A letter of love
Bill jerked awake…her emerald eyes fading into the blackness of night as the echoes of her voice resonated throughout his waking mind.
Yes, we do, Sir….and ugh…I'll be back in a few days…and if you'd like…we can…talk more about that night.
"Damn…" He muttered into the still air, eyes jerking to the clock only to be greeted with a blurry representation of the time. Sighing, he subconsciously reached for his glasses and instantly the numbers snapped into focus. 0615. He was technically late, again. But, each day was becoming increasingly harder to wake up, harder to don his uniform, and harder to find the strength to face the day. A day with, at best, limited contact with Laura Roslin. Contact which was decreasing in length and yesterday was almost his last contact with her. His heart seizing at the notion and the memory. She had collapsed at the end of the Quorum meeting, irregular breathing and pulse rate…
Cottle just shook his head as he came out of the room, unwilling to meet his CO's gaze. "Two…" He cleared his throat, forcing himself to raise his eyes to meet Adama. "Three days at best." He watched the stony reserve of the Admiral almost crack, his eyes momentarily mist over as they slid past him and towards the woman lying on the gurney in sickbay. And then, just as fast the mist was gone, his expression impregnable. But his voice remained lined with raw emotion.
"Can she return to Colonial One?"
Cottle almost swallowed the cigarette he was getting ready to light. "What?" He asked between coughing fits.
Annoyed at having to repeat the obvious, Adama cleared his throat, the tenor of his voice falling into place with his stony expression. "Can the President return to Colonial One? She would be more comfortable in her own surroundings."
Cottle cast a glance towards the woman less than 50 feet away and then back to the man at his side, and for a moment wished the Gods had been forgiving. "I can move her to Colonial One, but she'll have to remain on the IV's."
Adama nodded, already walking towards the curtain. "Make it happen." And then with great gentleness he entered her area. "Hey." He quietly stated as he stepped by her side, tenderly placing his hand atop hers. "Gave us a bit of a scare."
Her eyes cracked open ever so much, "Thought you could use a little more exercise today."
He stepped through the curtain on Colonial One, his heart plummeting as he saw her now frail body covered in a throng of blankets. She was dying. The signs had been apparent for weeks and he had steadfastly been able to ignore her weakening stamina, the color slowly slipping from her skin, and how these past two weeks she had required assistance standing. He noticed her dulling red mane spread across the pillow, a stark contrast to her pale face that turned towards him as he entered. And as she met his gaze with fading eyes, sorrow and anguish threatened to consume him, she was going to be leaving him. Soon.
"Hey." He stated, forcing his lips to curl upwards.
She tried to smile in return, but a flutter of coughs enveloped her and instead she was gasping for breath. She could feel his strong hand supporting her back, helping her sit up as she eagerly gobbled another breath of life. And another. She could still feel his arm supporting her, his body so close that she could feel the heat radiating off.
"Water?" He asked, voice thick with emotion.
Numbly, she nodded. The water would ease her dry throat, but her coughing spells were coming with greater frequency and requiring more and more of her limited stamina. She lifted her hands to wrap around his, the cool glass touching her lips as the wet liquid washed across her tongue and down the back of her throat, easing the ever niggling tickle.
"Thank you." She raspily replied.
"Quite welcome." He stated as he helped her ease back into her make shift bed before drawing a seat next to her. "How are you feeling today?"
A faint smile fluttered across her lips, "Like I need a long vacation along the Caprican ocean."
He reached under the covers taking her hand in his own, absently his thumb began stroking her hand. "Mind if I join you?"
She shook her head, "Not at all." As she starred into his eyes, for a moment she could believe she was starring at the Caprican Ocean for his eyes were as blue. And then she cleared her throat, and the ball of emotion from the back of it. "But I must tell you, of late I haven't been one for company."
It was his turn to stare, but unlike her, he didn't clear his throat and his husky voice resonated in the space between them. "I'll manage."
At that, she truly smiled. Her eyes crinkling as a hint of their once brilliant green eyes returned. "I hope so." She willed her hand to gently squeeze his fingers.
And they sat there for an eternity. Both staring at the other. Bill trying to memorize her face. Laura taking strength from his presence.
He felt the tears running down his cheeks, unchecked and unbidden as he starred lovingly into her face. "Laura…" He cleared his throat, "I want you to know…" She reached up, placing a finger upon his lip, silencing his words.
Tears slipping out of the corners of her eyes, her voice breaking. "Save it for tomorrow." She whispered, "I want something to look forward to."
He wrapped his hand around hers, pressing it to his lips as he conveyed how much she meant to him through actions. Slowly he nodded, "As you wish." He replied, gravel lining his voice.
They both turned their heads as a knock sounded at the door, Tory stepping through. "Sorry Admiral, I wouldn't bother you…but…" She cleared her throat. "Galactica has set the Fleet to Condition One."
Adama felt his world snap back, but without one important piece…his heart. The holder of it still lay before him, hand grasped within his. Her pale face starring up at him, her tears mirroring his, but the news startling her as much as him. "Go…" She tried to yell, but came out more as a soft plea. "Please, Bill."
He kissed her knuckles again before letting her hand go, long strides having him to the doorway where he turned. Eyes locking with hers, "See you this evening."
