Authors Note

The challenge was made to me, and I am hardly one to reject a challenge!

Challenge : To write Bill and Laura's worst fight yet, about earth. It must include "tears and stuff". So let's get cracking!

Set after "revelations" obviously, but I borrowed a lot from "six of one" because that is their only personal argument so far and I needed inspiration.

Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters what-so-ever, so please don't sue. If you're still keen on suing me, then do it over the story that you think is the best. Leave me a little bit of ego as I go to prison.

The razor slid smoothly across his skin, parting the foam on either side of the trail. He knocked it once, twice, three times on the side of the basin, making sure the remnants of the foam settled in the sink. The repetition calmed his nerves, and he slowly brought the razor back up, etching out another path from his bottom lip down to his chin.

Not many people appreciated the calming aspect of shaving. To Bill Adama, it meant that he was in control, not the Gods. He held the razor in his hand, it was his decision. The focus and attention needed let him take his mind off of other things. Like the frakking joke that earth turned out to be-

His hand stilled as he regarded himself in the mirror. His own blue eyes pierced his reflection, and Bill could see the fatigue, the defeat behind his façade. They had come back just a few hours ago. Was it only that long ago? Resuming his routine, Bill gently slid the razor down, starting at his chin and slowly moving down his neck. Hours since he had held the soil in his hand, hours since he looked around at the landscape, hopelessness sinking in, hours since he had talked to anyone. Anger slowly boiled up within him as he continued shaving, and a sudden knock at the hatch caused his hand to slip from its usual position. The blade dug deep into his skin, drawing blood.

"Frak!" Bill muttered, wincing as he saw small droplets escape down his neck. Furious with himself for letting his hand slip, he pulled the towel from where it was folded comfortably on a countertop, and held it to his cut. He moved slowly back into his main living quarters, wondering idly who would dare knock at his hatch when he expressly ordered to be left alone.

His thoughts were all brought to a stop, however, when he pulled the hatch open. Laura Roslin stood on the other side, arms crossed in front of her, mouth set in a grimace, eyes glinting coldly. Bill could order her to go away, implore her to just leave now, but he knew that it would do no good. She was the most stubborn woman he'd ever met, and as much as he told himself he wanted to, Bill Adama could not push her away from his door, not now, and Laura knew it.

He left the hatch open grudgingly and moved back across the room towards his decanter of alcohol. He poured himself a glass (he had drunk too many today), before turning around and silently offering her one. Laura declined, however, gently locking the hatch, before moving over to the couch and sitting precariously on the edge of it.

Bill sat down next to her, the leather pulling him in. A sigh escaped his lips as his back melded into the couch. They sat there, silent, neither willing to start the conversation they knew was going to either strengthen them or break them. Bill didn't mind the silence, he was reluctant to speak, to start the particular conversation off. Earth had been a disappointment, a big frakking mistake, it was absolute-

"You gonna talk or just drown your sorrows?"

It began. Bill took small, measure sips from his glass, pondering whether to dignify her question with a response or to just keep quiet and hope that she would give up and leave. A small thump in his head indicated he had drunk just about enough to remain in check, but he ignored it and took another swig from his glass. This scenario had happened before, when Kara had returned. All of this has happened before, all of it will happen again. He laughed inwardly. The irony of it. They followed the path set out by Pythia, they followed the scrolls completely, and this is where they end up? Following the common law of finite possibilities and applying it to a stupid argument.

"Bill, you need to talk to me here. Earth wasn't quite what we expected, I know-"

He snorted in reply, not bothering to speak. She continued on, ignoring the interruption.

"-and seeing the reality hurt us all. I know you're grieving, but you've got to let someone in. Don't hold it in. Talk to me."

"I'm tired of losing."

The statement was met with silence. He was tired now. He'd had enough. There was no winning, no slight victory. Whenever he felt as if something had gone right, there was always something to bring it down, turn it into a colossal failure, and he was sick of it. Laura turned her head away slightly, trying to reign in her emotions at hearing those four simple words. He was tired of losing, tired of her leading them into one failure after the next. He hadn't said it, but the meaning was clear behind the words. Bill was tired of listening to her and regretting it, she knew.

"I'm sorry." Bill looked up, blue eyes meeting green. Unshed tears collected at the corners of her eyes and she tried to hold them in. She didn't want him to see her break down, not now. Bill moved his hand up to caress her cheek, to wipe the tears away but she blocked him, standing up quickly.

"You're tired of it, I know Bill. Don't you think I'm tired too? Don't you think your son is tired? Your best friend? We're all tired, but you've locked yourself away, you've clammed up."

She exhaled softly and folded her arms protectively across her chest, looking away from him.

She wanted a fight. He could tell, after the last time, when Laura Roslin was needling, aching for a fight. Just like last time, he was willing to give her one.

"Yes we're all tired," he agreed quietly, his words punctuating the heavy silence that settled around them, "we've celebrated hope after hope, only to find that every hope we've ever had has been tinged with disappointment. I once said that you made me believe, and it's still true. However, I can't afford to believe anymore if all I endure is failure."

