Disclosure: I do not own BSG, or any of its characters, yet they live on in my heart... SO SAY WE ALL!
A/N: Who doesn't remember the epic scene between Bill & Laura, as they had words regarding Starbuck's return- and then Laura beginning to lose her hair?! I urge all of you who have the series on DVD to watch the deleted scenes from Season 4 episode "Six Of One", to see an adorable moment when Bill asks Tyrol for a flight suit... priceless! This story is rated T, but gets a little bit of an M at one point. Please see my further comments at the end of this story, and thank you for reading, as always!
William Adama needed to clear his head.
Like it or not, she was still there. In fact, they both were. The two women in his life- Laura Roslin, and Kara Thrace.
There wasn't anything Bill could do about Laura. Not now. Not with the wounds too open and raw, such as they were.
As fights went, their recent exchange of words had even surpassed the time in which he threw her in the brig. Back then, they had only been entwined professionally. Not romantically, like they were now.
Bill could've blamed his loose lips on the alcohol, but didn't. That was all on him. A day and a half had passed, and Laura had yet to look in his direction, much less speak. Her quiet, non-shed tears were well enough payback. Everything they'd said to each other- about miracles and faith, living and dying, had all been completely true. Which was exactly why it hurt so bad.
Perhaps if he started with Kara- the daughter of his heart, and root cause of all their recent trauma, he could find some way to fix things with his lover.
And so he sat in the cockpit of Starbuck's Mark II, hoping that by taking her plane out for a run, he could better understand what the young female pilot was going through.
Either that, or he just wanted to kill himself.
Getting his hands on a flight suit to fit him, proved easier than Bill thought.
The uniform, originally intended as a gag gift by the flight crew for his son, Lee- during his less than svelte period following his days of commander of the ill-fated Pegasus, had never actually been worn. That is, until Chief Tyrol gamely dragged it out of the supply room and presented it to his CO.
Coming out of the launch tube, Bill was taken back to the heady days of his youth as a cocky-ass Viper jock. The rush of adrenaline, combined with the lingering effects of his recent hangover, made him feel as though he'd left his stomach- and several other vital organs, still on the hangar deck.
While technically the same model he flew back in the First Cylon War, a few instrument modifications had been made to the bird in recent years- to keep up with modern standards. It took a few moments for the Old Man to get his bearings, but he got there soon enough.
Some things were never forgotten.
With no Raiders in sight or on the monitor, all appeared to be clear and calm flying. For some reason, Bill found himself frowning over that. Weaving in and around the traffic of the fleet, he locked on to his intended course. A new crop of nuggets was being trained by Brendan "Hot Dog" Costanza.
"You call that flying, Lieutenant?" Bill called out over the comm.
The younger pilot laughed in return. "Frak, yeah!"
"Your style looks like shit, if you ask me."
Return laughter from the rookie pilots could be heard over the airwaves.
Swearing an oath to the gods, Hot Dog checked his DRADIS screen and saw the newly arrived Viper falling into formation. Figuring someone was late, or Chief was falling down on the job, Costanza joined in with his own mirthful laughter.
"Who the hell is in Viper Zero-One? You do the best damn impression of the admiral. All tight-ass and blue-balled sounding... When we get back home, the beer's on me at Joe's Bar!"
Breaking formation, Bill banked port and was on Hot Dog's wing within seconds.
Glancing out his canopy at the newcomer, the lieutenant's jaw dropped upon realization. "Sir!"
"The call-sign's Husker," Bill growled, then added a playful smirk. "And the beer's on me, kid. So shut your frakking mouth and show me the best of what you've got!"
"How is she?" President Roslin asked of the young woman that lay crying, and in the fetal position, upon the cold metal floor of Galactica's brig.
"The captain, uh, I mean... Ms. Thrace..."
"Starbuck," Laura suggested to the stammering Marine.
Corporal Lovett swallowed and smiled appreciatively at the older woman before him. "Yes, Sir. Starbuck- has been pretty much like this for most of the day. That is, when she's not banging on the bars and screaming."
