Title: The Hardest Part

Author: Dallas

Disclaimer: Battlestar Galactica, and its characters, don't belong to me. Which kind of sucks, but I'm dealing with it.

Pairing: Roslin/Adama

Rating: Teen

Summary: Everything has a beginning and an end, and it's the end that can rip out your heart.

Galactica's morgue was less eerie than the rest of the ship. Maybe because she knew what a morgue was supposed to be like, and after three years she still wasn't comfortable with living on a ship. Laura sat in the corner, staring at the body that she dared not touch. It had taken days for her to even walk all the way to the morgue. Beginning the walk but always stopping short. Sometimes it had taken someone walking by to get her to even turn around and head back.

She bit her lip and shifted a little closer.

The body would be airlocked within the next twenty-four hours. It would be gone forever, just floating around in space. So very different to when she'd buried her mother. Then again, there was no telling what could have happened on Caprica after so long away. No, this was different.

"Laura," His gruff voice caught her attention, but she refuses to look away from the body. "Those damn marines are looking for you. You're not supposed to dodge people when you're walking around."

As he rested his hand on her shoulder she glanced up at him, unshed tears glistening in her eyes. "I wanted to be alone Jack…" She barely managed to whisper. It had been so long since she'd spoken, and it was surprisingly painful.

"You can't just crawl into your corner and go to sleep young lady," He told her softly.

There was so much to do. She had papers to sign and meetings to attend. The chaos of her career would always crossover into her life, ruining everything. "I was supposed to go first… that's the way it works. The odds were against me. I should be lying there. This is all wrong." She stood up slowly, stepping out of Jack's reach and further from the body. "This… this is wrong." Laura held her hand out, as if motioning for everything to stop would make it all go away. The back of her throat burned and she turned just in time to throw up in a small sink.

Cottle's hand brushed against her back, and another pair of hands pulled back her hair. "It's okay," He whispered against her ear. "Everything is going to be fine."

"Bill…" She croaked, coughing up the remains of her stomach contents.

In response he softly pressed a kiss against her temple. He turned on the tap and gently began to wash her mouth. "I would have come with you if you'd asked…"

"No," She shook her head, pushing his hand away. "I didn't exactly plan this." Taking a moment to compose herself, she stood up and looked into his eyes. Momentarily she wondered if she looked as old as he did, he seemed to have aged within the past few days.

He crouched slightly and picked her up in his arms before she could protest. No argument came, as she snuggled against him. "The body?" He glanced at Cottle.

"She'll be released in time for the service," Cottle paused, looking at Laura. "Lee has asked to escort her."

"Lee?" Bill paused, his hold on Laura tightening slightly. But he didn't question it further, simply nodded and continued out of the morgue.

Nobody dared to look at them as they passed through the hallways of Galactica. Some even took a moment to stop and lower their heads, respect for the dead and their leaders. It was quiet throughout the ship. It seemed with one death the entire crew was in mourning, although neither of them realised it was the same feeling throughout the fleet. Laura had fallen asleep in his arms by the time they reached his quarters. She was so tired, so drained, that he wasn't even sure how she'd made it all the way to the morgue without passing out. The marine guard opened the hatch for him, and Bill nodded in thanks. Without hesitation he moved to his rack and gently laid Laura down, covering her wait a blanket and pressing a kiss against her forehead.

She was well rested but still felt unnaturally drained. It was taking too much effort just to get dressed, and asking Bill for help was just frustrating her. They were quiet, just as the crew was. Yet their silence was more deafening than any other. He had tried to talk to her when she'd woken up, but it was no use. Laura didn't want to talk. She wanted to get it all over and done with and then disappear into oblivion. It had occurred to Bill that she may even try to airlock herself with the body, and he would do anything to make sure that didn't happen. It was hard enough to help her when she wasn't talking to him, and the thought of trying to stop her from doing something so drastic was overwhelming.

He gently ran the brush through her hair, copying the style he'd seen her create on so many occasions. The soft hair fell in layers over her shoulders and he ran his fingers through the loose curls running down her back. He loved her hair, the way it fell so beautifully. For a moment he paused, leaning forward to press a kiss against her neck.

At the feel of his lips on her neck, Laura's body became tense. She slowly took the brush from his hands and moved away, unable to look at him. There was a knock and she watched Bill move to the hatch. People were coming and going, it was the only thing that told her they were getting closer to the service. As Tory entered, she turned away. Maybe Bill had called her to help out. She didn't need everyone there to hold her hand. All Laura wanted was to be left alone, and nobody seemed to understand that.

"Everything's ready," Tory said quietly, she glanced over at Laura and wished she could hug her boss. "Lee's already headed to the morgue and he said he'll meet you at the service."

"Thank you Tory," Bill's gruff voice came out a little louder than he expected.

"Is Laura…?"

"You're welcome to try and talk to her," Bill motioned towards the rack where Laura sat brushing her hair. "She doesn't want anything to do with me."

"She needs time," Tory assured him. "I'll make sure she's ready to go."

Laura sat quietly, hearing every word they said. She was depressed, not deaf. It was just like teaching five year olds. They always seemed to believe they couldn't be heard whispering to their friends, no matter how loud they were. She held out the brush as Tory got closer, making it painstakingly obvious that she was not about to open her heart to the aide. It only took a moment for Tory to pick up her cue and continue brushing Laura's hair.

"We have to be there in half an hour," Bill told them as he shrugged on the jacket of his dress uniform.

Out of habit Laura stood up and moved towards him, ignoring Tory's protests. Her hands ran along his shoulders, smoothing out the few creases in the material. "I would like to go now," She told him simply.

Again her eyes refused to meet his.