Disclosure: I do not own BSG or any of its characters, yet they live on in my heart. SO SAY WE ALL!
QUALAI
William Joseph Adama, otherwise known as Bill the Little Bull, crept down the flight of stairs as carefully as his slightly bowed legs could muster. It was a tall order, indeed, especially considering how excited he was to continue his ongoing and very top-secret, undercover operation.
From his vantage point at the top of the second floor landing, Bill had watched as his mother, Evelyn, and his father Joe, left for work. The pair had been 'debating' an issue, quite loudly, since breakfast. Mami left first, with a slam of the front door that threatened to shatter the gorgeous stained-glass panes set within the door panel's timbers. Then, after a few minutes time, Dati, with a deep breath to compose himself, left as well.
Sadly, mornings in the Adama household had been like that, more often than not.
No one had noticed days ago, when Bill found the old key attached to a braided leather loop of a fob, lying on the tiled floor of the foyer. His father often kept such a key on his person, in the left pocket of his pants, but sadly he never spoke of what it was for.
Today, young Bill aimed to find out!
At four years of age, he was quite precocious and wise beyond measure. Sneaking about, Bill imagined himself the hero of his favorite cartoon, Jason: The Argo-Naut. Like Jason, the tot fancied that he was on the hunt of a great relic, or other part of a further mystery.
And the key in question, was just that- the key to finding such treasure!
Bill stared at the patina of the metal piece in his surprisingly large hands. The greenish color meant that it was old. So, it made sense that whatever said key went to, must also be old as well.
That meant only one thing.
Looking about, and over his shoulder, Bill reverently made his way to his father's study.
He never dared go into the room when Joe was home, and in the times he did it was because he'd been a naughty boy. Dati would have summoned him, allowed him to have plead his case, and then handed down his ruling on what sentence would be have to be met.
Such was the life of a lawyer's son.
The room just breathed the word old. Even though the Adama beach house itself was younger than Bill by one year, the private office had a way of feeling ancient. Not like quite like Olympus, but close. Joe had it built in the style of a Tauron library, full of fine leather and imported dark hardwoods. Rows and rows of books filled the shelved walls, all the way to the ceiling. A rolling ladder beckoned to be ridden around on rails, but Mami had forbidden such an action, saying her Little Bull could get hurt far too easily and that would make her cry.
Ignoring the tempting ladder, Bill went straight to the most hallowed item in the study.
Joseph Adama's desk. It loomed large, even in such a spacious room.
An equally impressive chair sat neatly behind the heavily carved plane of furniture. Bill climbed into the enveloping leather- which was no easy feat, considering the chair was set on rolling casters- and placed his moist palms on the desk blotter.
He slid open drawers. Gently moved papers. A flat wooden box in the bottom right drawer gave promise, but there was no lock on it to be found. It opened easily to reveal a generous number of fragrant Paloma label cigars.
Frustrated, Bill banged his fists on the desk. It was an act that mimicked his father, and was actually hard enough to shake the mighty wood structure. So much in fact, a gentle rattle could be heard coming from the center of the desk! Bill pushed the chair backward and stared at the relief work that decorated the upper part of the desk where it joined the twin columns of drawers.
Centaurs danced with goddesses amidst great cauldrons of flames, while Pan played his flute. The scene was from something called a bacchanalia, whatever that was.
The area around the carving of a goddess' exposed bottom appeared worn. His olive skin blushing, Bill touched the wood there lightly, and found it to give a little. Squeezing his eyes tightly shut, he pressed a finger hard into the button... until it popped out like so much magic!
Revealed there in the desk, appeared a slot meant for a key of such a size and width as the one that dangled from young Bill Adama's wrist.
With a shrug, Bill inserted the key into the carved goddess' rump, and gave the metal bit an easy turn.
Hammers clicked and no time at all, a narrow and slim drawer slid out from its formerly secret position below the desktop.
Eureka! Open Sesame!
Bill stared in wonder of the stash within.
