This is it

by MTraverAndujar

Bill and Laura find a different Earth. Their own.

DISCLAIMER: I don't own BSG, Laura or Bill. If anything, they own me.

Bill stops by the door to her quarters, his hand on the hatch, hesitating. He wonders if he should knock first, announce his visit somehow. Not that she bothers to do so before entering his quarters anymore: their confidence and their trust are long past that. However, Laura has had the chance (he has gladly given her that chance) to make herself at home in his place over the last few months, maybe years. Even if she is no longer living with him, even if she moved in for a few weeks at the beginning of her treatments and then out later for the sake of decorum (or maybe also because she was not completely ready to acknowledge her feelings or to act on them) Bill knows his quarters are the only place in the whole fleet (hence in the entire universe, at least for now) where Laura allows herself to relax completely, a safe harbor where she can be herself. She has not told him that much. Not yet, anyway. However, he can clearly read it in her demeanor, in the nuances of her voice, in the lines of her face, in her posture, in the gestures of her hands. In all the telltale signs: her all-too-quickly discarded shoes, often abandoned nowhere to be seen, her suit jacket hanging lazily from the back of a chair, her shirt freed from the waist of her skirt. This powerful, independent woman has found shelter with him, in his room, among his meek but comfortable belongings. And he takes pride and a deep, intimate joy in it.

He is not sure he will be welcome, though. Her last interaction with him has consisted of a peck on his lips in the middle of the corridor and a straight order to get out of her way a moment after, softly but determinedly pushing him aside. The message is confusing. The meanings are mixed up.

He releases the air he is holding back, spins the wheel and opens the hatch.

A warm, yellowish light reveals her presence even before he actually sees her. He spots her in a corner of the couch, legs curled up over the cushions, glasses perched on the tip of her nose, a book open between her hands. One he recognizes: she must have picked it from his bookcase at some point. He lets an inner smile spread in is gut thinking, for a second, of how he has come to find more and more empty spaces in his shelves over time. It is not her fault: he made it clear they were gifts and showed nothing but delight when she finally thought it unnecessary to politely ask first or to let him know at least. She eventually returns them. He would not mind otherwise.

Laura is reading under the dim light of a table lamp. This single bulb and a few lit candles cast long shadows over the scarce furniture and the walls, playing with their shapes. She does not look up but her eyebrows arch and he takes it as her acknowledgment that he is there.

"May I come in?"

Her answer comes a couple of seconds after: short enough to make him feel genuinely welcome, long enough to make him wonder if she might actually have hesitated for a moment before letting him in or maybe she was just finishing a line or a chapter.

"Sure."

Her voice comes out gentle and natural, but guarded.

He enters and closes the hatch behind him.

"I mean, it depends."

Bill has just taken two steps into the room. He freezes in place and glances at her. She is staring at the page in front of her eyes as if the key to all the mysteries of the universe could be found in it. She is not reading anymore. She is simply refusing to look back at him. And it frakking hurts. That is, for a split second, until the barely teasing note in her tone registers with him along with a soft warning.

"I presume you are looking for the President."

At least he knows how to reply to this question disguised as an affirmation. He is only too grateful he can answer with the truth.

"Well, not really. I was not expecting to find her here."

And yes, now Laura closes the book leaving her thumb between the pages. She lifts her head and shoots him a glance. Her eyes have come alive. He grins. She smiles.

"Good. Because she is not here."

"Tell her I said Hi when you see her."

"If I see her, you mean."

"Yeah. If."

Bill makes his way to the couch and stands by her side.

"What are you reading?"

He reaches out and she hands him the volume. He is careful to slide a finger between the pages in the exact place she had placed her thumb. He does not want her to lose track.

Not anymore.

He examines the book, caresses its spine and the letters engraved in the cover while he slowly sits on the couch beside her. He seems lost in thought for a few seconds. Then he finally returns the book to her. Laura closes it and places it on the table without bothering to mark her reading point. She is no longer afraid of losing track, it seems.

Her eyebrows rise impossibly high when she sees him unbutton his tunic, lean back on the couch and squirm searching for a comfortable posture. He grunts softly, like a pain is piercing his back.

"Doesn't your shift start in a few minutes?"

"Saul is taking over."

"Have we found the Hitei Kan already?"

