppressed cry. One of her hands holding her head while the other one clang to him, seeking for steadiness and support. It was an attack. The cancer. He had seen her suffer through attacks like that before. It broke his heart to be so helpless. So he moved one arm under her legs, gathering her up in his embrace. He carried her over to his bed, lying her down. He left her for a moment to go to the dining table, pouring some of her Chamalla-enhanced tea into a cup. He returned to her, sitting down by her side, and handed her the tea. With her hands shaking so fiercely, Bill helped her guide the cup to her lips.
He looked at her. His concern and his regret visible in his eyes. "I'm sorry Laura." She closed her eyes, rubbing her neck, enjoying the feeling of her body relaxing to the drugs. "Don't be sorry, Bill. What's done is done. We can't change it anymore."
"How can you be so forgiving about this when I saw how hurt you were only a couple of moments ago?" He shook his head in disbelief.
Laura remained silent for a while. She merely looked at him, her eyes widened by the Chamalla, her mind wide awake. She studied his face, her right hand moving to his leg, caressing his thigh.
"I love you, Bill."
His breathing stopped.
Her hand cupped his face, slowly guiding him towards her, to meet him in a gentle kiss. He tried to move away from her after their kiss broke, but she started to caress his chest, placing soft kisses onto his cheeks and neck.
"Laura, don't.", he managed to whisper with a half steady voice.
She ignored him, unbuttoning the jacket of his uniform, continuing to kiss an exploring path down his neck.
"Laura." Bill tried to stop her. "We shouldn't."
"We shouldn't what, Bill?" she breathed seductively against his skin. "We shouldn't cease the moment? We shouldn't move on?"
He looked at her, choking down a smile that crawled up to his lips at the way she used his words against him now.
"We might regret it."
She chuckled. "No one's ever regretted making love to me. I don't intend you to be the first one."
He gasped, feeling her giggles merging with her kisses. This woman was unbelievable. "I didn't mean it that way." He moaned when her hands continued their tender journey. "You were just in so much pain…"
Laura smiled, her eyes alive and bright again, "I'm fine now, thank the God's for drugs…"
Bill's frown deepened even more, "That doesn't exactly fill me with confidence Laura… I wouldn't want to take advantage of the moment, the drugs..."
Her giggles grew stronger. "Oh Bill, I've been on Chamalla for a while now. I work while on Chamalla, it doesn't alter me THAT much." She caressed his cheek with soft fingers, her tone becoming more serious, "I will be drugged now for the rest of my days." Then she grinned, "And the last time we were both drugged we had a pretty good time, as far as I remember."
He smiled. It was a sad smile that grew into an aroused grin when she tugged at his belt. Laura pulled him into a lingering kiss, openly inviting him to drop his walls, to let her seduce him. "You aren't afraid of making love to a dying woman, are you, Bill?" She spoke those words with ease, without malice and without true anxiety. But those words pinched his heart, cutting into him like daggers. He tried to push the thoughts of her illness away, trying to cope with the present reality of her underneath his body, wanting him. Longing for him. "I don't see you as a dying woman. I see you as Laura Roslin. And I love you, Laura," he moaned as she offered her a passionate kiss.
"Then make me feel alive," she whispered in a deep hoarse voice. "I want to be alive now."
His eyes locked with hers for an intimate moment, tearing up together. He understood. And he started to return her caresses, her kisses, her moans, her sighs, matching her need to be one with him.
He unwrapped her from her clothes, carefully and patiently, grinning like a boy who got his dream present for Colonial Day. He caressed her with his eyes, trying to kiss the scars of her treatments away. Laura indulged in the tenderness of his touch. Her eyes closed, she whispered his name like a mantra to herself, enjoying every kiss he placed onto her skin, every goosebump that formed at the mixture of cold air in the room and his gentle hands on her body.
She opened her eyes again when he removed the last pieces of his garments, smiling at the slight hint of immaturity she believed to detect in his eyes. Her hands, instinctively reaching out to his chest, caressing the long scar in the middle of it. Moving up, she guided him next to her, allowing her lips to start exploring the contours of his body. She returned the tenderness he had begun to spoil her with, her mouth forming into a satisfied smile at the humming sound that escaped his throat, forming into her name. His eyes, locking with hers when she moved him onto his back just to nuzzle up on top of him within seconds. The feeling of the softness of her hair and skin was enough for him to get lost in the moment. And he repeated his love for her. The sound of his name on her lips sent pleasurable shivers down his spine, and he pulled her into an ardent kiss when he switched positions with her again.
Laura felt the pleasure washing over her in waves. The taste of herself on his lips when he kissed her, the sensation of his rejuvenating touch and the sound of his familiar voice triggered feelings of satisfaction and fulfillment to well up within her.
She moaned his name in a deep whisper when visions started to invade her mind. Visions of stars and planets, of rivers and grass, of fresh air on her skin and wind in her face. The sound of laughter in the distance of a walk, the feeling of comfort around her waist. A sun, shining so bright, birds singing in the trees and children playing in the fields. She turned around, shielding her eyes from the brightness of the light, looking up at him. His lips, meeting her for a deep kiss, forming into a smile when she wrapped her arms around him, cuddling up with him. There was no doubt in her heart, no fear, no pain. The world beautiful around them, and peaceful, her heart filled with happiness and love.
