A/N
Just a little light-hearted story. Too much darkness now-a-days (not that i don't absolutely frakking love the episodes!!)
They're probably out of character, but to be honest .... Bill doing anything other than the Adama glare and I-love-Laura look is out of character ;)
Disclaimer : Characters are not mine, settings are not mine. They all (well the NEW BSG 2003) belong to Ronald D Moore, the frakking genius!
Admiral William Adama was never one to be surprised easily. He more than showed this look of disinterest in CIC when his XO, Saul Tigh, alerted him to the prescence of a cylon basestar or some other threat to humanity. He didn't raise an eyebrow, didn't gasp, didn't even blink most of the time. He took the information with a silent resignation, his expression never slipping. For a long time, people thought him to be made out of stone. They expected him to return to his quarters after his shift in CIC and sit down, his face still a perfect mask, a blank slate. He would sleep like it, eat like it, get ready like it and then he would be off again, just the same as the day before. Nothing had ever caused him to publicly display any signs of amusement or surprise. So it came as a great shock to the crew passing by when they spotted him sporting a smile. Not just a fixed smile, one that he would have to wear as a polite response to a joke, but a true, genuine smile.
The corners of his mouth were turned up and his face seemed to glow with amusement. No-one knew what he had just heard, just him. Bill walked faster, hoping to reach his quarters before an even bigger smile threatened to break out on his face. The crew probably thought that the pressure had got to him, that he had snapped and gone mad, but he didn't care. With a nod to the marines outside, Bill pulled open the hatch and let himself in. He was within the confines of his home. Relief washed through him and the earlier thoughts that had caused this sudden burst of amusement pushed themselves to the forefront of his mind. He let his stoic facade slip and burst into deep laughter. To think, all of this because of a stupid conversation he had overheard between two knuckledraggers.
....
It was earlier that day when Saul Tigh had caught up with him in the corridor, breaking Bill's chain of thoughts about strategies, resources and fuel supplies.
"Admiral." Tigh said formally, falling into step alongside him.
"Colonel." Adama acknowledged him but carried on walking. Tigh slowly brought a clipboard out from behind his back, one that was stacked with reports. Adama let out a long exhale and held his hand out to take the clipboard. Sometimes, work seemed to catch up with you everywhere. He couldn't have a stroll down the corridor without paperwork it seemed. His XO seemed to see the resignation in him and slowly brought his arm back down, clasping the clipboard at his side.
"Nothing that can't be handled when you're next in CIC." He muttered gruffly, staring straight ahead as they walked.
"Thankyou," Bill replied, "anything urgent that needs my attention?"
Tigh sighed. If he said no, he knew that the Admiral would still somehow find something to occupy his time. He seemed tired and frustrated, but Tigh couldn't find a way to help him. No matter how many times Saul had told him to get some rest or to just have a day off in his quarters, Adama had refused and somehow managed to attract some sort of trouble. Admittedly, the cylons appearing wasn't directly the Admiral's fault, but he just didn't want to seem to lose any time just relaxing. Tigh couldn't remember the last time he'd seen his friend even smile these days.
"Colonel Tigh?"
"Huh?" Tigh turned his attention back to Adama.
"I asked," Bill reiterated, slightly annoyed at his XO's straying mind, "is there anything urgent that needs my attention?"
Tigh looked down at his clipboard, flicking through the reports.
"Chief Tyrol wants to know what your orders are about the Faru Sadin FTL problem. He needs to know whether you want any of his men overseeing the repairs."
"FTL problems," Bill processed the information, "I think the engineers will be able to handle it."
"I'll send word to him and tell him your decision." Tigh said, slowing his pace to a stop.
"No." Adama stated, also coming to a halt. He turned around, looking at his XO.
"No?"
"I'll tell him myself. I could use the walk."
"Yessir." Tigh saluted him, before turning away and heading towards CIC.
Bill pinched the bridge of his nose and grimaced. He felt a headache slowly pushing to the front of his mind. The walk would do him good, he decided. It would allow him time to relax, to think happy thoughts maybe. He didn't want to go into CIC coiled so tightly. He needed something, anything to help him calm down.