We. She regrets that slip of her tongue. She is not involved in the search. She does not want to be. Not anymore. And she does not want to give him false hope.

"Not yet. But we are getting there."

A weary undertone tinges Bill's voice as if it really did not matter anymore, as if that was all the explanation he would care to provide. Laura looks at him in awe, momentarily unable to put her thoughts into coherent words. Is her Admiral quitting, too? Even worse, is she the one to blame for that? She realizes she possibly cannot expect he will just carry on without her support and her partnership like nothing has happened but she would never do this to him. She would not...

He turns towards her. A warm, confident smile spreads across his features and Laura understands she should have known better. The man in front of her is not a desperate one. Maybe just a heavily burdened, an exhausted one. She sighs with relief.

"Are you… staying?"

She intended a question: it comes out as a plea.

He nods.

"This is, if you don't change your mind and kick me out."

Laura tilts her head, eyes narrowing and a dangerous smile tugging at the corners of her lips.

"I have no reason for that, have I?"

Bill lifts his head from the back of the couch. Their eyes meet: the bridge between their souls is tended again. For a few seconds, he just watches her. Her face is glowing under the fringe of her scarf which brings out the green in her eyes making them look like living emeralds. He knows this is a farce, a mirage, a weak attempt at a fairytale, a miracle never meant for them. He knows their grief will be unbearable when they wake up. He does not feel inclined to regret it, though. Not right now.

He will just plunge into it. He will do it holding her hand.

He reaches out and places his palm on her cheek. Laura leans her head against it.

"I came to be with you, Laura."

She closes her eyelids with force and her face contracts while she lets his words sink in. Now she is suddenly holding back tears and she wonders where this salty tide was a moment ago. She purses her lips, then parts them just enough to let out a deep breath. After a few moments, she composes herself, straightens her back, takes her glasses off, folds them and places them neatly over the book.

The last barrier is down.

Bill sits up mirroring her movements, waiting for whatever she does next. After a second, she turns to him again. She opens her mouth, then she just closes it again with a sigh. His eyes are undoing her, completing the task his presence and his words started the moment he came in. She places a hand on his chest, under the tunic. She feels his heart. It is pounding, it is strong. It is safe.

She already knew.

"This is it, Bill. This is all we have. This is what I live for. I need no frakking Earth."

Her voice is a broken whisper. His eyes soften, wet and shiny, as he nods. This is Laura, and she is as fragile as a bird with broken wings and tough as the toughest rock and she is amazing and he loves her. He loves her in a way that makes him understand that, at his age, he had not really known love yet. He loves her and she loves him back, and he should have figured this out much earlier, if not for himself, at least for her. He should have found a way to fit this in, and no, it was not just the lack of time and the burden of their shared responsibilities. It was pure fear of feeling again at the end of the world. As if they could not afford that. As if the risk involved was much bigger than any destruction the cylons could ever inflict on them. And it was just a plain mistake.

Even the fleet would have no hope with hopeless leaders. Bill and Laura need something to live for in the first place. They have been denying this to themselves for too long. She to him, he to her.

She has been dying for years now.

Only an hour ago, he was still resisting.

He takes both her hands in his, kisses her knuckles.

"I'm sorry, Laura."

"No. Don't be. You're here."

Both stay silent, letting the walls echo her last, promising words. Then he grins and her eyes open wider and he knows she is curious and wondering why his somber mood seems to have lightened suddenly.

"And I can dance."

Slowly, he stands up and offers her his hand. She remembers. Yes, she does. She can tell she was faintly attracted to him back then already but she only realized it much later, when she finally admitted to herself how she had come to long for the warmth of his hand in hers, the surprising gentleness of his movements, the pressure of his fingertips on her back guiding her across the floor, that clean scent of his which she noticed for the first time that night. It was such a long time ago that it feels like someone else's life.

Laura bites her lower lip and Bill can see her trembling as she accepts his invitation. He lifts her from the couch as much as she rises herself. Her legs are sore from the run. That is not the only reason they might not allow her to stand up.

Not letting go of her hand, Bill pushes a couple of chairs aside and clears up some space for them to move. Then he pulls Laura to him gently. His right hand finds her waist above the elastic of her sweatpants while his left keeps holding hers, lacing their fingers and adjusting their position. They start rocking back and forth. It feels a bit clumsy and insecure at first. They smile at each other.

