A/N: I wrote this a while ago and I think it's still up on Survival Instinct, but for some reason I never put it here and now I am. /cool story bro.
We Stumble in the Dark
Bill shut the hatch of his quarters with a weary sigh. He plucked off his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose, every limb heavy as though filled with sand.
"Long day?"
The two words, chimed from an armchair in the dim light, set his heart racing—the startled pulsing, however, quickly turned into light fluttering, pleasantly uncomfortable, for that familiar voice in the dark was the brightest part of his day.
"You could say that again," he said, crossing the room and sinking into the other chair beside Laura. "You?"
"Well, I'm not taking orders from Baltar, so my troubles pale in comparison to yours," she said dryly.
"I've spent all day organising our permanent settlement on that rock of mud called New Caprica," he spat, the words bitter on his tongue. As he spoke, Laura pushed herself out of her chair and went to pour him a drink. "I don't want to think about it anymore. Tell me about your day."
She drew in a breath and brought him the drink; the amber liquid swirled in the glass as she stepped over to him.
"I've been busy," she said, handing him the glass and smiling briefly at his murmured thanks, "sorting and packing and doing some organising of my own."
Adama frowned into his drink. Laura still stood, backlit; her hair in the dark had a dusty glow.
"Don't you mean unpacking?" he asked quietly, almost afraid of her answer.
"I'm grateful for the use of your guest quarters, Admiral, but I won't become a permanent bother to you," she said, hardened, hands in pockets.
"You're not serious." It was not a question. It was a statement of his bewilderment, his pain.
"I can make myself useful on the surface," she countered. She shifted her weight from one foot to the other. "What would I do up here? Sweep?"
She didn't hesitate. Her words were clean-cut and sharp, and he knew she had more arguments lined up in her beautiful brain. He drained his glass.
"I won't try to talk you out of it," he said, standing up and meeting her gaze evenly.
"But?"
"But I'm afraid you'll regret it."
The corners of her mouth twitched slightly, as though he had surprised her. She twisted her head, angling her face away but keeping her eyes on his.
"We'll see," she said simply.
She moved towards the hatch, and he was losing her, as he had lost her in a bleak, sterile corner of sick bay to the dark circles around her eyes and the tumour in her breast, as he had lost her in the coldness of space to the dense, damp forests of Kobol, as he had lost her in a crowd (and found her, sitting alone with a drink, moving shyly to the beat of the music, back and forth).
"Laura," he called.
She stopped and turned. He could barely see her; her eyes were hidden by a glare of light on her glasses. Would she stay if he asked her?
"I'll miss you."
He had finally dented that cold, determined stubbornness of hers. She let a little smile bubble up.
"I'll see you soon," she said.
She opened the hatch, and then she was gone.