The words stabbed at Laura's heart, and she stared intently above his head, not giving him the satisfaction of how much his words had truly hurt her. He couldn't afford to believe in her anymore, he had openly admitted it. A smile appeared on her face. Laura was a politician, and it was common law that when faced with something bad, you should always remain calm, smile, not show how they have ruffled your feathers. It wasn't working, however, as she felt a single tear slide down her cheek. They had both come so far in the past few weeks, and yet she felt as if they were right back at the start.

"You can't believe in me anymore." Her smile broke as the words were re-iterated from her own mouth. She was seeking confirmation, hoping, pleading to him that she had mistaken his words.

"We followed directions, we followed these scrolls and we found Earth. 'The Promised Land'. You've seen it with your own eyes," as if to accentuate the point, he caught her gaze, his eyes piercing hers, "how can you still believe? How can you still have faith?"

He didn't receive an answer. Laura was left reeling. There was no answer to his question, and he knew it. Bill couldn't afford to rely on a whim anymore. He needed something tangible to believe in. Ground surveys, radioactivity levels, those he could rely on. Someone coming up to him and telling him, "it'll all be alright in the end", now that he couldn't rely on, didn't want to rely on. Laura could offer him nothing but blind faith, but he realised, not soon enough, that the price for relying on that was too high.

"So that's it then," Laura sighed, moving slightly closer to him, "Bill Adama lies down and gives up."

"That's it." Bill agreed, downing the rest of the contents of his glass.

"We had a vision Bill. A common goal. We can't quit now, we are so close."

"Close? I held the soil in my hand Laura. It was radioactive. No life can be supported down there, you know that."

"The ground survey teams are still working. The vision of a Promised Land could still-"

"I think I've had just about enough of visions." It was a statement, putting a stop to her argument. She drew in a sharp breath at his sudden admission. It was her vision after all that prompted her to admit her feeling for him. It was Elosha inside her mind that implored her to love, while she still could. Yet here was the man she loved, telling her he was at the end of his tether with her visions. He was talking irrationally now, he had too much to drink. Bill Adama would never say this unless-

"You're drunk." She told him, sitting down on the coffee table in front of the couch. She was less than a foot away, trying to gauge his reaction.

"And you're dying." He retorted, moving to get up and collect his decanter. There was something so personal, so sharp about what was said that he instantly regretted the words from coming out of his mouth. He was being below the belt, he knew. Nothing could have prepared either of them for that.

Laura just sat, her head tilted to the side, her hands coming up slowly to play with the strands of her wig. It was a futile attempt to calm herself, and she removed the wig, letting it fall onto the table beside her. She would remain strong here. He didn't mean what he said, she knew it.

"You're right." She replied slowly, her hand shakily smoothing over her bald head. Bill didn't turn at her admission, instead letting out a heavy sigh and putting the decanter down. He'd had enough alcohol to last him a lifetime. He decided then that it was stupid and pointless to escape his problems with a glass of Ambrosia.

"I didn't mean to say that." He admitted quietly, his back still turned to her. He felt ashamed that he had even said that, after all they had been through.

"And yet it came out anyway," Laura replied simply, her hand now softly touching the wig next to her, "at least you've accepted it. Look at me Bill."

He refused, stubbornly keeping his eyes on the glass in front of him. Suddenly he felt a hand lightly caress his shoulder, drawing him in, turning him around slowly, with ease. He couldn't say no to her, not now, not ever. As his eyes caught sight of her, he was instantly drawn to her head. There was no wig there, just skin. Bill remembered the first time he had found hair in his bin. It had ripped his heart in two.

His hand once again came up slowly to her cheek, and he couldn't help but let tears escape his eyes. This time, she allowed it, nestling her cheek into the palm of his hand, but the look of fatigue still remained on her face. His hand roamed up to her scalp, running along it, feeling the absence of her hair. She sighed and closed her eyes, dreading what he was thinking. She didn't need to worry however, as she heard him whisper;

"I love you Laura."

A smile formed on her lips, but only a small one. She would never forget this argument, and she was sure that he wouldn't either. It was too raw for her to forgive him for what he said, although she couldn't find it in her heart to blame him. Everyone had given up hope after seeing earth.

She let out a small sigh and met his troubled gaze. Pulling her own hands up, she used her thumbs to trail his tears, wiping the moisture away. His skin was smooth against her hands, and she could only surmise that he had been shaving. It was Bill Adama's way of dealing with everything. Once she was finished, Laura smiled again and pulled him to her, her head resting lightly on his shoulder, her arms pulling him tightly into an embrace. He acquiesced, clinging to her like she was about to glide away from him. You're not going anywhere Laura, ever, he thought stubbornly, his arms wrapping themselves around her.

"I love you too Bill." It was a sigh into his neck, much like the first time. So much had changed though. Bill pulled away reluctantly, and held Laura's waist. She looked at him, smiling inquisitively. He had that look in his eyes, much the same as the last time when she was dying and he-

She felt a small amount of pressure on her lips. His lips were soft and warm, drawing her in. It was chaste, but as he pulled away, Laura felt safe and secure. He smiled at her and she returned it, pulling him close again. He was starting to realise that this, finding earth, was not the end of their journey, and he couldn't pick anyone better to go through it with.