It could not matter less.

Bill pulls her closer and she willingly lets him. When he releases her hand and links both of his own on the small of her back holding her in a tighter embrace, she puts her free arm around his shoulders and laces her slender fingers together on the back of his neck. This strong intimacy makes her a little giddy. She feels his breath tickling the skin below her ear, one of his hands stroking her back, up and down. He makes her feel so cherished, so precious. She cannot remember a time when she felt like this in the past. She leans on him further. She wants to feel his heartbeat, his pulse, she wants to melt into him until she can no longer tell where she ends and he begins.

Bill tries to ignore the way her spine outstands, her prominent ribcage, how small her frame seems to be now it is entirely surrounded by his own. She is not much more than a lean flesh and thin bone structure which still resists upright somehow and he marvels at how warm and familiar not just her curves, but all her edges feel. He will hold her up with the sheer force of his arms if that is what it takes.

"I miss the music." she murmurs.

"We could sing." he offers.

"I'm not a very good singer, you know."

She hears him chuckle.

"OK. I'll start then. You can sing along with me."

Just like that, he intones a soft ballade which was among his favorites back in Caprica. It suddenly strikes him how he had just forgotten about this tune since the attacks and how easily its notes and verses flood his memory again now, triggered by the energy of the moment. Triggered by her, as if she is offering his warmest memories back to him as a gift.

Laura hums the rhythm by his ear.

"You know, maybe it is better that I keep singing alone."

Before he can blink, Laura pinches the short hairs of his neck.

"Ouch. So much for agreeing with you."

Laura releases the tuft of hair and relaxes her hands behind his neck again. He knows she is smiling.

"You know, you don't sing that bad. You just seem a bit… breathless."

He says it so tenderly, so seriously, she does not dare to explain she was not always breathless. That did not use to be the problem.

Bill resumes the melody. They sway back and forth. Her chin on his shoulder, Laura no longer hums and, after a short while, Bill is no longer singing either. He just cannot keep singing when he is about to engage his mouth in something else he does not have the willpower or the need to postpone any longer. He leans over and lets his lips stroke the sensitive skin below her ear. Laura gasps. He sucks gently and starts tracing a wet trail down to the base of her neck. He feels Laura's entire body shiver while she tilts her head to grant him access. Gods, they have just got this started and she is melting already.

But she will not let him turn her into jelly just yet. Not with the sudden image that has just formed among the fog already clouding her mind, along with an impending question.

When Laura pushes him back he pretends he has not noticed it. Then she pushes further and Bill understands she will not let him pretend. He should have known that. Releasing her a little but not quite letting go, he searches for her eyes. She averts them. His concern rises sharply. At least her arms are still resting around his shoulders. She is not plainly rejecting him, she just needs…

"Bill…"

"What, Laura? What's wrong?"

She swallows.

"I don't want to drag you into this. Not if you don't want it, too."

Bill gapes suddenly at a loss for words. His eyes darken as a shadow descends over his features.

"No, no. I do not doubt you, Bill. I trust you. I'm just saying I don't want you to do it just because you think you owe me or because I'm… you know, dying. If you'd rather not do this I'll have it, whatever the reason. And I won't question your feelings."

"Laura…"

He shakes his head from side to side and Laura cannot tell if he is saying no or if he simply cannot believe what he has just heard. Both options feel reassuring, a balm to her soul anyway. He takes his time before speaking. She does not fill that silence with her own words. She watches him instead. That is usually much more effective. If she is lucky enough and he offers her his eyes, she will read the truth in them instead.

"I might… I might not be here now if you had not shaken me in the corridor earlier. I admit it. But this does not mean I don't want this. It just means… it just means I had not noticed it was time to quit waiting. To quit making you wait. To try and do things differently, think of us for once... Or maybe…"

He trails off. After a second, a coy grin spreads across his features.

"Maybe I wanted my President's permission to proceed."

She smiles mischievously. He cradles her head with his hands, caresses her cheeks. She places her hands in his waist and turns serious once more.

"Bill, I know we're running out of time. We won't have many more chances to be… together like we want to be. I just wanted to make that clear but I'd never… I want this to be for the right reasons, also for you."

"Laura."

He tenderly cuts her off.

