Disclosure: I do not own BSG or any of it's characters, yet they live on in my heart- SO SAY WE ALL!
A/N: This story can either fit in with my Babies series, or easily stand alone. Either way, here's wishing all of you a magical and blessed holiday season!
NEW CAPRICA:
4 Days before Saturnalia (Winter-Solstice)
5 Weeks before Cylon Occupation
The bed, which was really nothing more than an over-sized sand bag set atop a metal framework, was decidedly colder than it had been when Laura Roslin had fallen asleep an hour or so before.
She gingerly moved a hand beneath the covers, and confirmed her suspicions.
Her favorite Tauron Bed-Warmer was missing.
Before Laura could burrow beneath her meager layers of blankets and quilts in hopes of getting warm again, a muted cough could be heard from the far end of the tent. She waited a bit, assuming that the admiral had merely returned from using the community latrine, before calling his name.
A small crash caused her alarm, and she soon changed her tactics.
"Bill? Honey, are you alright?"
Another cough, then the sound of a wet snort... "Yeah," croaked the admiral of the Colonial Fleet.
Laura squinted in the low light before reaching for her glasses on her makeshift bedside table. A softly glowing lantern sat on the overturned empty ammunition crate, along with a book and an insulated flask of drinking water. Quickly, she put on her glasses and turned up the power of the lantern.
Her lover's bulky form was seated on one of her two chairs and huddled around the black metal stove in one corner of the tent. When he didn't say anything more, and even appeared to weave, the former president of the Colonies decided to take action. Laura gathered her hastily cast clothing from the wooden floorboards, dressed, and made her way across the divide of her home.
"Don't," William Adama commanded hoarsely, "Don't come any closer, Laura. I'm sick, and I don't want you to expose you anymore than I may already have." The man's rough declaration soon elicited a deep coughing spasm, followed by a round of short wheezing breaths. He tugged his Fleet-issued camo parka tighter around himself, and made an attempt at pulling on one of his heavy boots. "As soon as I get warm enough, I'm going back to Galactica and ride this out."
Laura kneeled down to face him. She motherly touched his forehead and looked into his runny blue eyes. "Gods, Bill... you're burning up!"
He made a sort of combined snort and cough, then tried to stand but couldn't. "I'm frakking freezing, Laura."
She forced a hand to his chest, and steadied his back with her other hand. Laura could see that he was dressed, for the most part, beneath his parka. He wore jeans, woolen socks, and a thick flannel shirt– unbuttoned and open wide. His dog tags hung around his neck, as usual, but his double tanks were partially stuffed into one of the back pockets of his jeans, making him look like he was ready to play Flag-Pyramid.
"You've got a fever," Laura told him, "And chills. Most likely the flu virus that's going around. Half my class is out with it. This is serious."
"Then I've got to go," the admiral declared. Garnering all of his strength, Bill Adama grabbed his boots and stood suddenly– only to hit the brick wall of his lover. She was outwardly delicate, but decidedly mighty when she chose to be. Which was often.
"No, honey. You're staying right here."
"I don't want to expose you," he repeated his previous statement.
Laura rolled her eyes. "We've shared dinner, a bed, and bodily fluids. Face it, Bill, I've already been exposed. If I'm going to get it, I'm going to get it. But I'm not, so it's back to the rack for you. C'mon."
"But–"
Laura hushed the man with a finger and steered him back to her bed. Along the way, Bill dropped his boots haphazardly and did his best not to cough in Laura's direction. She pushed him down on the mattress, and proceeded to pull off his clothing.
"Planning on taking advantage of me, again?" When his attempt at a joke fell on Laura's deaf ears, Bill grew serious again. "Sweetheart, you really shouldn't be doing this."
"I'm immune," she told him yet again, "Apparently the Hybrid's blood wards off Influenza as well as Cancer. So this is happening, Bill."
Once he was fully naked, Laura pushed him down onto the bed, covered him to his chin, and then proceeded to warm a basin of stored clean water on the stove. She gathered a number of rags she used for wash cloths, and a coveted bottle of pain/fever killer. Finally, with all of her supplies together, she began to minister to her patient.
"Giving Cottle a run for his money?"
"Hopefully my bedside manner is better than his."
Bill chuckled painfully at Laura's reply before swallowing the two white pills she game him, along with a good bit of water. He collapsed back against a stack of pillows with a choked sigh.