The items were disappointingly mundane. A used book of matches. Ticket stubs to past Pyramid games. A glass vial holding a small amount of dirt. Coin cubits. A few old letters, one of them with a crispy, dried flower tucked inside the envelope. There were a couple photographs of his mother; one of them of her in a pretty white dress, and then a silly one of her standing with his father- his arms wrapped around her, laughing and enormously pregnant. There were other pictures, older and dog-eared. Those were of his paternal grandparents, Uncle Samuel as a boy, and various other family members. They all looked so serious.
A small vellum envelope located towards the back of the drawer gave the child hope.
Thinking the yellowed packet could possibly house a treasure map, Bill Adama eagerly opened it. Two golden rings slid out, one larger than the other. They were heavy and both of them were scratched with wear. Noticing a few more items inside, Bill carefully shook the remaining contents free.
More photos.
Dejected, Bill examined the images anyway, hoping they might include a clue to something bigger.
One sepia-toned picture was a group shot of a wedding party. Dati was all dressed up and standing next to the bride, a pretty dark-haired lady. Dati looked younger, and very happy.
Bill noted his father's very precise script, written on the backs of next three pictures. Being the smart little boy he was, and already a lover of books at such a tender age, Bill had no trouble reading the captions on each color shot.
Tamara, was written on the photo of a willowy girl in her mid-teens. She had dark brown hair.
The next image was a boy of average build, with dark eyes and curling hair. He looked to be as tall as some of the older kids on their street, maybe about ten years or so. The name on the other side read: William.
This made Bill huff with interest, as that too was his name.
The last picture included the title Our Family: Joseph, Shannon, Tamara, & Willie. It featured the bride from the wedding shot, along with the two children already seen in the other two shots, and- Dati.
Bill arranged the four images neatly on the desk blotter, along with the gold rings, and stared at all the objects until his blue eyes grew dry. He didn't know why, but he felt something was majorly wrong with what he was seeing. It started to upset him, and he felt like crying... but big boys, even little bulls, didn't cry. That was the rule in the Adama house.
As if an unsaid prayer were answered, she came into the room.
Tsattie. His most favorite person in all the worlds.
His grandmother Ruth entered the study in her usual brisk fashion. Initially, she had a tight look on her face, however it did not last long.
"You should not be here," she told him sternly. A rare and gentle smile, only reserved for him, belied her consternation.
"I know," Bill replied. The boy continued staring at the photos lying on the desk, and looked up only to compare them in his mind with the framed portraits on a nearby table.
Tsattie followed his gaze and understood perfectly, the child's confusion.
"I knew when the house grew quiet, that you were up to something." The old woman's face grew serious and slightly sad as she stood opposite him. "Your father must know what you've gotten into."
"No!"
"Yes."
"He'll be angry," Bill stated.
"At himself. Not you," Tsattie promised. She came around to join him behind the desk. She looked down at the photographs on the desk and smiled wistfully.
The woman looked like she was going to cry, something he'd never seen her do, and that scared him.
Bill clutched Ruth's hand. Tears brimmed on the dark fans of his eyelashes. "Are you mad at me, Tsattie?"
She smiled again, this time with outward joy. "No, my Little Bull. Never. You fill me with joy. Always. I could not love you any more if you were–"
A white sea tern fluttered outside the window, catching the woman's attention, and cut off her sentence. The mid of day was near upon them, and the view of the Caprican Ocean was as spectacular as ever. Waves crashed upon the beach, and the surrounding trees swayed lazily in the summer breeze.
Though Ruth often grumbled over Joseph's purchase of the land next door to the Graystones, she secretly adored the restorative powers of the Qualai beach community.
"Come," she ordered. "We will go down to the shore and search for the fishermen's glass floats. When we get tired of our little adventure, we'll come back home, and I'll make us some noodles for lunch."
"And then?"
"And then," Tsattie continued, "You will have a nap, like all good Tauron boys of your age."
Bill frowned at the last bit. His lower lip fixed into a position of deep hurt.
"Afterward, we will have Tiger brownies and milk."
At that, Ruth noted an uptick in her grandson's mood. A day of fun would be had for him. Every child deserved to know joy, as there was plenty of opportunity for sadness later in life.