"Since we have agreed the President is not here, may I just order you to shut up…?"

She tilts her head back and bursts into laughter. Bill watches her, dreamy and momentarily mesmerized. Laura does nothing but laugh heartily as he delivers his first, playful order to her. Yes, they have come this far. And he feels so fulfilled for being able to bring her laughter to life. And her neck exposed like that is just too tempting not to caress it with his lips one more time.

He cannot help himself.

He does.

She gasps again, low and long and almost agonizing as if she cannot hold anything back while he keeps sucking gently, refusing to leave her skin. Her fists cling to his belt for balance. When she cannot take it anymore and moves to look at him again, all sparkling eyes and flushed cheeks, when she lifts her hands and lovingly traces the scars in his face with her fingertips, he cradles her head, leans forward and finds her lips.

Nothing has happened yet but it is too late to prevent it already.

It starts like the few kisses they have already shared, like the faint echo of a caress barely there, almost feather- like. They revel in the feel. There is no need to rush, there is no hurry. Time just slows down when you stop chasing it, Bill reminds himself. He will not let this come and pass. He plays the chords in the right order: just lips stroking lips at first, then a silent request for permission to go deeper, then his tongue sliding into her mouth, charting the newly found territory, and lazily engaging hers in a dance all too similar to the one their tangled bodies had created minutes before. His tongue, drawing hums from her throat that put a strange fire in his veins, a new sound he immediately catalogues top of the list of his most beloved ones. He proceeds slowly, carefully, bringing focus and attention to every detail. To make Laura understand, to make her forget.

To help her let herself loose and make her feel.

She does. Both hands on his chest, fingers outstretched, she meets him step by step, welcomes his unvoiced suggestions, grants all of his wishes and pursues her own. She will let him have his way with her. She knows his way with her will be nothing but the best way for her too. This is her trust, her absolute, unbreakable faith in him. At last, maybe for the first time in her whole life, she is ready to lay down her armor and truly abandon herself.

Her eyelids part enough for her to look up at him when his fingers search for the rim of her scarf, tug at it and remove it. Bill squeezes the piece of cloth within his pocket and cradles her face between his hands. He kisses the crown of her head and pulls away slightly. Their eyes meet. They exchange shy smiles. Laura is not ashamed, that he can tell and is happy for. However, her look is still regretful.

"I wish I had a better body for you. The one I used to have. It was far from perfect but certainly better than this."

"It's perfect, Laura. It's you. If anything, this version deserves even more care and attention."

He sees the tide rise above the edge of her eyelids. The dam cracks at last and a single, meaningful tear finds its way down her cheek. She lifts one hand from its resting place above his chest and brushes it away herself. She has not broken eye contact with him. She sniffles. She is still smiling.

"Come here."

And she finds herself again in the best spot of the whole universe: the circle of his arms. He rocks her and she sobs and then she pulls herself together and stops weeping because this meltdown does not make any frakking sense when she is overwhelmed with joy. Besides, she wants this to be about him too, not just Bill comforting her. Not that she minds it: he is teaching her to receive, to accept. She has just discovered how good it can feel. But she also wants to give him as much as she can. The way she sees it, this is not a caregiver thing: this is a party for two.

She guesses there is nothing bad about letting it be both, anyway.

She lifts her head from his chest and pulls away a little. She does not bother to erase the traces of tears from her own cheeks. Slowly but determinedly, she unbuttons the rest of his tunic. Then she slides her hands over his shoulders and under the thick cloth and pushes it down his arms until it hits the deck with a gentle thud. She opens up her palms and glides them across his chest, over his tank tops, wraps a finger around the chain of his dog tags, then moves them up to his broad shoulders, down his arms. She proceeds in a focused, thoughtful manner, as if she is trying to memorize every single detail. Hands resting on her waist, moved beyond words, Bill patiently waits.

"You're beautiful."

That is her absolute verdict.

"That's unfair. That was supposed to be my line."

Her eyes glint and the corners of her lips lift in response.

Bill divests her of her hoodie mirroring her earlier movements. He caresses her bare arms in passing down to her waist, where he slides his fingers under her plain grey t-shirt. The moment he touches the bare skin of her belly for the first time, she parts her lips without a sound and arches her hips towards him slightly. His thumbs caress her both sides of her navel. His rough skin should not feel so good. It is just too dangerous. He moves his hands up, pushing the t-shirt with them until Laura lifts her arms to allow him to toss it over her head and take it out.

