Title: Bill and Laura Read Atonement (a very meta fanfic)
Author: miabicicletta
Pairing: A/R
Rating: PG-13 (though barely)
Setting: Post NC. Pre Crossroads.
Summary: Bill and Laura discuss a novel (a sexy, tragic novel).
Wordcount: ~1,700
Disclaimer: Not mine, though I wish they were.
Authors Note: This snuck up on me today. Will make the most sense for those who have read or watched Atonement by Ian McEwan. It will have particular resonance for those of you who read and write fanfic. Two variations on the theme: Boy meets girl. Boy and girl fall in love. Tragedy ensues.
Concrit: Welcome
Spoilers: For the ending of the novel. Seriously big spoilers.
The Admiral was grateful the day had ended, even more so that it had concluded after a meeting with the President in his quarters. It was late, and he knew Laura well enough to recognize that she appreciated the familiarity she found here. Her comfort was his comfort. Plus it made for more cheerful discussion when she could take her heels off.
"I have to ask," Bill began, rising from his desk. "Did you finish the book?"
Laura looked up from her perch on the couch. "No, I have the last chapter left. I've been savoring it. You were right - it's a gorgeous read."
"You should finish it."
"I will, tonight most likely."
"I meant now."
"Now?" She raised one eyebrow at him, surprise registering on her face.
"I'm curious to see your reaction."
Laura smirked, looking over the frames of her glasses. "Interesting. Your curiosity has me curious, Admiral."
Her tone was light, and for a moment he figured she would tease him a little and ignore his request. Instead she acquiesced, removing the book from her bag before curling her feet under her and settling back into the worn leather. It both thrilled and grieved him to hear her sighs of contentment, such deep appreciation they had for such small moments of respite.
This had become their tradition. A brief interlude at the end of their days when fleet and civilian matters were brushed aside, if only for a moment. He'd leant her a book from his collection: the most recent novel from a well-respected though commercially unknown writer. It had been released a few years before the fall, becoming something of an instant classic. Laura had never read it.
Bill rose to fix them each a drink from the service cart. A few minutes passed as she read, the easy silence between them punctuated only by the clinking of glass and gentle rasp of turning pages.
He studied her in the low light. The hollowing expanse of skin below her cheekbone. Delicate curves of her ear, fine and pink, like a seashell. Red hair, longer than she'd kept it before New Caprica. Wilder now, like they all were.
He returned to the living area, and set the drinks down on the table, taking a seat next to her. From the text he could tell she was on the last page.
"Oh my gods..." Laura sat up a little, eyes widening at the words before her. He watched her eyes, no longer languidly absorbing words at her leisure but instead furiously flicking over the final paragraphs.
"Good twist, huh?"
She closed the book and shook her head, visibly crushed.
"Their reunion after the war, finally starting their lives together...none of it was real. The narrator made it all up. She wrote the happy ending her sister and her lover couldn't have when they were alive."
"To assuage her own guilt. Having a man's innocence on your conscience weighs heavy on the soul. Took her a lifetime to find a way to ease the pain of having told the lie that sent him away."
"Ruining all those lives in the process. To have waited so long for each other..." She trailed off, gesturing vaguely with her hand.
"That's the thing about a lie: little things can do untold damage. Hers broke hearts, ended lives."
"The truth is so cruel. I think I prefer the fiction."
"Even though it was all made up? None of it happened?"
"Writing a book doesn't stop truth from being true, Bill. No more so than words could have saved Robbie from the infection he died of or stopped the bombs from falling over Cecilia's transport. Sometimes the lie is the kinder thing, in the end. Even if they never got their cottage in the picture he kept, even if they never made up for all the time that was stolen from them, in the sister's story, they have the chances that fate snatched away. She waits for him; he marries her. They get their cottage by the sea. Life and hope, and all the things young lovers are supposed to be full of."