Laura waited for the water to cool slightly before wiping down Bill's fevered body with the moistened cloths. She spoke softly to him, soothing words to calm him into much needed sleep. Her mother had done the same for her when she'd been sick as a young child, and Laura had done similar for her two younger sisters after Judith Roslin had passed.
"Feels good..."
Laura hummed in response as she paid special attention to cooling his pulse points, wiping his temples, neck, armpits, wrists, and even the backs of his knees. With a wry smile, she wet her cloth again and wiped his groin. Her amusement quickly died, however, as her close touch to his flaccid sex failed to elicit a response. Normally, Bill could get it up in a blinding snowstorm, which he had proven to her only hours before.
To add emphasis, the vicious wind outside the tent howled and the canvas roof appeared to sag a little more with added snow pack.
"You are sick," Laura sighed with worry.
Bill snored wetly, in reply.
Setting her work aside, Laura stripped down to her panties and the long-sleeve micro-thermal henley she'd taken to wearing under most of her winter clothing. She slipped into the bed beside Bill, felt his forehead one last time, and then settled her head between his shoulder and an empty corner of the pillow.
Sleep came to her... eventually.
Laura hugged herself as she waited outside her tent. Watery sunshine lit the sky with an overcast brightness as snow continued to fall on the settlement. A number of her students continued the snowball fight they'd started the day before, thoroughly enjoying their Winter Solstice break.
"Hey, Miz Roslin," shouted 14-year old Jackson, "Sorry about hittin' you and the admiral yesterday! I was aimin' for Katie, but you guys got in the way."
The schoolteacher smiled, despite the worry about her lover, in the back of her mind.
Laura and Bill had been walking back from the shipyard, the day before, when they'd inadvertently been ambushed by a barrage of snowballs. The admiral had just arrived via his Raptor for a week-long shore leave, in celebration of the upcoming Saturnalia holiday. He and Laura were going to mark the Solstice together- their first major holiday spent together since the Groundbreaking-Colonial Day festivities a few months prior. Feeling no harm done and in the mood for a bit of competitive fun, Bill teamed up with the 10-year old Katie, and Laura with Jackson, as they assailed each other with a barrage of snowy ammo. The fight was fierce, with each team making well-connected strikes, but ended in a draw when both children were called away by their mother to help carry home her market purchases. Together, in the middle in the busy New Caprica street, the older couple embraced in a deep and consolatory kiss, and barely made it to Laura's tent before they were arrested for public indecency.
She still had the whisker burn on her upper lip to prove it.
"Cottle, you son of a bitch, get here now," Laura said under her breath amid a cloud of vapor.
A beat later, the object of her frustration was standing in front of her. Cigarette glowing in the corner of his mouth, the doctor greeted her with overt cheerfulness, "You rang, Young Lady?"
"Get in here," Laura ordered as she dragged Cottle into the warmth of her tent.
Seeing his new patient buried beneath the pile of covers, the doctor made his way to the bed. "How's it going, Bill," Cottle asked as he dug into his bag for his stethoscope.
"I'm sick."
"That's what I hear."
Laura joined them, hovering with worry. "It came on last night, all of a sudden," she explained, "Fever, chills, cough, runny nose, sore throat. Classic signs of the virus."
"You went to Medical School? Overnight, did ya," Cottle sassed as he put on his exam gloves, "What's his temp, Dr. Roslin?"
"I don't know," Laura admitted with a frown, "I don't have a thermometer, so I'm not really sure. It seemed to go down a bit in the night, but it's back up again this morning."
Cottle harrumphed, then turned back to his patient. "Can you sit up, Old Man?"
"Yeah."
The doctor threw back the covers to help Bill up, and his eyebrows shot up. "You've got a naked man in your bed, Young Lady," he told Laura.
Before she could answer, Bill chuckled and did as he'd been told. "That's how she likes me," he explained to Cottle while he moved his legs to the side of the bed. His head throbbed and the tent seemed to spin. The floorboards beneath his bare feet felt cold and rough.
"You don't say," Cottle replied knowingly in Laura's direction. He stuck a thermometer under his patient's tongue, and waited patiently as the schoolteacher's lips thinned.