She lets her arms fall to her sides and stays as still as she can below his openly appreciative glance. She is wearing a plain white bra. Nothing sexy, nothing new or special, definitely nothing particularly worthy of being shown off. She wonders what he can possibly be seeing now that she has been missing for years every time the mirror returned her reflection. Then Bill reaches around her back and she leans on him while he unhooks her bra. Once he does, he puts his flat palms on her shoulder blades, covering her paper- like skin with his own for a few seconds, before finally tugging at the straps and removing the piece of clothing.

She knows she possibly should not, she would never admit it, but she is seeking a reaction in his expression. It is Bill's turn now and Laura craves his verdict as she watches him drink her in. He sees a vague anxiety flutter in her green orbs. And he would tell her, Gods he would, if only his mouth had not gone dry, if only he did not need a few seconds to catch his own breath and keep up to his own last actions.

He lifts his hands and stops halfway as if he could not make up his mind to touch her, as if he could not decide how or where to stroke her exactly. Restrained, he finally folds her fingers around her elbows and she places her hands on his forearms in return.

"I want you so much, Laura." he manages at last.

And then, as if it is easier to go on once started:

"I've wanted you so badly, for so long."

She bites her lower lip. He moves a finger between her teeth to make her release it. She sucks it in, then kisses his fingertip. He stiffens and wonders if she can imagine the surge of electricity that simple gesture has sent through his veins.

His hands regain some drive at last and he runs two fingers down the round sides of her breasts. Her chest starts heaving more visibly as he explores, caresses, teases her supple mounds. He lays his palms on them, tests their weight, and squeezes them lightly. All of it seems to get Laura's immediate approval as her eyes become hooded and she presses further towards him. She is over- sensitive, she notes. Maybe it is because of the treatments. Or maybe because it has been so, so long since the last time. Or maybe it is because it is Bill. Maybe it is because this is about the deepest love she can think of and not some mindless frakking.

And then he stops.

He stops and she knows. She is ready for this. She has been expecting it even if it has just caught her off-guard right now. Since her cancer returned she has been certain this would happen if they ever reached this point. He is about to draw her hands back but she holds his wrists and makes them stay right where they are. She softens her grip when she feels the tension in his hands relax. He obeys her and stays but he does not dare to resume his earlier ministrations.

"You will barely feel it. Most of it is inside."

Inside. Out of sight or touch, well camouflaged, the motherfrakker. Hidden right where it cannot be detected until it is just too late, until there is nothing even the Admiral can do to fight him, his worst and most frightening enemy. Well inside her left breast.

Closer to her heart.

His chest aches and a surge of rage burns through him.

"Will it hurt?"

Laura would gladly welcome any pain, this is too low a price to pay for being with Bill at last, but she swallows a lump of gratitude at the fact that he worries. She shrugs.

"It only hurts when it decides to hurt."

His only response is to lean forward and kiss that breast. Laura tilts her head back and whimpers, pressing her eyelids together to hold back the tears threatening to take over her once more. She tangles her fingers in his hair, keeping him there, encouraging him to go on, to show affection to that damaged, aching breast. Encouraging him to show forgiveness to the part of her body that is forced to shelter their worst threat.

The one which will take her life.

He moves to her other breast, because being healthy is no reason to get less attention. He lingers and she writhes in bliss. Then he gets upright. His cheeks are tear- stained but he smiles at her. He would like to tell Laura how he intends to make her body feel whole again, to make her remember how it felt not to be sick, not to need to worry about a monster eating you up from the inside. Since he cannot speak, he will just show her.

He takes her hand and leads her towards the rack. He sits on the edge of the cot and pulls her to him. When she is finally standing between his legs, he presses his lips against her belly which flutters at his contact. His hands move over her hips until he hooks two fingers on the waistband of her sweatpants. She complies as soon as her remaining clothes fall to the floor, stepping out of them, one foot first, then the other, losing also her slippers in the process, leaning on his shoulders to keep her balance.

Like she has always done.

As he strokes the back of her legs, he wonders how many more of his dreams will still come true tonight. He believes Laura capable of bringing all of them to life with no exception. All his dreams are related to her, after all. Even now, completely naked in front of him, she still holds such power over him. And it is a blessing.

