Written as a prompt-fic for akachankami: "adama/roslin scheduled meeting(s)"
Small one-shot, just keeping up with the groove. It's not great, but then I am a little swamped by assignments lately, so forgive me.
Cami, I hope it's enough for this prompt hunny, and lemme know what you think :)
Set any time before Epiphanies.
Little Fire
Sometimes- on those days when she feels especially isolated, without any real friends, the sickness slowly creeping through every fibre of her being, making it hard for her to focus on anything except the loneliness and the burden of just maybe being the dying leader after all- sometimes, on those days, she schedules meetings with him, purely for the pleasure of his company.
It's usually to discuss something important, like food rationing, which she sees will become a real problem very soon; or riot control, which his people cover wonderfully but feel they shouldn't; or population distribution, which is becoming a new concern after three babies were born in the last week and their families had to be relocated for lack of space.
He answers her call, and tells her that he has a squadron debrief in the morning and a long shift in the afternoon, but if she doesn't mind, he can spare his lunch break to hear her concerns over a bowl of algae.
And she laughs, a real laugh, which makes for a nice change, and asks him to save her some, so long as he doesn't mind her crashing his downtime.
He never does, of course, and that makes her smile too.
Sometimes, when she calls him up unexpectedly, and asks to see him, she thinks he must see through her, but he never makes comment, like the good little soldier that he is, and she can't ever bring herself to stop. It's one of the few comforts she has; his friendship. She thinks he must know that. She thinks, sometimes, that it might be the same for him, though of course half of his crew are like family to him, and he has Saul Tigh, and his ship is his home, unlike so many others who have had to make it so by sheer force of will.
And sometimes, only rarely, only after she's had her lunch with him, and gone through the motions of making it look like a very important and official meeting, and once she's back on her ship; sometimes she wonders what she would think of Bill Adama if she wasn't dying.
Sometimes that train of thought is enough to make her cry, because if she's really honest with herself, she admires him and respects him, and she would have liked to have had the chance to see if those two things could ever mean something more, if they weren't two people keeping humanity alive by the skin of their teeth and thanks to a good dose of dumb luck.
Sometimes she wishes she wasn't the dying leader after all.
Most days, though, she's thankful she is and what that all means for her people, and she reminds herself of that when he greets her at the entrance to his rooms with a joke about the menu and a shine like warmth in his eye.
"It's good to see you, Admiral"
"Madame President. What's on the agenda today?"
And she smiles, and steps inside.
A/N: Title from the song of the same name by Patty Griffin and Emmylou Harris:
All that I want is one who knows me
A kind hand on my face when I weep
And I'd give back these things I know are meaningless
For a little fire beside me when I sleep