Laura snuggled up in his arms when he rested beside her, a joyful sparkle beaming from his exhausted eyes. He wrapped his arms around her, reaching for a blanket to warm them both. He placed soft kisses onto her hair while caressing her waist and hips, reassuring her of his love.
Laura smiled, returning his tender kisses, and drawing circles on his chest with her fingers. Her skin glowing, her eyes vivid, she raised her head to meet his gaze.
"I want you to remember me like that."
Bill looked at her, a knot forming in his stomach as her words sank in. He nodded, trying to push the feelings of uneasiness to the back of his mind. He forced himself to smile.
"So you want me to remember you all sweaty & exhausted?" he said playfully.
She giggled. "Yes. And happy."
He studied the content expression on her face for a moment, trying to imprint the pureness of her beauty in his mind.
Laura pulled him into a soothing kiss. "I've seen Earth."
Bill looked at her, puzzled.
"I had a vision." she continued.
He gave her a skeptical look, asking her for details without forming his question into words.
"I was home." She smiled. "With you."
He returned her smile. Although he wasn't a great believer in the Gods, the prophecies or her visions, he understood what it all meant for her. And he prayed for what it could mean for them if she was right.
The phone interrupted further exploration of the topic when it rang. He caressed her cheek, placing another soft kiss onto her lips before he climbed over her and out of his rack to answer the uninvited call.
"Yes." The Admiral paused. "So you fixed it." He nodded. "Good. Then jump to the coordinates." He shook his head while turning around to send a smile to her. "No, you don't have to wait for me. You know the procedures. I'll inform the President & we'll be on our way."
He hung up, crawling back to his bed, pulling her into a tight embrace.
"They fixed the power fluctuation and are ready to jump to the Ionian Nebula." He whispered onto her skin in between lazy kisses.
"So we should leave." Laura said with frustration.
"I'm afraid so." Bill growled, pulling her back to him when she tried to get up. "But allow me some time to inform you first. I intend to give you a full-length report about this nebula."
She giggled, pulling him into another longing kiss while escaping the tender grip of his arms. She swung her legs out of the bed, getting up for an instant before falling back on the bed again.
Bill, misinterpreting her actions from behind her, moved his hand around her waist, caressing her back. It was only a moment later that he realized that she wasn't feeling well.
Laura gasped and moved her shaking hand to her head, closing her eyes to fight a wave of nausea. She felt his hands on her skin when she fell back onto his sheets. She allowed him to steady her, her sharp intake of breath making him hold her more tightly.
The feeling of her blood pounding in her head, the pain working its way down to her eyes and teeth before it affected every single bone in her body. She tried to control the pain, not wanting to alarm him, but the intensity of the attack overwhelmed her, and she released a moan of agony.
Bill closed the small gap between their bodies, speaking to her with words she wasn't able to comprehend. She felt her body cramping up when the lights went out and they were enveloped by darkness.
"What the frak?" Bill hissed into the blackness. He moved the blanket around Laura's shoulders, trying to give her some comfort and reaching for the left-over tea on the nightstand.
Laura shook her head, waving him off, her head clearing up. "It's ok."
Bill moved around her, blinking his eyes to fully adjust to the darkness. He knelt before her, taking her hands in his, caressing them.
"What happened?"
She shrugged. "I don't know. I thought my head would explode, but it's better now." She met his eyes, mirror to his concerned soul. She smiled. "I'm fine, Bill. Really, I'm fine."
He looked at her, trying to find out if she was just trying to calm him down. But she looked fine. So he got up, holding out his hands to help her up as well.
They started to look for their clothes around his quarters, putting on the pieces they found. When the emergency lights switched on, Laura finished buttoning up her blouse, her hands moving to his to assist him with the jacket of his uniform.
He smiled at her, his one hand straightening down her hair while the other one held her close to him, resting on her hip. They shared another intimate kiss before she re-applied her lipstick and stepped back into her shoes.
They left his quarters as Admiral Adama and President Roslin. Their attitude of familiarity, respect and trust visible to everybody who was alert enough to recognize them when they rushed to CIC. They feared that anyone could detect an alteration in their behavior towards each other. But instead, eyes filled with concern & controlled anxiety bore into them. Oblivious to the fact that not only the renewed Cylon attack presented a change to the fleet, innumerable pairs of eyes looked for guidance and orders from the couple of power that had always been more than just the President and her Admiral.
Laura Roslin looked at Bill Adama with her best version of a professional mask when he yelled his orders to his staff. Her mind momentarily distracted by the thoughts of her peaceful vision and the feeling of his skin on hers. She turned her head when Tory approached her from the side, repeating the words Colonel Tigh had just said to her Admiral.
She wondered for a moment why they felt the urgency to renew their vows of commitment now, when another vision overcame her, and she understood.