Catalyst
SPOILER WARNING: spoilers for everything up through Maelstrom.
Review are like goody, goody gumdrops.
A/N: This is my first BSG fic. I haven't loved a pairing (Adama/Roslin) this much since Picard and Crusher.
Admiral William Adama stared at the smashed ship on the floor and cried harder. He felt as though his entire life was being smashed right before his eyes and there was nothing he could do about it. So many dead, so much lost and not a frakking thing he could do about it…
Adama ran his hands through his hair and sighed. He bent down and picked up the figure of the goddess Aurora that Starbuck had given him. He rolled it over and over in the palm of his hand. The gold glinted off the soft light almost giving the goddess the ethereal glow that she deserved. It was what she had deserved. His relationship with Kara had always been rocky and lately, it had been no different…but as he held the peace offering in his hand, he knew that it had been her way of making amends, telling him that things were right between them. The Admiral clutched the figurehead in his hand and let the tears fall again…
The knock on the hatch startled him. It was late and he knew that Saul was in the CIC taking care of the business at hand. The only other person that it could be was Lee., his son, who had also lost someone so precious to him.
"Come in," Bill said, wiping his face with the bottom of his undershirts and turning expecting to see the devastated face of his only remaining family, but Laura Roslin appeared instead.
She silently stepped through the hatch, searching for him in the dimly lit room. Finally, she found him and the tears that she had struggled to hold back flooded her soft eyes.
"I heard about..." she said, shutting the hatch and clearing her throat. "I heard about Captain Thrace."
"I asked Saul to let you know," he said, now a little embarrassed by the pieces of broken ship that lay at his feet.
"I came as soon as I could," she said, moving further into the room, seeing the shards of wood all around him, knowing what he had done. "Do we know what happened?"
The Admiral finally turned to look at her.
"We're not sure yet," he said, his voice betraying his simmering emotions.
Laura came a couple of steps closer. She knew that if she moved in too fast that he would run. He was like a wounded animal who didn't understand that all she wanted to do was help. Hell, she needed help herself.
"Is there anything I can do?" she asked, knowing the answer was no.
"No, Madame President. We should have a report some time tomorrow," Bill said formally, finally standing, his hands clasped in front of him.
"Bill…"
"Madame President, it's late, I'm sure the pilot who brought you over would like to get some sleep," he said, gesturing toward the door.
"I told him that I wouldn't be going back tonight," she said, almost whispering.
Laura took another tentative step forward, reaching her hand out to graze his bare forearm.
"Well, you know that you are welcome on my ship anytime," he said formally, looking at the spot on his arm that she had just touched.
"I know…one of your beds...," she said, smiling through the tears.
He returned her smile in spite of himself. The last thing he thought he would be doing tonight was flirting with the President of the Twelve Colonies. He had wanted to drown himself in alcohol and the memories of the young woman who was like a daughter to him. But as he looked at Laura, all he could think about was drowning himself in the beautiful woman in front of him. But she was the President…and alcohol was safer.
Bill turned and went to the cabinet that held the liquor. He poured himself a glass of the clear liquid the Chief had given him. He offered a glass to Laura who took the drink and downed it in one swig. The admiral's eyebrows arched and she smiled holding the glass out for a refill as she felt the fire water burn its way through her body.
"To Captain Thrace," she said holding the refilled glass up.
"To Kara," he said, touching his glass to hers.
"She was a hell of a pilot," Laura said, sitting on the couch and folding her legs under her all the while smoothing her skirt down.
"She was the best pilot I've ever seen. It was impossible not to care about her," he added, sitting on the other end of the couch.
"How's Lee?" Laura asked, finishing the second glass of the burning liquid, feeling her head swim just a bit and grateful for it.
"He's with Dee," Adama answered, finishing his own glass.
"That must be awkward, knowing how he felt about Kara, but at least he has her," she said, staring into his face.
"Yes," he agreed, knowing that her words meant more than what they appeared to say.
Laura took that moment to scoot over on the couch, wordlessly resting into his side. She laid her head against his shoulder and sighed. It felt so right to be in his arms again. The rise and fall of his chest and the beating of his heart was comforting and reassuring to her.
Laura slowly felt his arm slide around her shoulders, his warm hand on her arm. It was the most physically intimate they had been since New Caprica.
