A/N: I know there are a million of these already, but dialogue is overrated. Almost time for the next ep! Please review. It's the End of the Line
Disclaimer: Ron Moore and his writing buddies are Gods. I'm just a lowly human (or cylon, 'cause really, who's counting anymore?) so I don't own any of this stuff.
Another lie. Another speech. Another promise of home.
His duty fell away. He felt bone-weary, as the alcohol, the pressure, and the despair caught up with him. His steps were heavy. But he had one more thing to do. Not a duty, or a responsibility; a need. She was his strength.
He stumbled while pulling the hatch open, the weight and his drunkenness taking their toll. Inside was brightness, and Laura in the middle of the floor curled up on a thin rug. She was unresponsive as he dropped to his knees behind her, as he said her name, as he touched her cautiously. His hands gripped her shoulder and her arm, needing her, needing a sign of life from her.
He pulled her closer; there were no words to say. She never moved. The floor was cold and unforgiving. He removed one of his arms from around her shoulders to support her knees, pushed up on one leg, wobbled, and stood. Slowly, one step at a time. Through the hatch, up the steps, through the hatch; home. He laid her down in his rack. Hesitated and saw her blank stare at the wall; he kicked off his boots and carefully lay down behind her. Holding her in his arms, he prayed his best would be enough to save her from this sorrow.
Fine