His walk to the Hangar Bay was slow and methodical. With every step he let out a steady breath, and he felt his head clearing of all the issues, urgent notices and grim thoughts that he was harbouring. Bill stepped onto the deck, but stopped short when he heard the loud voices of two knuckledraggers, trying to be heard over the distant drills and repairs of the viper and raptors.
"-I'm not fixing his Viper! this is the fifth time this week!"
"It's not an option! Hotdog needs his viper, and it's our job to fix it!"
"Everytime he goes out in it, i'm the one who has to put it back together again. I'm sick of it! Can't someone say something to him!?"
"So, what? you wanna start picking and choosing what birds we repair now?"
"What harm would it do!? It sure as hell would teach Hotdog to learn how to land!"
"Have you seen the Admiral lately!? Imagine how pleased he would be that only half a CAP is flying. Imagine the President's reaction when she finds out that Galactica can't sufficiently defend the frakking fleet!"
"Whoa! easy! I get it! Ma and Pa Galactica would be annoyed! Geez!"
"Ma and Pa Galactica wouldn't hesitate to put you out of the airlock if you get half-arsed when doing your job, don't you forget that!"
"Fine! But the next time Hotdog brings his bird back in pieces-"
"-i'll do the repairs! Now get back to work!"
Adama stood still, firmly rooted to the spot. Something about that conversation had struck a chord deep inside him and had left him stunned.
Ma and Pa Galactica.
They had used that term, twice. Ma and Pa Galactica. It was something so insignificant, so small and stupid, but it had made an impression. The nickname was imprinted in his mind and as he thought of it, he could picture himself and Laura Roslin, parents to the fleet.
Without warning, his lips curled into a smile, small at first but everytime the nickname echoed in his mind, it grew. It was an exhilirating feeling, all doubts, all thoughts about the Galactica and the fleet, vanished without a trace. All he could think of was Ma and Pa Galactica. Inspiration struck him and Bill felt his feet start moving without his knowledge.
He had to tell the President about this.
....
Bill picked up the phone in his quarters, managing to supress his amusement. The familiar click greeted him, and a cold voice answered.
"President's office, Tory Foster speaking."
"I need to speak to the President." Adama said shortly, not at all surprised by who had answered. Tory Foster, super aide. She seemed to recognise who it was calling, because her voice seemed to lose it's frostiness as she replied.
"Connecting you to her office now, Admiral."
"Thankyou." He waited patiently to be connected, his thoughts constantly returning to the conversation between the two Knuckledraggers. He stifled his laughter once more, concentrating on keep his voice straight. It wasn't even that funny really, he knew that. Laura Roslin would probably breeze over it, confused at his reaction to such a stupid little thing. What she probably wouldn't understand is that it was the first thing in a long time that had caught Bill completely by surprise. In amongst all the fighting, the loss of lives, the continuous bad luck they seemed to be having, the crew still had time to have a laugh, make up stupid names. He felt slightly jealous about it really. Still, if it made them work, then he was more than happy to accomodate the names.
"Hello Admiral. It's good to hear from you."
Laura Roslin's voice was warm, filled with honesty. Adama's experience allowed him to pick up the traces of fatigue aswell, though. Well, he thought, maybe my story can cheer her up.
"It's good to hear your voice," Bill replied, with equal honesty. He found he couldn't go longer than a day without hearing from her or seeing her, "how have you been?"
"Since yesterday when you last called me? I'm fine. What can i do for you?"
"Nothing urgent so don't get worked up." He detected the worry in her last sentence.
"Nothing urgent? now there is something you don't hear every day," he heard her sigh, "are you sure there isn't something wrong, Bill? You sound different."
"Well," he said slowly, "i feel different. I feel good."
"Admiral Adama," her voice was filled with mock-authority. He could imagine her on the other end of the phone, smiling wryly, "are you hiding some sort of hallucenagenic drug that i don't know about?"
He let out a short burst of laughter.