He would not have it any other way.

Her tugging at his tank tops shakes him out of his reverie. He lifts his arms as he looks up, just to see her smiling down at him. Laura tosses the tank tops onto the floor and runs her fingertips down the scar that splits his chest in two. Logically, she knew it had to be there but it is a completely different thing to actually see it, to be allowed to touch it. It is right here that he broke; it is also this line which keeps him upright, whole, pulled together. She knows there is something similar to this in his heart. Marks, stitches. Even worse: wounds still open, hurting, bleeding. She feels a wave of tenderness and sits on his lap following an impulse. Bill's arms wind around her waist. She threads her fingers in his hair as he leans his head forward, accepting her caress. Then she runs her nails again down his chest, up his sides. He shivers with anticipation which only makes her smile wider.

Laura steps back to allow him to get rid of his shoes, socks and trousers. She sits beside him, waiting for him to catch up. She absentmindedly reviews the path they have traced across the room, revealed by the book by the table, the chairs pushed back for their dance, and the various spots where their clothes have fallen. They look like beacons of the road to Earth.

To their Earth.

Bill loves he can make her blush with just his glance. Like right now, when she realizes she was lost in her thoughts, quiet and silent, and the fact he was done with his clothes and has been admiring the view in the meantime registers with her at last. Laura arches her eyebrows and narrows the space between her lids and tilts her head as if she is about to admonish him and it shows she is holding back a smile. But there is such tenderness in his ocean blue eyes, and he grins and reaches out to caress her cheek with his knuckles and it is too much and she turns an even darker shade of pink.

He stands to make room for her to move and she pushes herself to the back end of the rack, as far as she can go to leave enough space for him beside her. She lies down on her back and feels the cot sink under his weight. One moment after, his face emerges over hers and comes into sight. It is such a loving face. It warms her inside. His eyes are almost too much for her to handle. He shifts above her and she feels part of his body pressed against her side already. As much as he tries to keep most of his weight off her so as not to make her uncomfortable, she wants to feel his skin against her own so badly.

Bill feels her arms circling his torso and pulling him to her. Her embrace is gentle but resolute. Just like her. And he feels her soft breasts pressing against his chest. He cups her cheek to hold her face still and kisses her slowly, almost languidly, seeing her lashes and her closed eyes between his half- open lids. She welcomes him, she drinks from him. If only she could drink health, life, just like this. She hums when he goes a bit deeper. Her nails trace lines and circles on his back. He knows his desire for her is such that he could quickly reach the peak of his own pleasure if only he lets himself go but he just does not want this party to be over.

Ever.

It will come to an end, eventually. And he swears to the gods he will make sure she gets her fair share of delight before it does.

He leaves her lips alone. Instead, he kisses her eyelids, her cheeks, traces her jaw. She lets her head fall to the side and he immediately takes up the hollow where her neck meets her shoulder. Laura moans. She releases him reluctantly when he pushes down. When she feels his mouth on her breasts again she does not regret it anymore. And he caresses her there; no second thoughts. And he kisses, and sucks, and teases, and continues down to her belly and her navel and then he lingers, and she arches, and shakes, and whimpers and holds the sheets with tight fists.

"Bill…"

She manages to lift her head and look down with clouded eyes. Fingertips caressing the delicate skin of her lower belly, he kneels and smiles back at her.

"Let me give you this, Laura."

She stares at him through half- closed lids like she is having trouble to understand, or considering his offer.

Bill is making her his so completely she is almost terrified.

Almost.

She finally lets her head fall back on the pillow.

Proceed.

I am yours already. I have always been.

Bill understands what this means. What it takes. Especially to a woman like her.

He is humbled.

He will make this worth her trust.

He caresses her legs and watches them for a few seconds, like a treasure longed for years. Then he parts them and finds his place between them. And Laura just cannot stay still when he traces her inner thigh with his lips. He has to hold her hips; he needs to use some gentle force until she relaxes a little under his hands.

He is almost afraid she will say something.

She does not.

Then he starts. And it must be just his lips and fingers but it feels like he is all over her, around, inside. He is a burning tide flowing through her and she arches and her legs start shaking and her thoughts are not coherent anymore. And she desperately searches for something to hold on to, and she craves her release but the rhythm is all for him to set and his grip on her hips is impossibly tight now and Laura no longer belongs to herself.