Laura Roslin nodded, and continued watching through the thick pane of glass as cracks began to form in her steely mask. The scene reminded her of when her sisters were little. It was always so hard to remain firm through their tantrums. To not comfort them in their obvious pain, even when they were in the wrong and needed to be given a time-out.
"Is she eating? Had any visitors?"
"Not much. Just smears the algae rations on the floor in weird patterns. As for visitors, her husband comes by when he can. He's out on Viper training at the moment... and Julia Brynn brought her daughter, Kacey. The little kid apparently drew her this picture as a get-well wish."
Examining the carefully crafted piece of art, Laura's heart nearly broke for all involved. "I understand she was quite close with the child on New Caprica."
"That's what the mom said."
Again, Laura looked to the drawing, which featured a yellow-haired stick figure images of Kacey holding the hands of Starbuck and Julia. The caption, scrawled below the figures read: MY MOMMIES.
Lovett's genial, but firm military voice snapped the president out of her noticeably pained fog. "The Old Man also has been by, several times."
"He has?"
"Yes, Madam." Oblivious to the president and the admiral's current strained relationship, the guard continued. "He watches over her, just like you are doing now. Like a parent."
Laura gave a choked sigh at the thought.
Admiral Adama could not have loved the girl more if she'd actually been born of him. And therein lied the problem.
When Bill loved someone, he lost all reason. Laura had seen it more than once with other members of his crew. Saul Tigh. Apollo. Herself. The very public display made months ago, during the night of the boxing match known as The Dance, had been proof enough.
The president shook her head. Admittedly, she too, had come to regard Kara Thrace as somewhat of a surrogate for the family members she'd lost over the years. Her mother. Father and sisters. Even her former aide, Billy Keikeya.
Laura fondly recalled the early days of New Caprica, when newlyweds Kara and Sam Anders had been her neighbors. Making a home, living for the moment, and enjoying being foolishly in love.
Like another couple she once knew...
That was then. And now was so very different.
As much as they all wanted to, they couldn't trust this... person? Cylon?
Who- or whatever this was that claimed to be their own, they could not put their love, faith, and trust into them. No matter how much they all wanted to. And certainly not with so very much on the line.
Summoning her resolve, Laura pushed away from the glass- giving one last look to Starbuck, who finally lay spent and asleep. "Thank you, Corporal Lovett. Please let my office know if any changes occur with the prisoner."
Dutifully, the marine nodded and saluted.
# # #
Closing the hatch and spinning the wheel into the locked into position, Laura slumped against the door and silently waited... waited to see if the true occupant of the Commanding Officer's private quarters was indeed, as the guards had just reported to her, elsewhere.
Other than the distinct hum of the ship, and Laura's own tired breathing, not another sound could be heard in the room.
She hadn't seen Bill Adama all day.
Though they'd kept up their public appearances since their fight- especially during his son's decommissioning ceremony, the admiral had made himself scarce where she was concerned for most of the hours that had passed. Save for sleeping on the leather couch in the living area, and using the head, her lover had generally holed himself up either in the CIC or the gym. That was, according to Tory Foster and her corps of discreet spies within Galactica.
Judging by the late hour, Bill should've been home.
Laura prayed he wasn't at Joe's, getting smashed alongside his XO.
Wearily, the president kicked off her shoes and dumped the stack of files she'd been carrying, onto the dining table. It had been a pisser of a day. She'd had a round of cancer therapy that morning, and endless meetings over the course of the afternoon with various officials in her defacto office in the Galactica's main wardroom.
As usual, very little time had been devoted to rest or anything close to it.
Go to bed, Laura told herself. Put to rest this hateful day once and for all.
# # #
Face washed. Teeth brushed. Meds taken.
Laura kneeled on the floor beside the rack, and said her nightly prayers before slipping between the empty sheets.
Despite her exhaustion from the day's events, she didn't feel one bit tired.