"Not everyone gets the happy ending, Laura." He studied the ice in his glass. When she didn't answer immediately, he chanced to lift his gaze. She was looking at him.
"I think that's the point, Bill."
The silence between them felt heavy with meaning, subjects and circumstance shifting like smoke, all hazy and still somewhat uncertain despite the clarity of his feelings.
"Still...they only had one night before he was sent to prison. Can that really be enough?" Laura wondered. "Is that really love? Can a person you've only just allowed into your life really be worth sacrificing everything else for?"
"Cecilia believed it. She couldn't abide the fact her family could so swiftly turn their back on a man they once saw as another son. Takes guts to make that kind of choice."
"Seems reckless." Laura said quietly, sipping her drink.
"It's that, too. The heart, as they say, knows reasons that reason knows nothing of."
She smiled, fixing him with the full force of her amusement. "Bill Adama, no one says that."
"Read it in a book somewhere. Must be true."
"An admiral and a philosopher, " she mused, her head cocked to the side, considering him. "So you'd throw it all away for love, huh?"
"Yeah, I suppose I would."
Laura's mouth twitched as she removed her glasses. She reached forward to set them on the table, giving him a fine view down her shirt, one more button undone than earlier in the day. "Must be quite the lady." She shifted closer towards him on the couch, leaning against his solid frame and took another sip of her drink.
He chuckled. "She's grown on me, that's for sure."
Laura drew a lazy pattern on the sleeve of his uniform with her index finger. Despite the nature of their discussion - doomed love, the endless tides of human suffering- she was in a playful mood tonight.
"You know, I quite enjoyed the library scene."
"Yeah?"
"It was beautiful, and innocent, really. Very well written. There was one bit I especially liked..." She retrieved the book, and thumbed through to find the page. "Ah, here." She began to read:
'At last they were strangers, their past were forgotten. They were also strangers to themselves who had forgotten who or where they were. The library door was thick and none of the ordinary sounds that might have reminded them, might have held them back could reach them. They were beyond the present, outside of time, with no memories and no future.'
He had to admit, it was a nice sentiment. To be outside of time, free from the burdens of position. A dream.
"You know," Laura said deliberately, "As romantic and tragic they are, I don't much care for young lovers."
"Works out well for me."
She giggled in that very Laura way of hers, and he wrapped his arm around her, pulling her close. He could feel her warm breath, her mouth close to his, alluring and impossible to turn from.
"Yes, sir, it does."
She kissed him and it was like the first time, all over again. He could never get used to the wonder of it, being desired by this strange and mirthful creature with legs that didn't quit. She was miraculous. She was a pain in the ass. She was his president and a friend above it all. The first time she'd slept in his arms, even his old, atheist's soul had come close to extolling the many virtues of the gods. Her every heartbeat had been a miracle he could feel, every tickling breath bringing him closer to grace unknown.
"Anything else you like about that library scene?"
"Well, there is the part where he fraks her beyond coherent thought and command of language up against the shelves..."
Bill kissed her again, running his fingers along the curve of her spine, finding her warm and pliant in his hands.
"Impossible." He murmered his dissent against her lips.
"I have faith in you, Admiral. And your bookshelves." She kissed her way down his neck, each a promise of the night to come.
"Shelves I've got; it's the other part that's impossible," Bill said,
"What part is that?" Laura asked. A kiss, and he felt her nimble hands unfastening the buttons on his jacket. Another, and he made quick work of her shirt.
"Making you speechless."
She laughed openly at that. He did too. Not everyone gets the fairy tale ending, Bill thought as he scooped a still-laughing Laura up in his arms and carried her off to attempt acts of the youthful and reckless. Most days it was difficult to believe in a future at all, let alone one full of brightness and possibility.
At the moment he didn't much care about anything apart from undressing the mischievous woman in his arms to the point where that slow, crooked grin was all she wore.
Life was cruel. Fate was fickle. As long as there was time enough for loving Laura, he could make do with everything else it was besides.