Ruth pinched Bill's cheeks and watched happily as he dashed out of the room, headed for the terrace doors which would eventually lead to the path down to the beach. She knew he would wait for her, thus giving her time to place a much needed phone call.
# # #
When Bill Adama returned to his father's study, hours later, he found the man himself, waiting for him.
"Come in."
The child hesitated at the threshold, trying to gauge the tone and mood of his father's voice. Bill watched as Joe scratched at a yellow legal tablet, while simultaneously pouring over a client's case file.
"You know, contrary to popular opinion, I don't make dinner out of little children," the elder Adama commented lightly. He finished his notes, then put away his work and looked squarely at his son.
Bill entered the room fully, his bare feet were still sandy from his earlier outing at the beach. Thoughtfully he 'rounded his father's desk to stand before the man. "You don't?"
"No." Playfully, Joe swept the child up in his arms and made growling monster sounds. "Appetizers, yes! But dinner, never!"
Bill giggled loudly as his father kissed his cheeks and continued to pretend to be a fearsome, child-eating monster. "Dati!"
"Yes, my son?"
"Why aren't you always fun like this?"
Joe stopped swinging Bill around, and held him close. He was still happy, but his dark eyes were growing serious again. "Because I cannot allow it of myself."
"Why?"
The ages-old question on every child's lips. Why?
Joseph Adama regarded his son thoughtfully, then hoisted him onto his shoulders and carried him over to one of the ceiling-high bookshelves. He motioned for Bill to pull a large leather-bound volume from the collection, and together they adjourned to one of the two sofas in the center of the room.
"Ruth told me you were on a mission in here this morning."
Bill nodded. "I was searching for treasure."
Joe raised a dark eyebrow like the seasoned trial lawyer he was. "And what did you find?"
"Gold rings and some pictures in an envelope."
"You don't say!"
"Yes, Dati. Am I in trouble?"
Joe ruffled his son's unruly black hair. It was long, even by Caprican standards, hanging past his shoulders and curling slightly at the ends. "No- I am. With your mother. And worse yet, your grandmother."
The child puzzled at such a confession. Bill assumed his father answered to no one, but perhaps maybe the Law. And even then, he was not quite sure if that was even the case.
"There are things I've not told you."
Bill huffed quietly, feeling the weight and sadness of Joe's words upon him. "I'm sorry for making you cry, Dati."
Joe wiped away tears that he had not even been aware he'd been crying. "Not all tears are sad ones, Little Bull."
Silently, father and son turned the pages of the aged book. It was filled with more photos of the woman and children found in the secret drawer. Bill watched closely as Joe studied each image and seemed to be re-living the memories of the moments in time.
"Who are those kids, Dati?"
A sad smile bloomed on the man's face. "They are your sister and brother."
Bill nodded solemnly, trying to understand. As far as he knew, he was an only child. "Mami had more babies? Before me?"
Sensing his son's distress, Joe hugged him close, and turned to an earlier grouping of pages in the album.
"You see this lady, here?"
"Uh huh. She's pretty."
Again, Joseph Adama smiled. "Yeah. She sure was."
"Isn't she still?"
After a beat of silence, the elder Adama laughed openly. It was an unusual sound, but one that pleased the child seated next to him. "I'm not sure, son. But if such a possibility exists, I'm sure Shannon is indeed, still as beautiful as the day I first met her."
"Have I ever met her?"
"No. She died before you were born." Joe flipped a few more pages, finding a larger version of the family portrait Bill had found earlier in the day. "You see, before I met your mother, and we had you, I had another family. My first wife- her name was Shannon. That's this lady here. We had two children together, a girl and a boy. Their names were Tamara and William."
"That's my name, too!" Bill interjected.
Joe chuckled, somewhat embarrassed, at the selfishness of naming his second son after his first. "Yes. And is that of your grandfather, as well."
"It's a good name."
Indeed.
Joe held his living son close, and continued telling his story as he turned the pages of the photo album.