A book might have been in order, however, the paperback romance she'd been sneak-reading during her Diloxin treatments seemed less than enticing now. The novel, which had been a gift from the medic Ishay, was one in the Hellenic Fantasies series. With its tawdry cover and even smuttier subject matter, the carnal adventures of Perseus and Andromeda were of little interest to the president at the moment.
Instead, Laura switched on the comm set beside the bed, hopeful that a bit of white noise would lull her to sleep.
Observing the progress of Viper and Raptor flight training over the wireless, while in bed, had been a familiar ritual to Bill and her over recent months. It was like having a Pyramid game on the tv- with she oftentimes dozing, and him naturally dissecting every move the pilots made.
As training exercises went, the proceedings that night were quite entertaining.
Having joined them in-progress, Laura gathered that the squadron had been split into two groups facing off against one another. Team A was being lead by Hot Dog, with Hardball serving as his wing-man. Team B, the challenger, was an unknown commodity- the leader having yet been identified, but seemed to be backed up faithfully by Longshot.
For the most part, Hot Dog was doing all the talking.
Comforted by the sound, Laura burrowed into the pillows and tried her best not to think of her bull-headed, Tauran man. Even as she breathed in his warm and lingering scent that still clung to their rack...
"Alright! Alright! You live up to the legend that proceeds you, Husker," Brenden 'Hot Dog' Costanza conceded after the mock dogfight between the two squadrons. "Who taught you fly a war bird like that?"
"As old as he is, probably Mars!" Diana 'Hardball' Seelix got off tartly over the comm before the seasoned pilot could wager a reply.
"Shut up, Hardball!" Sam 'Longshot' Anders loudly reprimanded his fellow rookie. "Show some respect... to the elderly!"
Bill grinned inside his flight helmet at the playfully added jab from Kara's husband. "Thanks, Longshot- for having my back, and proving to this doddering old fool that you're not the brown-nosed pretty-boy I thought you were!"
Whistles and cheers crackled over the wireless.
"Anytime, Sir!"
Not wanting Hot Dog to feel left out, Bill returned his attention back to the young CAP leader. "Your combat skills are damn fine, Costanza. Knowing your history, I'd say your teacher quite successfully whipped your butt into shape"
"Ya got that right. For awhile it was your son, Apollo. But then, uh..." stammered the pilot. "Starbuck took over. I learned from her. I learned from the best. I mean- um, the second best?"
Bill Adama caught the multi-layered discomfort in the boy's voice. Felt it in his heart. "No, Hot Dog. You were right the first time. Starbuck was and is the very best pilot around. I've always said and thought as much."
"That's my baby, he's talkin' about!" hooted Longshot.
And mine as well, Bill agreed to himself as a single tear slid down his cheek. To the rest of the squadron he proposed an idea befitting of Kara Thrace herself.
"Before heading back for the barn, what say we take a run by Colonial One? Show those lazy governmental bureaucrats the true weight and muscle of the Fleet..."
"And wake up Mama in the process?!" Hot Dog replied in askance of Laura Roslin, using the un-official title bestowed to her by the pilots and crew of the Galactica. "Give her a real thrill, eh?"
Rumors of his personal relationship with the president had swirled around the fleet since Kobol, so Brenden Costanza's innocent jab hit close to the heart. Reminded of his wounded lover, Bill Adama ached to be back in her arms- and not sitting in the cockpit of a Viper.
That is, if she would still have him.
"I have it on good authority that President Roslin is currently residing aboard Galactica, and not Colonial One. For the duration of her current medical treatments, or until further notice."
Hot Dog bit his cheek at the return. As did the rest of the pilots.
"However, one of our own is now amongst the Quorum. I think you all know of whom I speak. The former Major, Leland Adama," Bill stated with equal pride and loss. "Let's give him a true send-off, not to mention a reminder of all that he'll be missing- and buzz his lazy Representative ass!"
Catcalls and shouts of "So say we all!" from the affirmative pilots filled the airways.
"Damn, Husker!" cheered Hot Dog. "I like the way you think, man!"
