Title: Intuition
Author: Rina
Summary: She needed this time alone in a quiet place to process, to evaluate, to figure out how she was ever going to break this to him and not break him while she did.
Disclaimer: Battlestar Galactica and its characters are property of Universal Studios and Ron D. Moore. This story is for entertainment purposes only. I make no profit from writing or sharing this.
A/N: Originally finished in 2012 and posted to bsg_epics for a friendly competition to see who could produce the most comment ficlets for their pairing(s).
Bill was still on duty when Laura entered his quarters. For this, she was immensely grateful. She needed this time alone in a quiet place to process, to evaluate, to figure out how she was ever going to break this to him and not break him while she did.
Carelessly tossing her briefcase on the table, she flopped down on the sofa without any sort of grace and buried her face in her hands.
This was it. The gods had not granted her any kind of a merciful miracle but merely a brief reprieve from a fate she could not escape. Cottle hadn't even needed to say the words to her when he'd called her into his office. The diagnosis and prognosis was written in eyes that almost couldn't bear to look at her, broadcast across the resigned droop of his shoulders as he uttered words she didn't really hear. The cancer came back.
Sitting up straighter, she unbuttoned her jacket, then the first few buttons of her blouse. She placed her hand on the infected breast and shook her head. A suffocating knot of panic formed in her chest, shortened her already unsteady breaths, and she felt the sting of tears that starting to form.
She wouldn't cry. Not now, she told herself as she gasped a few gulps of air, attempted to ease her tension.
This all happened before but it was different this time. Three years ago, it was easier. She had no attachments, save for perhaps Billy. It was just her and little else to tie her so emotionally to this existence. Just a drive to get her people to a safe haven, even if it came at the most personal of costs to herself.
This time she had a dear friend and occasional lover in Bill, along with the nebulous idea that, under different circumstances, something deeper and profound could have happened between them. And while she couldn't quite put a name to how she felt for him, she knew that he could, that he felt more deeply than he'd ever voice aloud to her.
The thought of that both terrified her and yet made her want to protect him from herself, protect from having him see the deterioration of her body and soul that would happen when she started treatment. She didn't want him to have to see her like that.
Unbidden, the thought of her mother and the swift progression of her own cancer entered her mind. With that suddenly in mind, she couldn't bear to sit still any longer and sprang up from the sofa to begin pacing the room, trying to shake the images of her mother fading away before her eyes.
The pacing did nothing to expel the nervous energy buzzing within her. She entered the bathroom and forced herself to study her reflection. Outwardly, there was nothing to indicate the turmoil her body was going through. She ran her hands through her hair and shuddered as she thought of the treatments available to her.
Chamalla and diloxin. Both came with side effects that were unsavory. The chamalla with it's hallucinogenic properties that blurred the line between reality and the fantastical, and the diloxin that would leave her constantly cold, nauseous, rob her of her hair and dignity. A bitter part of her wondered if there really was any point in bothering with either or both, even if only to buy herself a little more time to finish business. Instinctively, she felt that this time it would be a battle she would ultimately lose.
She sighed, straightened out her disheveled clothes, buttoned up her blazer, and moved to smooth the wayward strands of her hair.
She retreated to this space in order to try and come to terms with this, but she didn't want to deal with it right now after all. What she needed was more time to collect herself in a space that did feel so personal to her. She'd figure out how to proceed when her emotions weren't so raw.
With one more glance at the mirror, she made sure she presented a fit enough picture to head back to the raptor and onward to Colonial One without drawing concern.
Just as she picked up the briefcase, the hatch swung open, and with that, all her fears bubbled to the surface as Bill stepped over the threshold of his quarters. He only took one look at her panic-stricken face and stiff posture, and instantly, he looked concerned.
He had an uncanny ability to read her all too well; she knew wouldn't be able to leave without telling him.
She still had no idea how to do so.