"Yeah," Bill huffed a minute later as Cottle read the results and whistled at the 100.4 degree readout, which was rather high for an adult. The doc next checked his throat and listened to his chest. "I'm her sex slave when on-world," Bill said of Laura, in between breaths for Cottle's exam, "Has she told you about our little project?"
"Uh, no."
Laura turned from ivory to pink to red in three seconds flat.
"We're working on making a baby," Bill stated proudly, then added, "Seeing as you're her doc, I'm sure you know the Hybrid's cure also put Laura back on the rag."
Cottle winced at the memory of that conversation while in his private office on the Galactica, shortly before the presidential election.
"Yes."
"Well, we've been making like bunnies ever since Groundbreaking. That is, when I get the chance to get down here and... spread my seed..."
"He's delirious," Laura declared from the other side of the bed.
"It was Laura's idea," Bill went on, "She told me she wanted to give me a daughter. I told her that I had Kara, but she insisted, and well, when a beautiful woman wants to frak your brains out and then put a pretty little baby girl in your arms, it's kinda hard to say 'no.'"
Cottle looked from Bill to Laura, then back again to Bill. The doctor had seen Laura visiting the oracle's tent a number of times, often emerging from the session with a packet of herbs or a vial of potion. Cottle crushed out his cigarette on the floor and sighed, then helped his patient lay back against the pillows. "No, he's not."
"Yes, he is," Laura whined, "Normally he wouldn't be talking like this. It's the fever."
"Possibly," Cottle harrumphed to the schoolteacher. To Bill, the older man asked, "What's your full name, rank, and serial number?"
"William Joseph Adama. Admiral. 204971."
"What's your call sign?"
Bill huffed, "I don't have a call sign."
"See? He's delirious," Laura insisted with broad gestures.
"I don't have a call sign," Bill clarified, "I have two call signs."
Cottle laughed openly, while Laura fumed. Granted, the woman had more than likely very little sleep over the course of the night and had to be exhausted, still he couldn't help but enjoy the moment. To Bill, he continued his questioning, "And they are?"
"Husker, when I'm in the cockpit, and Galactica Actual, when I'm in the CIC."
The doctor reached in his pocket for a new cigarette, while smirking to Laura. "Good news, Bill, you passed the test. You're not out of your mind with fever. In fact I'm glad you have a fever. It, along with your swollen tonsils, shows your body's fighting this thing. Still, I worry with your lack of a spleen you might not kick this as easily as I'd like. You need to get upstairs to a more sterile environment as Sick Bay. Ishay can monitor you, give you fluids, etcetera."
"No," Bill protested despite his declaration the night before about wanting to leave, "If what I have is as serious as you say, then I don't want to risk exposing any of my crew. Their numbers are few, but I can't risk anyone getting sick and possibly dying."
"Figured you'd say that," drawled Cottle, "Then let me give you some antibiotics to boost the war."
"Nope. Save them for someone else. I've got this."
"Figured you'd say that, too."
Laura could take no more, and interjected herself into the conversation, "Bill, please. Take the meds. You need them. You're Tauron, not Saggitaron. You're a military asset, the Fleet needs you-"
"And apparently Laura needs you as well," Cottle couldn't help but add with wry irony, "For stud."
"Good one, Doc," Bill croaked horsely.
"He's having the meds. Give them to him now," Laura demanded with the air of her former presidential position. "I don't care what you say, Bill's not thinking clearly. Or else he's just being a stubborn bull. Either way, he needs the medication. Please, Sherman."
Her use of his first name cut Cottle to the center of his hardened heart. "Technically, the only person I can take orders from is the patient himself. After that, the choice goes to his son, and then... Baltar."
Laura snorted at the mention of their current president.
"I don't want Lee or Baltar to know that I'm sick," Bill interjected weakly from his prone position in the bed. "Lee will get mad, I'm sure, and his new bride will worry. Baltar will only see my illness as a sign of weakness."
"Then I'm making the decision," Laura declared, yet again.
"What are you– his wife now?!"
Cottle's flippant query caught both Bill and Laura off guard. The admiral smiled, while the school teacher paled.
"No," Laura demurred with a quiet growl that rivaled that of her lover, "But I am his future Baby Mama, so what I say goes. Got it?!"
"Uh huh."
In a coordinated instant, Laura grabbed Bill by his dog tags and rolled him in the bed to face her. Cottle quickly readied a syringe with antibiotics, pulled back the bed covers, and jammed the needle into his patient's naked butt.