The acknowledgment felt good, but made Bill hate himself even more.
Rolling over, Laura checked the time and found that nearly an hour had passed since she'd first laid down. Apparently she'd been more tired than she had previously thought, and was quickly flooded with memories of vivid dreams she'd had while sleeping, inter-cut with Viper training proceedings.
Something big was happening over the wireless, and it caused her to sit up in the bed.
Laura could have sworn she'd heard Bill shouting.
Of course he was!
Something was happening around Colonial One. From her sleep-fogged mind, Laura at first thought the former passenger liner had been the target of a Cylon attack, but in listening further, discovered that it was instead the Colonial Viper training squadron that was behind the engagement.
Had they lost their collective minds?!
Captain Albert Schaffer was furious.
As was President Roslin. She could hear Schaffer screaming out over Colonial One's wireless. There was much confusion going on in the background. Other voices in the ship's cockpit could be heard.
Lee Adama eventually came on the line.
"What the frak is wrong with you people?!"
Another voice followed in reply. One that made Laura's heart skip a beat.
"Just brought a few friends by to wish you goodnight, Son."
"Dad?!"
Laura could just imagine Bill's son, gripping the comm receiver, face red with incredulousness. And Bill loving every minute of it all.
"Are you drunk? Have you lost your mind?!"
"No. And yes."
Laura laughed at that. She wasn't quite so certain of the former, definite of the latter.
"Does Laura know you're out there? Risking your ass, not to mention the Fleet?"
She couldn't wait for Bill's response, following one of his usual silent gaps in conversation.
"No."
"She'll likely court-martial you. Throw you in the brig for misuse of Colonial Property."
A very good idea, Laura agreed with a nod to both Lee and herself.
'"She wouldn't do that."
"Why not?"
"Yes, Husker," Laura added rhetorically. "Why not?"
"Because she loves me."
This time the silence came from the younger Adama.
"Are you sure of that?"
Laura held her breath, along with the rest of the other Viper pilots, not to mention anyone who might be listening in the CIC.
"Yeah."
"Then get yourself back to Galactica, Husker," ordered Lee. "Goodnight, Dad."
At that, Laura switched off the wireless, and exhaled audibly. So many emotions were at war inside her, she didn't know whether to laugh, cry, or throw something. Looking down, Laura noticed the cheap paperback she'd been trying to read earlier, was twisted in her hands. Feeling bad about damaging a book, even one so tritely written, made her feel tremendous guilt, and she quickly worked to reshape its covers and spine.
So much like their relationship...
With a worlds weary sigh, Laura laid back against the pillows and resumed her reading.
# # #
Forty-five minutes later, Laura was awakened yet again, this time by the familiar sound of the hatch door opening. The sound of concerned voices from the admiral's Marines, along with her own security detail, soon followed... only to be waived off by the man-of-the-hour, himself.
Finally, after Bill's firm assertions that all was well, the hatch door clanged shut and the lock spun into place. Laura watched and listened silently from the rack, as he seemed to move over cautiously in the lowly lit quarters. By the time he made it into the second- half of the space, she couldn't help but notice a certain foul odor surrounding her lover, one that in her post-Diloxan treatment state, made her stomach churn. Ignoring the urge to vomit, Laura watched as Bill continued onto the head– pausing once to glance in her direction, only to see her playing at being asleep.
With a deep sigh, Bill pushed open the door and stepped into his tiny, but coveted private bathroom.
No longer needing to hide, Laura sat up on the edge of the narrow mattress. Bill had left the hatch door ajar, so she could partially see and hear his goings on without being found- out herself.
It was a bit like the spying she'd do with her sisters, on their parents...
From Laura's darkened vantage point, it appeared that Bill still wore his Colonial Fleet flight suit. She stifled a giggle at that, not knowing he even still had one– much less that he could fit his tummy into one of the unforgiving suits. The sound of several opening fasteners could be heard, along with a few choice Tauran swear words. A thick zipper opened, and then came a loud crash.
