Disclaimer: These characters belong to Ron D. Moore. I am sure he won't mind if I borrow them for a while. No copyright infringement intended.

Inhale

"I never actually thought they'd shoot him!" Ellen said, her hair bouncing energetically around her face. She was standing in front of what appeared to be a highly dysfunctional kitchen. There was a low, metal counter sitting atop a long row of plain metal cabinets. No oven. No refrigerator. A small sink sat in the middle of the expansive chrome. Colonel Tigh leaned heavily against the counter, arms crossed in front of him. Laura Roslin and Bill Adama stood facing them. Both looked extraordinarily tired.

"So you let him take the blame?" Laura took a step in Ellen's direction. Bill's hand came to rest on her shoulder. A gentle restraint.

"Well, I wouldn't exactly call it that." Ellen let out a light laugh, glancing at the floor. "It was just a simple misunderstanding."

A dark streak stained the concrete, slightly faded from years of treading feet, but visible nonetheless. Laura had been staring at the mark just moments before they brought in the body. Comforting, she had thought. Proof that life had been here. The morgue. She shivered. The metallic walls seemed to suck all warmth from the air. Laura could barely breathe.

"A simple misunderstanding?" Her voice, barely above a whisper, was tinged with a controlled rage. Laura's rigid body seemed out of place standing in front of Ellen's languid form. A little too much ambrosia on the ride back, she had thought to herself when Ellen first stepped off the raptor from Cloud Nine.

"A simple MISUNDERSTANDING?" She was breathing heavily now.

"Laura," Bill said, taking a step toward her.

"HE DIED BECAUSE OF YOU. DON'T YOU UNDERSTAND THAT?" She launched. Her hands poised to clench themselves around Ellen's neck. Ellen shrieked, stumbling back.

Bill's reaction was instantaneous. His solid arm reached across Laura's middle, pulling her back. Laura's body doubled over from the force. In one swift motion, Bill hoisted her from the ground, spinning 180 degrees. He set her down lightly. Laura moved away from the group toward the opposite wall.

"It really wasn't my fault," Ellen crooned from behind them.

"Saul," Bill's voice was sharp. "Get her the frak out of here."

Tigh sprung into action, forcefully pulling Ellen toward the hatch door. Her frenzied pleas of explanation danced around the room long after they had gone.

Laura felt as if her lungs were deflating. Fibers compressing, one on top of the other, pushing her further down. Down, down, down. Her right hand pressed against the metal wall beside her, feeling for a trap door, some long forgotten escape route.

"Laura." The rumble of Bill's voice shook her entire body. Inhale. It was soft, but irrevocably steady.

"She killed him." She pushed harder against the wall.

"Laura." His hand grazed her back.

"SHE KILLED HIM." The scream echoed around the room. Gods, it even feels like a coffin. "HE WASN'T SUPPOSED TO DIE." She had pitched herself from the wall and was now facing Bill. "He wasn't supposed to die." The words barely reached her lips. Tears trickled down her flushed cheeks leaving behind a series of wet trails that shined brightly under the fluorescent lights. Laura felt Bill's hands on her shoulders. They were pulling her toward him. "No, no, no." She reached out a hand to stop him, attempting to brace herself against his hard chest. No, no, no.

The force was so strong. Suddenly, the arm that had been pushing away bent, and her body fell forward. Her head hit first, softly colliding with a cold, brass button. The rest of her soon followed. She could feel it everywhere. Something strong. Her arms, as if traveling on their own accord, reached around, desperately attempting to pull it closer. She wanted closer. She needed closer.

Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale.

For a second, she didn't know where she was. Everything seemed grey and fuzzy. There was no noise, except for the drip, drip…drip. Was that water? Thirsty. She was somewhere with water and a…sink. Water and a sink. But there was something else, something softer than the sound of the dripping water. Breathing. Inhale. Exhale. Someone was breathing.

Every sense in her body heightened. She felt the old, old concrete pushing up against her flexed toes. She felt the still air of a battlestar, settling around her. She felt something resting lightly against her head. A hand. Whose hand? Another one was pressed against her back. No. It was more than that. It was everywhere, encompassing her entire body. Body against body.

Bodies. Billy. Oh gods. Billy was dead. Oh gods. She couldn't bear to look. She couldn't bear to open her eyes and meet the ghostly sheet. Billy. The pressure was so strong now. It held her firmly in place. She wanted nothing more than to escape. Escape this fraking ship. She wanted to be alone. Just Laura. But, she also wanted to stay. She wanted to stay here forever, her body seamlessly wrapped against another. Breathing.

Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale.

"Bill."