The Guilt

Chapter 1.

He drunk himself into sleep for many nights already, but it wasn't getting any better. It was becoming an obsession. He reckoned he was loosing it.

He woke up in the middle of the night, covered with cold sweat, with a terrible headache, terrible taste in his mouth and terrible thoughts.

Thoughts were the worst.

No, scrap it, the worst was the scene playing in his mind over and over again. Every waking hour, in every dream, sober or drunk – always the same scene.

Beautiful, helpless, pleading deep green eyes staring into his, perfectly shaped lips barely moving, whispering words that thundered in his ears:

"Please, don't do that… Please!"

She chose Daddy. No, actually she didn't, 'cause she didn't consider the son as a possible choice. The very moment a stone-faced Admiral showed up on the gods-damned planet, gun atilt, she was his, the "golden boy" beyond recall. It was logical, appropriate, and even politically correct. An image of the young Captain Apollo thrown out of the airlock in a blink of an eye.

He was angry, he was furious, he was ready to strangle with bare hands, but he didn't. She was dying. He couldn't sadden her beyond need with his complains, he was decent enough to respect her wishes.

But he was furious nonetheless.

He tried to talk to her once after she was rushed to Life-station for the last time. He wanted to explain how he felt, how much she meant to him, to say once more that he's forever her Captain Apollo, but Daddy said she mustn't be disturbed and he obeyed. As usual.

Coward.

He used to lock himself in the tiny storage room and pray. As heartily as he could. Hot tears falling freely down his cheeks.

"Lords of Kobol, don't take her, please, don't take her! I'll do anything, I'll die if needed, I'll agree to never see her or talk to her again, just let her be, I beg you, just let her exist! Somewhere, anywhere, just don't take her, Gods, please don't take Laura Roslin from this world!"

TBC?