"No," Bill replied, rubbing his face with his free hand, "nothing like that."
"Shame," there was real disappointment in her voice, "I could do with a pick-me-up. Tory's got me signing so many reports i feel like my hand is going to fall off."
"Maybe i could cheer you up." He threw the bait out there, and now sat back in his chair, waiting patiently to reel her in.
She paused for a moment, and Bill could almost see her face, confused by his weird mood and mysterious sentences.
"I can spare a few minutes for this miracle cure. Go ahead."
Bingo.
"I was in the Hangar Bay, looking for Chief Tyrol," Bill explained patiently, his voice low as usual, "and i overheard two Specialists arguing."
"Bill, if this is the story, then you're doing wonders at sending me to sleep."
He ignored her and carried on.
"They were arguing about who was next to fix a viper. One of them told the other one to think of our reactions to them not doing their jobs properly."
"And ...?"
"Congratulations, Laura. You're a mother."
There was silence on the other end of the phone for a few seconds, before Laura spoke up again, impatient.
"If there is a point to that comment, please feel free to make it."
"They called us 'Ma and Pa Galactica'." He waited for the nickname to sink in. Maybe she wouldn't find it funny, maybe she would scold him for wasting precious minutes of her time with something so utterly stupid. A slight anxiety built up, but when he imagined her scolding him, it was all he could do not to laugh out loud. Ma Galactica indeed.
"Ma and Pa Galactica?" She finally asked, and Bill could pick up something in her tone, but he couldn't quite put his finger on what it was.
"Parents to the fleet."
More silence, but this time he didn't have to wait as long. After a few seconds, he heard laughter on the other end of the line. He hadn't heard that laugh since New Caprica, when he was singing softly to her in his dreadful voice. It was uncontrolled, pure laughter. A lovely sound, he decided, something he could get used to. When she finally managed to form words, they were forced out between steady breaths.
"Parents to the fleet? Parents to about 41,000 people?"
"I feel so old." Bill replied, smiling warmly. He was elated that he had managed to cheer her up.
"Well for 41,000 children, you don't look old." Her voice was thick with amusement.
"For 41,000 children you look good too." Bill said earnestly. Once again, he could almost picture her dazzling smile.
"For that many children, Bill," She replied playfully, "I feel good."
Bill joined in her laughter and it continued for a few minutes, both of them too overcome with the pure humour of the situation. Parents to the fleet, he could only laugh more at the thought.
"These two Specialists," Laura said, regaining her breath after a while, "did they say anything else?"
"To be honest, Laura, i didn't stick around for the rest."
"Hmmm." Laura hummed down the phone, obviously deep in thought.
"What's on your mind?"
"I'm thinking ... that if we ever have another feud, then who would get custody?"
Bill chuckled, picturing them both in court, arguing over how to divide the many thousands of people. The judge would be distressed, head in his hands while both Laura and Bill argued until they were blue in the face, before grudgingly accepting about 21,000 each.
"You know," Laura interrupted his daydream, "If the Quorum are our children, then i am more than happy just to see them on weekends."
Once again, all that could be heard was laughter, from both the President and the Admiral, as they continued on their conversation about the nickname.
....
"Colonel Tigh, sir." The marine outside Bill's quarters saluted the XO, his eyes straight ahead.
"Is the Old Man busy?" Tigh asked, his ears picking up noises coming from behind the hatch.
"I think he's on the phone to President Roslin, sir. Would you like me to bring you to his attention?"
Tigh listened more intently and picked up the sound of Bill's deep laughter. What the frak had caused such a change in him since this morning? He had only gone down to the Hangar Bay, what sudden epiphany did he have to cause him to laugh and (according to confused crew members) smile?
Saul decided resolutely not to dwell on what it was, instead turning back to the marine.
"No need. I'll drop by later, Looks like Ma and Pa Galactica are discussing something ... important."
With that, Tigh walked back down the corridor towards CIC, none the wiser as to why the Admiral was in such a strange mood.
A/N
You know the drill, review if you want :)