There is only one thing she can do now.

Let it go.

Laura screams.

She spins out of control as two tears roll down her cheeks. Bill looks up and his breath catches at the sight of Laura, completely undone, hopelessly abandoned, never more beautiful, never glowing brighter. She shakes in such violent way that Bill is afraid she might break. He hastily climbs up her body and she clings to him for salvation, and he rocks her in his arms until her breathing becomes less labored.

"Ssssshhhh…"

When he pulls away a little and pulls her chin up to make her meet his eyes, he sees more tears have fallen.

"Bill…"

Her voice breaks. There are even more tears in it.

She cannot say but his name. She hopes it is enough to make him understand how he just made her feel. It is not just the pleasure.

She pulls him to her again.

I need to feel you.

And I know you need to feel me.

He complies. He shifts carefully until he lies on top of her. He still tries to keep his weight from crushing her. He leans down, kisses the tip of her nose. Laura cups his face with one hand. With the other, she guides him inside. They hold each other's gaze all the way.

Nothing compares to the feel of this woman opening up to him. It is not just about the body: he knows that, in Laura, this means she offers her soul to him, too. And he pushes further, little by little, until he is fully sheathed inside her. He looks for her eyes. She caresses his back, smiles up at him lovingly.

"You feel good." she reassures him.

"It feels so good." he agrees.

Laura closes her eyes. Let this man take her wherever he wants, as long as it is with him. She smiles wider when he increases the pace. Then he starts thrusting harder and faster and she cannot smile anymore. Her senses overload, her lips part to let out the small gasps that keep forming in her throat like tiny steam clouds and she clings to him again, so tightly their two bodies move together like one.

His broad, strong arms are holding her to him, tightly wound around her torso, behind her head. She hides her face in the crook of his neck. He does the same in hers.

"Oh, Laura."

She hears his choked whisper in her ear but she is beyond responding.

Bill rises. Then he falls.

The moment clarity breaks through the numbness in his mind he tries to shift off her but she stiffens and holds him in place and makes it crystal clear she wants him right there. She wants to feel his weight, his flesh, his skin. She wants to keep being nothing but his, deliciously trapped, unable to move until he moves himself.

Just a little longer.

Bill smiles down at her, strokes her cheeks with his thumbs as the air in and out their lungs starts feeling less of a panting and more of a normal breathing. They sink in each other's eyes. Then he finally slides out and off her slowly, letting his limp body fall between hers and the wall. They shift and turn searching for a comfortable posture. Laura giggles as they tangle and untangle their limbs, their arms. Somehow, the cot seems narrower now they only intend to sleep than it felt before, when they were about to do what they have just done.

At last, Laura gives him her back and cuddles against him and this seems to be the best move. He pulls his arm over her hip, around her waist. They close their eyes and open them again when the phone buzzes just a few seconds after. Laura is amazed they have been left in peace for so long but that does not mean she will easily give up and let it be over. As soon as Bill's answers make her understand the message has been delivered, she reaches out behind her, picks the terminal from his hand and hangs it up in front of her. His amusement at her indifference and his subsequent kiss on her shoulder blade feel like a sweet reward for it.

Behind Laura, Bill breathes her. Not her perfume or her shampoo but her personal scent. He was this close to disappointing her, to losing the woman of his life, to totally letting their only chance at love and happiness pass and be gone forever. He cannot think of one single reason which could make him let this slip out of his reach now.

His low rumble shakes her out of the slumber she has started to drift into. She cannot tell if she has actually slept for a while already, or how much time has passed since the last words they have exchanged. She only knows a wave of joy washes through her when his presence and his warmth behind her register with her again.

"Come live with me."

She never thought she would ever feel this happy at the prospect of sharing her life (whatever is left of it) with a man. But then again, she does not think feeling happier that she is now is possible at all.

"Yes."

And then, his arm holding her tighter in response, and a soft kiss intended for the side of her neck that she captures with her lips turning her head to him. His voice, again, when they reluctantly part.

"I love you, Laura."

She does not say the words. She already did.

Now, this makes sense.

Life makes sense.

This is it.

Thank you for reading! Reviews help me a great deal :)