Even as tired as she was, Laura was off the rack and at the hatch door within seconds.
Her lover had fallen.
Hearing Bill continue to curse, both in Tauran and Colonial Standard, Laura knew he was alright, at least to the point that he hadn't lost consciousness. She paused at the door for a moment, deciding what to do. How to handle the situation.
His audible tears broke her heart. When they subsided, she pushed open the hatch door and entered the room.
"Laura."
Her name, as always, was like a prayer on his lips. It made it very hard for her to be mad at him.
"Are you okay?"
Bill waited a beat to reply, while trying to figure out the answer for himself. "Uh, yeah. I just kind of..."
"Melted?" Laura offered.
He was sitting, more or less, on the bathroom floor. His legs were oddly bent, and his back was up against the toilet. "I was trying to take off my boots, but I slid off the toilet instead. I forgot how slick these suits are."
She bent to help her aged fly-boy up, and got a good whiff of the odor emanating from him. "Gods, Bill. You smell like a sewer."
"Sorry." He husked an embarrassed laugh as they stood eye-to-eye before Laura guided him back to the closed lid of the toilet. "Viper pilots can get as much a workout in a training run as a Pyramid player on Game Day. One can get pretty ripe under the right circumstances."
"Here, let me help you," Laura offered.
The admiral-turned-pilot shook his head, causing his lover to glare at him. The president didn't look like she was willing to negotiate, so Bill wisely acquiesced.
Laura held her breath, as she worked the center zipper of Bill's flight suit. Once open, she peeled the garment apart, and off his shoulders and arms. Bill's double tanks were soaked in sweat, and were plastered to his body. As Laura moved the flight suit downward to his legs, the on-piece encountered the obstacle of his boots, and caused her to sigh.
"My boots have to come off before the suit," Bill explained. "There's a latch on each, that seals things together."
"How do you learn all this? Do the suits come with an instruction manual?"
Bill chuckled as he gently lowered himself to the toilet, with Laura's help. "It's all taught in Basic Training. A pilot's life is on the line, in regard to their gear, so one learns pretty quick if you want to survive."
Once Laura removed both of his boots, she pulled the rest of the suit South, and promptly carried it all out to the front room of Bill's quarters. "Jaffe can take care of that in the morning," she said triumphantly, upon returning to the bathroom.
"Says the Lady of the House," noted the admiral, as he attempted to remove his sweaty socks.
The president groaned, albeit lightly. She helped her man off with his tanks and underwear, then directed him to get in the shower stall.
Feeling like a bowl of cooked noodles, Bill did not argue with Laura, and did as he was told. But when she removed her own clothing, and stepped in with him, he had to protest.
"Sweetheart, you don't have to do this. I'll be alright."
She hummed softly. "I know, but I want to."
His heart nearly shattered. "I'm sorry that I'm so... messy."
Such is life.
Laura giggled for the first time in days, which in turn made Bill smile. She stepped forward, and claimed his mouth in a tenderly soul-baring kiss. Without thinking, he returned the sentiment and pulled her closer into his arms. Tears slid down both of their faces as they held onto each other in weary relief.
"You're talking to a former Kindergarten teacher," Laura stated as she moved back for air. "Plus, I had two younger sisters. I think that I've seen just about everything. Now, let's get you cleaned up."
He tried once more, to adorably protest. "Cottle said you shouldn't be exposed to anything–"
"I'll be fine, honey. Ishay even double wrapped my catheter with waterproof tape, so I'm completely cleared to get wet. Okay? Anymore guff from you, and I will be forced to airlock your sexy ass."
"Yes, Sir!" Bill replied gamely.