Bill winced with pain at their duplicitous act, but was rewarded with a quick kiss on the forehead by his favorite redhead.
"All done, Lover Boy," Cottle teased as Bill rolled to his back and glared up at him. "Anything else I can do for ya? Some little blue pills, maybe?"
The admiral glared up at his major. "Well, now that you mention it, I have to use the chamber pot."
Laura laughed for the first time since Bill had gotten sick.
"That's okay, Doctor," she said with a dismissive hand, "I can help him. I did so last night. It was alright- I just pulled the bucket up to the side of the bed while he sat there and peed into it."
"I have to take a crap," Bill declared unceremoniously, "I've had to go for awhile, but I don't want Laura to help me. I'm weak, but not that weak."
Cottle sighed and put his medical bag down. He donned a new pair of exam gloves, and reminded himself why he became a doctor in the first place.
To help people.
Laura quietly excused herself to let Cottle help Bill take care of his business.
Outside the tent, she took in the activity of the street. People moved to and fro, readying themselves for the coming holiday. It wasn't nearly as festive as it was back in the Colonies, but it was something to look forward to at least. Most appeared to be making an effort for their children, singing familiar standards of the season, shopping for a homemade treat from a vendor, or just taking the time to be with them in the moment.
Maya, Laura's teaching assistant, passed by with her baby daughter Isis, who took in the sights with wide eyes. Tory, Laura's other assistant, strode with them and even cracked a smile as the child sucked and slobbered on a ceremonial wax doll.
Galen and Cally Tyrol strolled the street, hand in hand, and anxious about their impending son's birth.
Howard 'Boxey' Boxman, who was on the last Raptor off of Caprica during the Fall of the Colonies, walked side-by-side with his adoptive mother. Both wore genuine expressions of love for each other, on their faces.
Laura hugged herself from the cold. Would she and Bill be parents to a new baby in a year's time? The thought scared her as much as it warmed her heart.
"The patient's gonna live, I think," Cottle told her as he arrived suddenly from behind, having exited her tent with a tightly sealed yellow haz-mat bucket, "And I won't even charge you extra to dump his shit."
"Thank you, Doctor."
The man took note of her quiet and worried tone, and nodded appropriately. "Call me if he gets worse, so we can get him upstairs to Sickbay. Okay?"
"I will."
Cottle took a few steps to leave, then turned to face Laura who continued to stand outside her tent, while still hugging herself. He was going to chastise her for trying to get pregnant, but then he thought better of it. Maybe it was just the holiday spirit invading his old heart, but the young lady knew what she was doing. And after seeing so many happy cherubic faces on the street, who was he to judge her for simply wanting a piece of the holiday picture for herself and the admiral?
He'd dump the shit, and say nothing.
Everyone needed something to live for.
"Bill?"
The patient rolled over and gave something that sounded like an affirmative reply from beneath the covers.
"I know that you're tired, but I really think that you should get up and try walking a bit. It's not good to lay in bed all day and have the mucous take root in your lungs. You need to move around, and maybe even have some lunch..."
"Don't feel like it."
Laura rolled her eyes at her lover. Who knew he could be such a baby, when sick?
"We have soup," Laura offered cheerfully.
"No!"
The teacher bit her lower lip, while trying not to laugh.
"I think you'll like it. Kara made it, just for you."
Bill's head emerged from beneath the covers. "She did?"
"MmmmHmmm."
When the admiral threw back the covers and attempted to get out of bed, Laura went to him. Thankfully, he let her help him dress, and after a few wobbly tries, Bill made it to the table with her gentle assistance.
"Kara said that if I tried to make this, you'd probably end up dying of food poisoning."
Bill looked up at his lover as she placed a bowl of steaming chicken soup before him. It lacked the noodles that his Tsattie always put in her recipe, but it smelled just as good, and he said so.
"The fact that you can smell, now, is a very good sign," Laura noted as she joined him at the table with a small bowl of her own. She kept her portion meager, wanting the majority of the soup to go to Bill's recovery, and delighted in his quick askance for another helping. "I think the antibiotic that Cottle gave you, is working."
Bill grunted, hoarsely. "Yeah, but my ass still hurts from the shot. You don't play fair, Teach."
