The back of her hands bare the spots she once observed on her mothers skin. Toward the end, the wrinkles over her mother's body made it seem like she had aged three times as fast. Now she notices it's happening to her too. It's all she can think of for a few seconds between breaths, as she leans her head on her hands, and lets her tears moisten her dry skin. The majority of her being rides the wave of ecstatic emotions that accompany finally finding Earth. She can rest now.
When she picks herself back up and straightens her suit, she watches him from across the CIC. He hugs Lee for a long time. She cannot keep the endearing smile from her face. She realizes she's never seen him in civilian dress. The thought pops into her head like a random flash of light. Her eyes widen at its possibilities. She hasn't allowed herself to think this way for years. She always thought it might have happened had New Caprica not turned into a toaster party. She always pictured her cabin a cabin for two. But New Caprica hadn't lasted. Her religion was her hope after that, her faith. It was never him again.
People yell around her, hug others, cry into their palms. The destiny of the human race is no longer on her shoulders. All she can think of now is how much she wants to shower off Baltar's blood. She'll have to get a new shirt. Maybe she'll get rid of all of her suits and heels; retire happily in the sweatshirt she had found in New Caprica's measly little market, the only comfortable clothing she had managed to get off the planet.
Her legs carry her out of the CIC of their own accord. She can hear jubilation all over the ship. It echoes down the familiar hallways. She would scream herself if only her lungs weren't so tired. She makes her way to his quarters. Her marine detail hasn't followed her this time. He'll probably reprimand them for not protecting her even though it's unlikely anything will happen. But that's what Bill Adama does – he guards her, finds her, guides her. He guides her, she realizes. Another smile crosses her face as she steps inside his room. She's always enjoyed the detailed red carpets.
Her shoes slip of her feet. Her suit jacket falls off her arms and heavily hits the floor. Those wrinkled hands she keeps noticing shakily unbutton her blouse, letting it gather into the waste bin. Some of the blood lies splattered across her abdomen and she marvels at how that must have happened. She traces the dry, crusty red lines before unbuttoning her pants and letting them fall as well. Everything has become too baggy on her. She moves to the head while unclasping her bra and pulling off her underwear. She turns on the hot water as the mirror catches the reflection of her pale skin. She looks at her dull outline. She almost has a blue tint. The veins in her arms glow unnaturally. Her ribs protrude, each one a testimony to her illness. Her breasts hang disgraced, the left slightly swollen underneath where the mass lies. It pulses further from its alien-resting place as she lifts her arms to untie her scarf. She slips the scarf off her head and places it on the sink, the blue reminding her of his eyes. She smiles again even though she's looking at her completely hairless body with a bit of revulsion. The steam starts to fill the room and she thinks she really does resemble her mother now.
The hot water creates belts on her skin. She has no hair to wash so she just lathers her hands with his soap and runs them smoothly over her body. It's the same generic soap given to all of Galactica but for some reason, it smells of him specifically. She thinks she wants to cry more. She has spent years boxing her emotions, shouldering her responsibility, thinking with a clear head. But her body won't allow any more tears. She is numb. Normally she wouldn't stand this long in the shower. She would think that she shouldn't waste water supply – years on the run have engrained habits in her. But they have found Earth. They have found more water so she stays under the hot steam. She lets it whip her bare skin like a bittersweet lash. Soon enough she sinks to the cold tiled floor of the shower, her legs too tired to hold her. They shake. She sits there, her eyes closed, her only feeling that of the water. It's better that way, she thinks. She cannot handle the emotional mixture of finding Earth and knowing she's close to her own death.
She doesn't hear him come through the hatch to his quarters. He sees her clothes scattered like a crumb trail to the head and he can't help but smirk. His quarters have been hers in all but name since he first went after her on Kobol. He feels the need to tell her that's when he first fell in love with her. He spontaneously unbuttons his jacket and shrugs it off, laying it across his desk as he makes his way through her carelessly laid path. His shoes kick off next, followed by his socks and then his belt. He quietly steps through the threshold and into the steam filled room. At first glance, he's confused. But then he sees her, crumpled on the tile floor, the hot water running over her baldhead and down her body. His pace quickens and he finds himself kneeling down to her, the water soaking through his tanks and pants. She looks up at him. Her expression makes his chest ache. His first instinct is to call for Doc Cottle but something in her eyes tells him that she's not in need of medical attention. She's in despair. He puts his arms around her torso and lifts her to her feet. She's still shaking so he pins her gently against the shower wall with his own body. He holds each side of her head, rubbing his right thumb over her cheek. He sees her swallow hard.
"You are so beautiful, Laura."
She hums deep in her throat and he can feel her fingers tightening around his biceps. He can't tell if her face is wet or she's crying. He kisses her forehead, right above where her eyebrow used to be, where he's always kissed her. He feels her body slack even more into his and he continues to plant kisses over face. He reaches her lips, noticing they had formed into a light smile: her smile.