"If we're going to do this, we're going to do this right," Laura explained, as went to work at turning on the water. She adjusted the temperature to a comfortably hot steam, then grabbed the yellow Fleet-issue soap and began scrubbing Bill's head and body. It was no real tedium for her. Laura loved touching him, feeling the thickness of his hair as she lathered it clean, and the hardness of his muscled shoulders and arms. The red scar that bisected his chest gave her caution as always, even though it was not nearly as sensitive as it had been in the early days of their relationship. Gently, she soaped his pecs and chest area, and then moved on to his lower half. He was softer there, in his belly. Laura didn't mind, as she teasingly circled his navel. She wouldn't have had Bill any other way.
And he wouldn't have had Laura any other way, either. So far the Diloxin treatments had yet to ravage her body, but Bill knew that if they dragged on, they and the cancer itself would do just that. Catching sight of her naked left breast, reminded him of that. But in the end, it would not matter. To him, she would always be the most beautiful woman in all of the Worlds.
Her laugh brought him out of his thoughts. Laura was on her knees, soaping his legs and feet, and looking up at him incredulously.
No doubt because of his massive erection.
"I swear, Bill." Laura stood and let the shower spray rinse away the lather she'd created. "As tired as you are, you can still get it up."
His grin matched hers. "It comes with being a Viper pilot. The rush of adrenaline. G-forces coming at you. The stick between your legs."
Laura rolled her eyes. "Then I guess it's no wonder that they're horny all the time."
Bill desperately needed to do something with his hands, as it was either touching himself or reaching for Laura. So, he slicked back his hair as the shower spray rained down on them both. "Yep, but in my case it doesn't hurt that I have a really hot nursemaid."
She groaned.
"I'll be alright, Laura. Go get dried off. Leave me to this. I'm just gonna turn the tap to cold, and that will be that."
"Nuh-uh. I have a better idea."
Bill liked the look on his lover's face, so much in fact, that he almost forgot she was sick and that he needed to be worried about her. Gamely he obeyed when Laura switched their positions, so that she was the one sitting on the shower bench and he stood before her in front of the spraying water.
"Now turn around and sit on my lap," Laura commanded. When Bill questioned her motives, she grabbed the chain of his dog tags and yanked him back toward her.
Cautiously, he settled himself on her thighs, but kept a certain amount of his weight braced in his legs and feet. A washcloth separated his actual ass from her juncture, but it was all semantics. She had him right where she wanted him.
"Good Husker," Laura cooed in his ear. With his back to her, she was able to wash him there. She appreciated his muscles, soaping and massaging them in between kisses to his wet skin. He liked being babied and tended to by her, just as she enjoyed the same from him. Slowly, Laura traced her tongue along the aged symbol of Tauron tattooed between his shoulder blades, while her hands came around his waist to settle at his genitals. "You know, I could shave you here."
Bill's half closed eyes flew open. "No!"
Laugh giggled playfully as his shout echoed around the tiled walls of the shower stall. Her fingers tangled in his thatch of dark pubic hair, before moving onto his straining length.
"Are you sure?" she purred. "I'd be very careful."
"No," he winced in pleasure. "I mean, yes. Oh Gods, Laura..."
Again Laura giggled sexily into Bill's back. Steam billowed around them both, as she kissed his right shoulder, and nipped him slightly with her teeth. He relaxed his body, and allowed himself to lean back, just a bit, into her. The hot water rained down on his face, as Laura kissed his neck and continued to 'take care' of him.
Bill noted too, that she was taking care of herself as well. Laura's other hand was noticeably absent from him, and her soft hums were turning into decidedly deeper moans
Good for you, Laura.
He covered her hand around his cock, with his own, and they found release together. It was physical and emotional, and it was good.
When he turned to face his lover finally, he found her leaning against the wall behind her. She'd drawn her legs up onto the bench, and was smiling back at him like a satisfied cat. With a matching grin, Bill grabbed a clean washcloth from just outside the shower, wet it under the warm spray, and then went about gently cleaning Laura.
They kissed carefully, before holding each other in spent release.
"I'm sorry," Bill said huskily into her wet hair.
Laura hummed as she kissed one of his biceps. "Me too."
"The things I said to you... they were hurtful..."
"Yes."
"And I was an idiot for taking Kara's Viper out for a run..."