Laura kissed his forehead, as she went to the stove to fetch the hot water for their tea. "Nope."
While drinking their tea, the couple played a few hands of Triad and talked about everything and nothing. Despite Bill's sickness, they made the most of being together, and actually had a rather nice day.
It was just good to be together, no matter what.
Eventually, Laura could see that Bill's burst of energy was fading fast. The virus was still in him, and with a full belly of warm soup and healing tea, sleep was just around the corner for him.
As Laura guided her lover back to bed, he couldn't help but make a confession to her.
"I love you, Laura."
She hummed as she tucked him in. "I know you do, Bill. And I–"
He was so tired that he didn't even hear her speaking, and continued to mumble somewhat coherently.
"Sorry I ruined... holiday..."
Tenderly Laura shushed him, and placed a kiss to his still overly warm temple. Her stubborn bull was out like a light, and she couldn't help herself from revealing what had been residing in her heart for more than awhile.
"I love you, Bill. I love you more than you'll ever know."
The man snored in reply.
Laura smiled as she joined him in the bed, beneath the covers. Their dirty lunch dishes still needed to be washed, and the tent could be tidied up a bit, but all of that could wait. Bill needed her, and in truth– she needed him.
"I've come to realize that I don't want to do this without you," Laura stated in a firm whisper. "A cabin... a baby... all of it... I don't want to settle this miserable rock without you, Husker. When you're not here, life is barely tolerable– but when you are, everything is worth it, just to be with you. So, please, Bill... you've got to get better. Okay? Because, I love you... truly... and with every fiber of my being."
Laura hummed, as she kissed her lover's roughly stubbled cheek, and then joined him in a long winter's nap.
The aroma of the brewing coffee was truly wonderful, and it caused the admiral to smile.
He was grateful to be able to smell...
And to be alive...
Bill Adama poured his lover a cup, and brought it to her in bed. It was Saturnalia Morning, and Laura was still sleeping. The sight made him smile, as he sat on the edge of the bed and watched her lovingly.
She'd taken such good care of him during his sickness. The majority of the lead-up to the holiday had been spent with her tending to him– like a healing angel, and he vowed to make the remaining hours they had together very special indeed.
They would go skating at their lake, which was now frozen solid, in the wintery cold weather...
And then make love in a cozy and warm igloo, being constructed for them, in that very moment by Tyrol and Anders...
Bill's official Saturnalia gift to Laura was a set of blueprints he'd drawn in his off-duty hours aboard Galactica. The subject, of course, was her dream cabin...
Where he hoped they would make a life someday– and a family.
Laura stirred, as Bill mused on all of his plans, and eventually woke to see him smiling at her, from his seat on the edge of her bed.
"Good morning."
Laura waited to return her lover's greeting, and instead asked, "How are you feeling?"
Bill chuckled, then kissed her tenderly. "All back to normal."
The teacher hummed against his lips, then upon their parting, noted in warm reply, "Then it is indeed, a very good morning."
They kissed again, then wished each other a happy Saturnalia.
"I have your gift," Bill said as he fetched the rolled blueprints for Laura, from his duffle bag, and then presented them to Laura.
The drawings made the teacher cry.
"My Gods, Bill... these are beautiful... you are an artist!"
The man blushed. "Kara's the artist. I'm just good with a pencil."
Laura's heart swelled as she studied the plans. The cabin was tidy and perfect with a kitchen that spilled into the living area, and a bedroom with a view of the lake. A second room, next to the master, was smaller in size, and marked with one word in Bill's handwriting.
Nursery.
"With all of the busy lead-up to the holiday, and then your flu, I wasn't able to get you a present," Laura confessed after finding her words after carefully rolling up the blueprints for their future home.
Bill shook his head, and then kissed Laura again.
They made love, eventually, and later as Bill watched Laura catch up on her much needed sleep, he smiled contentedly.
The past couple of days had been a sickly fevered blur, but he did remember one thing, very clearly...
Laura loved him.
Even if she was not ready to say the words directly to his face, he'd always known it in his heart. Someday she would tell him again, and for real. Perhaps it would be when they married– or if the gods were willing, when she held their child in her arms for the first time.
Marriage, or no marriage...
Baby, or no baby...
Laura Roslin loved Bill Adama...
And that was the very best present that he could ever could ask for.
#END#