"I'm sorry you never met your siblings, Bill. You would have liked them, and they would have adored you. But it was not meant to be. I lost Tamara and her mother in an accident. An explosion, set forth by some very bad people. The pain of losing them was unbearable. Because of that pain, I did some things I will regret forever."
Bill laid his head on his father's chest. "What kinds of things?"
Joseph Adama shook his head. "Someday I will tell you. When you'll understand better. Hopefully by then, I will too." He set the book aside, and leaned back against the pillows of the sofa as Bill continued to cling to him.
"I truly was a monster in those days. It drove me away from your brother, Willie. Thankfully, he had your uncle to be there for him. Sam was the father that I couldn't be, and when Willie was killed, we both grieved as such."
Talk of death and violence didn't faze young Bill Adama. He'd come from a legal family, and the fact that their family also had ties to the Ha'la'tha, didn't hurt either.
"I wish I could play with them," sighed the child.
"So do I."
Father and son sat in silence together, as the final rays of the setting sun faded on the horizon.
"Where's Mami?" Bill asked after some time. The women of the house were missing. Even Tsattie had left, once his father had arrived home.
"She's staying at the apartment in Caprica City tonight," Joe said of his wife. "She said you and I need to have this time together. To be bachelors for the night."
Bill looked at his feet, understanding his father's words and feared the worst. "Are you and her going to get a divorce?" the child asked flat out. He'd recently heard the word being uttered in hushed tones by his parents, and somehow, Bill knew it wasn't a good thing.
"I don't know."
"Do you love Mami? Like your first wife?"
"Do I love your mother?" Joseph Adama repeated the question, seeming to wonder himself. "Yes, son. I do. But no, it is not the same love as the one I had with Shannon." Seeing the beautiful blue eyes of his child darken with pain, he felt the need to clarify further. Reaching into his pocket, the man retrieved a shiny silver object. "You see this lighter?"
The child nodded.
"Your mother gave it to me. It means a lot to me, and I'm rarely without it. You could say it is a treasure of sorts," Joe explained. "Someday it will be yours."
"Cool!"
"Yeah, it is cool. But you know what else your mother gave me?"
Bill dug his hands into his pockets and shrugged his wide shoulders.
"You." Joseph playfully poked his son in the tummy and proceeded to tickle him until the boy was pink from giggling. "You, Bill Adama, are my last child. My last baby. And my last shot at redemption for the things I've done. Fate is not going to grant me a third or fourth chance at being a parent, so that makes you more than special."
"Really?"
"Really," the man chuckled. "I love you, son, beyond words. Never doubt that. Ever. And because I love you, I will always have love for your mother. Just as I will always love my first family. Love differs with each person. You will learn that as you get older."
Satisfied for now, with such an answer, young Bill laid his head on his father's arm and watched as the Green Flash zipped across the line of the ocean.
Eventually, as kids his age are wont to do, his thoughts began to wander to other important matters. His tummy was starting to rumble for dinner, and he was feeling antsy while sitting on the big leather sofa.
"What's a bachelor? Is it like a bacchanalia?"
The elder Adama bit the inside of his cheek. Children. They were such joys. Joe knew in time his relationship with his son would not be like this. Tender moments would be replaced by words of hate and division, once the sins of the father were revealed. Both of them would have to hold onto these memories.
"Of sorts. A bachelor is a man without a mate. A bacchanalia, is oftentimes, where said bachelor goes to find said mate."
"Oh."
"So- what kind of girl are you going to bring me for a daughter-in-law?" Joe teased his youngest.
Bill screwed up his face in deep thought, then answered with authority. "A girl with red hair!"
"A red head? Hmmm. You know they're trouble, don't you?"
"Yeah, but so am I."
"That you are, Little Bull."
Over dinner, they would talk more of his lost siblings, Tamara and Willie. Dati would make him brush his teeth before bed. They would read his favorite book, Muffit's Really Big Adventure. Mami would return in the morning, and Tsattie would be there too- pouring coffee and cutting a pan of freshly baked baklava.
Whatever rift his parents had, would heal over time, but an unseen scar would remain. Eventually a new wound would open between Joe and Evelyn, and their family dynamic would change forever.
Such was life in the Adama household.