"This has to end tonight," he said sadly.
She didn't even look up at him. She knew what he meant. They had been flirting a great deal lately, taking solace in one another's presence. She spent more time on his ship than she should, just so she could be close to him.
"That's not possible," she whispered, her hand making a fist in his tanks.
"It has to," he said unemotionally. "I can't let what happened to Starbuck happen to you and I can't go through this again."
"Would it be any different? Would us cutting ourselves off from each other make it hurt any less?" she reasoned. He was trying to close the door again and she was fighting to keep it open. "I'd still care about you."
"It isn't appropriate," he answered, holding onto her just a little tighter.
"Nothing about this whole situation is appropriate, Bill," she answered, burrowing herself deeper into him. "But I knew since you came to find us on Kobol that this was bound to turn personal."
Bill's hand moved from her shoulder to her back, rubbing slow, wide circles over the fabric of her jacket.
"We can't afford to let our feelings interfere with who we are,' he said, his hand moving to her hair.
"We already have," she answered. "Do you really think that I would be sitting here with anybody else, letting him run his hands over me?"
"I don't know, maybe Tom Zarek," he answered.
Laura's head shot up and she glared at him.
"Not funny," she said, laying her head back on his chest.
"It's obvious that he has a thing for you," he said, this time seriously and with just a hint of jealousy.
She was silent for a moment. This was not surprising news to her, but she was kind of surprised that he noticed.
"I can't control that," she whispered.
"It's obvious every time he's in the same room with you," he said, his hand roaming down to where her waist and hip met.
"So you don't want me, but you don't want any one else to have me either?" she asked.
"Oh, I want you, and if the way I've been pawing you for the last five minutes doesn't tell you that then it definitely has been too long," he replied.
"It has been too long," she said laying a hand on his thigh. "Maybe I should go call Tom."
"Only if you're going to have him shipped over here so you can airlock him," he replied, enjoying the pattern she seemed to be tracing over and over on his leg.
Laura's laughter escaped her lips before she could stop it. It was chauvinistic for him to react this way, but sweet at the same time.
"So I guess I should embrace a new found vow of chastity?" she said, only half kidding.
"Celibacy's a bitch," he said, his fingers grazing the silky material of her shirt just beneath the hem of her jacket.
"Bill, would you like me to take off the jacket?" she asked, her head never leaving his chest.
"Yes, please," he begged, talking down his better angels.
Laura sat up on her knees on the couch and removed the jacket slowly. It was the most seductive thing she had ever done in his presence and from the look on his face, it worked. Still on her knees, she looked down and smiled at him. He wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her to him, his head resting at her breasts.
"Is this what you were talking about, when you said that this wasn't appropriate?" she asked, running a hand through his hair.
"No, but this is," he said, untucking her shirt from her skirt and raising the material just enough so that he could skim her skin with his fingers and plant a barely perceptible kiss on her stomach. "That was very inappropriate."
She looked down in his eyes, feeling her desire pulse over her entire body. His hands reached around her body and under her shirt to her back. He rubbed the warm, smooth skin, his fingers slipping underneath the clasp of her bra and then gently back down again to her waist. As Laura looked down, she could see his excitement and that turned her on even more. But, before she could respond, Bill pulled her legs out from under her and her back was on the couch. He was suspended over her, his arms supporting his upper body weight until he gently lowered himself down on top of her. His mouth hovered just above hers. He dipped his head and brushed his lips against her own, faintly reminiscent of the first kiss he had ever given her. Then more hungrily, Bill's mouth explored its new territory, leaving both of them breathless when he pulled away from her, looking into her eyes. She was right; it was too late not to care. It had been for a long time. It didn't matter if they ever consummated their relationship, it was still there. It would still kill him to lose her.
Adama got up off the couch and reached out for her hand. If he was going to do this, he was going to do it right. Laura took his hand, and he pulled her up and into his chest.
"You're right," he said, leading her to his bed.
"About what?" she asked, following him.
"Not doing this won't make me love you any less," he confessed, pulling off his tanks.
She smiled that smile she seemed to only reserve for him.
"Well, Sir, I concur with your assessment of the situation," she said, reaching around to unbutton her skirt, which fell to the floor. "And I love you too."
Roslin crawled into his bunk and lay back on the roll pillow. And he didn't need an invitation to follow.
The End.