"Completely."
"Will you accept my apology... and my love?"
Laura nodded before wiping away both of their falling tears. "Always."
Again, the couple kissed. And before either one could get too passionate, they parted with loving sighs. Laura could tell that Bill's post-flight exhaustion was returning, so she told him to hit the rack before he collapsed again. With a warm huff, he did as he was told.
Laura's hair was a wet mess, thanks to their shower-time. She had meetings in the morning, so she figured that she might as well wash and dry it before bed, rather than having to dry it again in a few hours.
And possibly lose even more of her red tresses, in the process...
###
Twenty minutes later, Laura found Bill near sleep. The trashy romance novel that she'd been reading, earlier, was laying on his chest and there was a lazy smile on his lips.
"Hellenic Fantasies, eh?" her lover teased as Laura slipped beneath the covers beside him. She had re-dressed in her silky pajamas, and smelled like Fleet-issue soap– a combination that Bill adored on her. "It's not exactly heavy reading, but highly stimulating. Andromeda sure knows how to treat her man, Perseus."
The president blushed, as she knew of the scene that Bill was speaking of.
In the book, Perseus had returned from yet another life-threatening adventure, exhausted and filthy dirty. His love refused to bestow a welcoming kiss to him, upon first sight, but then beckoned him to join her at a secluded waterfall. There, Andromeda washed her man with the nectar of the white jasmine, before making slow and tender love to his weakened self.
Laura hummed, as she tucked her head beneath Bill's chin. She took his dog tags in hand, then kissed him sweetly.
"I may have been a bit inspired by her actions."
"You don't say."
They laughed and cuddled together, in the lowly lit room.
"I actually enjoyed listening to your Viper transmissions on the Wireless," Laura confessed with a giggle. "It was nice insight to you from your pilot days, and very manly."
Bill blushed a bit, as he entwined his legs with hers. "I'm thinking of giving Starbuck a chance to find her bearings, and maybe the path to Earth. Would you agree to requisitioning a ship for her?"
Laura thought of the anguished young woman, laying on the floor of the brig, and felt her chest ache. "Yes." Her reply shocked Bill, until she faced him fully, and caressed his cheek. "Kara is my daughter, as much as she is yours. We have to let her follow her path, even if we don't want to."
The admiral huffed, before kissing his president. "Thank you."
Laura slipped a hand beneath the new set of tanks Bill had put on after their shower. Her man smelled a great deal better now, than when she'd first unzipped his flight suit, and his body was warm and greatly relaxed.
She'd never known a cozier man than him.
"Chief Tyrol replaced our damaged picture."
Bill smiled above his lover's head. "Yeah, I saw that earlier. It looks good. Remind me to thank him tomorrow."
Laura hummed an affirmative, as she felt sleep approaching. "I'm thinking that we ought to have a new Official Picture, made. While that one is very nice, it's a little out of date. What do you think?"
She knew he liked grand gestures, and like their time in the shower, a new photo for the Fleet would say that they were officially together– even amid a very trying time professionally, as well as personally.
"I agree, totally."
"Good. I'll have Tory make the arrangements with the photographer. I want to get it done before I lose any more hair."
She should not have added that last bit. Laura felt Bill's body stiffen, and she knew that knowledge of her cancer treatment's ill effects surfacing, would hurt him terribly. Losing that first chunk of hair on the morning of their fight, had been hard enough on her, and she feared what it would do to him.
But he already knew...
Bill had seen the red strands, which she'd tried to bury in the waste basket near his desk. And yes, they tore his soul in two.
"You'll be every bit as beautiful being bald, as you are right now."
Laura smiled through her tears, and kissed her lover fully. Diloxan treatments be damned, she would brave any possible risk of infection in order to fully seal her emotions to the man that loved her beyond words.
Sleep found them both, wrapped in the security of each other's unity.
TWO DAYS LATER
"Admiral Adama, will you please remove your glasses? I'm getting a glare off of the lenses."