She nodded, "Now go." Her heart sinking as his gaze slowly tore from hers, and then he was gone. And she felt the tickle growing, her breathing becoming harder and she closed her eyes, silently praying for just one more day. After all, Bill Adama hadn't told her that he loved her yet.
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"Admiral," Dee stated, her head flying up to stare at him. "It's the President." She pushed against the side of her headset, "Sir," She met his gaze with her own. "She's dead."
Adama heard the words and felt as though the life had left his body, their momentary victory over the Cylons mere moments ago gone in the next heartbeat. Along with his heart. He felt his hands grasping the consol, head dropping down as he labored for another breath, forcing his stony reserve to remain in place. But for a moment, his heart had been laid bare, and then ripped to shreds. He vaguely heard Tigh barking orders, and he gripped the consol tighter, feeling the pressure against his hand, giving himself something to focus on. Something other than the hole in his chest that Dee's words had caused.
Pushing himself upright, he met Saul's gaze. It was one of understanding. Tigh had known that their relationship had developed into something more, but not quite. A camaraderie that had teetered on the verge for months, but both staying the line called 'responsibility'. Tigh nodded at Adama, knowing full well the impact Roslin's death would have on the 'old man'. "I have the deck."
Adama barely responded with a nod as he strode off the deck the picture of a soldier, his shoulder's square, steps measured, face stoic, and beneath the subterfuge, lay a man who was trying not to die from a broken heart.
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Tory nodded to the guards on either side of the Admiral's door as she raised her hand to knock on his hatch. At the second knock, she began to worry that he was not within his quarters and was turning to ask the guards but the hatch opened, to reveal a haggard looking Admiral.
"Ugh…" Tory cleared her throat, forging ahead as it was the last wish of the President to ensure he received her personal belongings. "Admiral," She raised the small box, "President Roslin asked that I give you this in the advent of her death."
Adama glanced to the white box, and the letter with his name scrolled a top. He reached out, "Thank you."
Tory felt the weight of the box vanish as his hands grasped the edges. Her hand going to his forearm, stopping his retreat into his quarters. "Sir, I want you to know…" Her voice dropped to a whisper. "She loved you."
Adama's eyes had dropped to her hand, and at her words, he forced his eyes back up to her face. "And I her, Miss Foster. Thank you."
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The resounding thud of the hatch, reverberated through his bones. His eyes, however, drawn to the distinct handwriting that lay atop the box. A letter, addressed to him. The last one he'd ever receive from her. Mindlessly he walked through his quarters, half elated at the notion of what lay within, the other half dreading to read it. With great effort, he set the box down and delayed the inevitable for a moment as he removed the lid to see the treasures that encompassed Laura Roslin.
A white cloth obscured the view, and upon removing it…his eyes misted over. There lay everything that he associated with the woman named Laura Roslin. Her silver bracelet, a scarlet red scarf – the one she wore on New Caprica, a stack of diaries, a silver necklace draped over the front of the top diary, two New Caprican cigarettes, a bottle of nearly empty perfume… he lifted the bottle up to gently breathe in the aroma emanating from the sprayer. His eyes closing as he took a deep breath, allowing for a brief moment to believe that Laura, herself had just walked past. Several seconds passed and then turned back to the letter no longer able to stop himself.
His fingers drawing along the sealed envelope until his hand became unsteady as he drew the letter out. The flap falling open along its creases, enabling him to see the last of her eloquent handwriting. His eyes began scanning the document, tears falling from his lashes and off his chin.
Bill,
The road we have traveled has been long and one that I would not trade for an entire lifetime, since I was able to spend it getting to know the many faces that encompass the man, William Adama. I only wish that our time had been filled with evenings at Trasinx Hall, after the play walking hand in hand under Caprica's skies, and perhaps a bottle of Ambrosia as we lay next to a roaring fire with my head upon your chest as I listen to the tenor of your voice reading Dark Day.
There are so many things I wish to say, and as I write this letter, I find the words seem to have escaped me and my hand is already growing tired. Know that I never grew tired of gazing into your beautiful eyes. Nor of hearing the timbre of your voice. Or of sitting in your quarters, being in your presence. I loved being around you, because as you know, I have been in love with you for years.
I harbor the hope that the scriptures are in fact true, that this has all happened before and will all happen again. For then I shall see you, and be with you again. And perhaps in a world where our responsibilities do not define us, but we are able to define our responsibilities as husband and wife.
And now Earth lay but a stone's throw away, and I shall die before we reach it. If it is in your heart, please see to it that I lay overlooking a stream, with a view of the sky and the stars. For the stars have held my heart and dreams since the fall of the Twelve Colonies and I pray and hope that they will no longer contain you. And you will settle on Earth, finding the peace you rightly deserve and along with the retirement I wish I could have been a part of.
Bill, thank you for being my friend. Thank you for letting me become part of your family. Thank you for loving me. Thank you for letting me love you.
Until we met again.
Always yours,
Laura
Bill's heart was hammering in his chest as his legs collapsed beneath him, his arms clutching the letter to his chest, tears splashing the parchment, his soul screaming for just one more minute of time to spend…with her.