Bill smiled at the photographer, and followed her orders. He handed his glasses to the beautiful red-head to his left, and tried not to smile like an idiot.
They were supposed to be serious and official, but Laura kept giggling over the photographer's purple and green dye job, and it was hard to keep a straight face himself.
"I'm thinking of getting a wig just like that," Laura whispered in his ear. "The Quorum will love it, and the press will go nuts!"
"If you do, then I'm gonna get a mohawk."
Laura's eyes met Bill's, and they squared off in a death stare...
Until Bill laughed openly...
"Please, Madam President– do not encourage the admiral," Tory Foster nagged from outside the range of the camera. "Your meeting in Ward Room 1 is in fifteen– make that fourteen minutes, and your next Diloxan treatment is in an hour and a half. So we need to get this frakking picture done– now!"
The couple grew serious, and did as they were told.
The admiral looked very handsome and confident, in his duty blue uniform...
The president was a pillar of strength, in her black suit, and a newly acquired fushia pink blouse...
And both party's hair looked gorgeous.
"That's the Money Shot!" exclaimed the photographer with the final snap. She showed the digital image to her subjects for their approval, which was granted immediately.
Laura and Bill loved the picture so much that they each ordered a small wallet-sized copy for their personal keeping. Neither one had need to carry a wallet, but they did have pockets, and the small size would be perfect to keep on their person– or to use as a bookmark in each of their current reads.
"Do you remember that photographer that was running around New Caprica, on the day of the groundbreaking?"
Bill smiled at Laura's words as he escorted her to Ward Room 1. Her security team followed at a respectful pace, and made silent note of the couple's togetherness. Word of the admiral's Viper escapade had made the rounds, especially his personal comments regarding the president over the Wireless, and it had the rumor mills buzzing.
"How could I forget! That guy was charging an obscene amount of cubits for printed copies for prospective buyers!"
Laura smiled a thin line of rose. "I bought one."
"You did?"
"Uh huh."
The admiral knew of which image Laura was referring to, as he had bought one as well.
It was of two people– not a president or an admiral, but a regular man and a regular woman– sitting together on a pile of sandbags. Her hand was on his arm, and his feet were buried in the alluvial deposits. They were happy, and very clearly falling in love.
"I was having a very good, Good Hair Day, that day," she noted wistfully.
He could not help but smile at the memory of that day. "Yes, you were."
Once the couple reached the conference room, Bill took a minute to wipe away a solitary tear that had fallen from one of Laura's eyes, and kissed her quickly.
"I miss those days."
"Me too."
Laura nodded, as she composed herself to face the Minister of Energy, who was most likely waiting for her behind the heavy hatch door.
"The other night was a good reminder."
"It was, indeed."
The president sighed, then patted the admiral's chest, before reaching for the wheel to the hatch door.
"Once I complete this round of treatments, Cottle is going to give me a little break. So... if you're up for it, I was thinking that we could try another one of Perseus & Andromeda's Hellenic Fantasies."
Her lover chuckled over the reference to the trashy novel they'd been reading since the night they'd made up.
"You mean, like the one on page 294?"
"Uh huh."
Bill grinned at Laura's invitation.
They'd weathered their biggest fight, since the fateful day that he'd had her put in the brig, and had come out of it united– once again.
A new battle– Cancer, had just begun, but instead of flying to separate corners, they would stand together in the fight. Win or lose, they would be in it together.
No matter what.
"Yeah, I'm up for it, Laura," Bill replied finally, with the air of the cocky Viper pilot that he was deep down at heart. "And you better be too, 'cuz as I recall, Perseus made love to Andromeda with the strength of fifteen men."
Laura hummed, then smiled a smile that reached her bottle green eyes.
"From you, Bill Adama, I'd expect no less."
#END#
A/N 2: The photo from New Caprica that Bill & Laura speak of, can be found in countless images and memes on the internet. Llikewise, their Official Photo, is that beautiful shot of them from the Season Four promo images of BSG couples. Both pictures are distinct examples of this fantastic couple!