Disclaimer: BSG is not mine. Rumor has it that RDM and DE own it. Mary owns Laura, no one convinces me of another ugly truth. Rumor also has it that there are other people on that show than Laura. I'm not convinced... Is all a lie. Must be a Cylon trick if they say otherwise. So not falling for Cylon tricks... Characters: Mainly Laura Roslin, Bill appears, Adar mention (I love him, shut up), Carolann mention, short cuddly Cottle.
Idiosyncrasies
Beep.
It was the rhythmic sound of a heartbeat monitored right next to her. It had kept her awake at some point but now it lulled her to sleep, enveloped her exhausted mind, permitted her tired body to rest.
Sickbay. She refused to call it home for the days that remained for her. It didn't matter how comfortable Cottle tried to make it, how soft the voices were that came to see her, how normal the conversations.
Nothing about this was normal – at least Laura refused to allow normalcy to creep in.
Another beep, faster now, then slower, then irregular – and perpetual. A flatline. Another one; two in one day. She kept her eyes closed.
Blocking the pain was the only way to deal with this. The physical pain was controlled by meds. It was the sadness that haunted her. The death surrounding her, the needles, the catheters, the drips.
You get used to the smell was something her mother had said to her at some point. She had then, and she had now. It was disconcerting somehow.
The image of her mother came to her every night since a couple of weeks. Memories merging with her own struggles, her childhood coinciding with her mother's death in dreams that flip flopped between hopeful and disturbing depending on the day.
A vivid sparkle warming her at the memory of her mother's laughter, a knot of pain forming in her gut at the pictures of her suffering. Go away, Laura had whispered at some point – not so much to her mother but to the haunting memories and the pain.
Good days and bad days – she knew them both; remembered her mother surrendering to silence on some days and mumbling mantras of sufferance. Laura was so afraid to share her destiny.
Voices reached her ears, more in a mess of barked orders and hasty replies than in individual waves. It impossible to make out who it was. And she found that she didn't care.
Another beep from across the room, rather faint due to the distance of it, moving closer for a moment and remaining audible enough for her to fall asleep to the sound of it.
The rhythm of water dropping into the sink in her kitchen kept her in a bubble of distant sound. Like an echo, the dropping water was like music to her ears, embracing her soul while she watched everything in slow motion. The sunlight on her table, papers spread all over it. A phone ringing upstairs and arms pulling her close.
Those arms, familiar and loving, turning her around in a warm embrace. A smile on his lips and even more evident in his eyes, a sparkle of her lost self reflected in them as if they were a mirror. His voice never reaching her ears, but the taste of him was so real, so comforting when his lips touched hers for a kiss. Memories of pleasure with him. Richard.
Laura sighed. Closing her eyes she heard the water dripping faster now, like a stream rushing by – wind on her skin and grass underneath her feet. Caprica. Her favorite get-away. Nature, fresh and inviting, quiet and lonely. And there he was again, reaching out his hand to her, only inches away and when she touched it, it was the hand of her mother. Her mother propped up in a bed in her home, the sunlight shut out because it hurt her eyes, music playing to soothe her. Laura by her side, her hand clinging to her mother's, caressing her pale skin, the bearded doctor shaking his head, crushing all of her hopes.
Rhythm again, the last remainders of life, some tired intakes of breath - then silence. Deafening, so quiet that it hurt her ears until the dropping water reappeared in a distance. Rain against the windows, sounding like fingers on drums, muted somehow but powerful nonetheless. Laura got up, ran outside, a child now – 8 maybe or 10. Her hair clinging to her face, her dress soaked through, she danced in the rain. Her bare feet enjoyed the feeling of muddy grass underneath her, the smell of a summer storm coming up, the sound of her mother's voice telling her to come inside.
A clang. Then silence once more, silence in the middle of a downpour and Laura was an adult again. Her mother standing in the distance, Richard, speaking to her – words that never reached her ears. Then darkness – a hand on her shoulder and a voice. "Laura."
She jumped awake.
"Laura, are you okay?" his voice was concerned when he removed his hands from her shoulder. Bill.
"I...," she nodded to his question and gave him a faint smile.
"You were mumbling something in your sleep," his eyes showed care.
"I'm fine, thank you." Laura accepted his help to be propped up. "Just dreaming."
"Alright." He smiled worriedly. "Should I leave you or start a new chapter?" He pointed to the book he had read to her in the last couple of days.
"Could you just sit here with me?" Her voice was calm.
"Just like that?" Adama was confused.
"Yes, just like that." Laura answered him quietly.
Bill nodded and pulled the chair closer to her bed. Taking her hand in his, he smiled at her again, one of his melancholy smiles, and observed how she was drifting back to sleep.
It was New Caprica, first sunshine, then night. Chilly at some point but never uncomfortable. Pictures rushed by and Laura saw herself lying on those sandbags in front of her tent. He was there, toasted, relaxed. He was holding her close, she was holding him closer. Birds singing as the sun came up, memories coming and going in fast forward. His kiss of goodbye, of hope or whatever it was, her days in his quarters, an argument, another one, dinners, music, a dance. Then silence again, Emily waving to her in the distance, the sound of her mother calling her name and the smell of him to the face of Bill. Richard. Like past and present colliding. Pictures of good days and bad ones, sunshine and rain, laughter and sorrows rushing past her, making her dizzy. Darkness first then blinding light. Silence giving way to noise so loud it made her cover her ears. The sound of voices overwhelming her, voices coming after the pictures. I-love-you's, I-hate-you's and everything in-between.
Laura tried to scream to make it stop but her voice was gone, nothing left for her to speak. So she covered her ears almost violently, putting so much pressure to her head that it hurt and then she fell.
The ground breaking away underneath her, the darkness of a precipice causing claustrophobia until pictures from her past slid by her. Images repeating themselves: her mother, Richard, Bill.
Her mother.
Darkness.
Richard.
Silence.
Bill.
And the Opera house.
Kobol.
Hera pulling at her sleeves and handing her a robe. "You cannot die" echoing through the halls. And Laura screamed an unheard "no".
"Now young lady, when I say rest, I don't mean have nightmares," Doctor Cottle tried to sound sarcastic through the concern that was evident on his face. Wiping away some sweat from her forehead, he attempted to smile at her.
Shaking her head, Laura made clear that she needed time to recover and Cottle voiced an "I think we should leave her alone for a minute" in Bill's direction.
When Bill returned with a glass of water a short while later, he found her sitting upright and staring into nothingness.
"Wanna talk about it?" Bill asked carefully while sitting down next to her.
Laura shook her head. "Just memories and..." She waved it off.
"Visions?" Bill asked matter-of-fact.
"I don't know. More dreams and memories." There wasn't even a trace of a smile on her face.
"Bad ones?" He placed his hand on her again but she withdrew from his touch.
"Good and bad." She rested her head back against her pillows and looked at him for the shortness of a second. "Is your offer to read to me still standing?"
Bill nodded almost enthusiastically through his hesitance. "Chapter 11 that would be then. It's a cheesy one though, I warn you."
Laura snorted. "Cheesy is better than sad right now."
Bill opened the book and nodded again. "Alright then." And he started to read, his voice taking her into another world, allowing her to close her eyes again without being haunted by previous images. The chapter was cheerful and led her into a world of laughter and lovemaking and happiness. Bill stopped every now and then, allowing the story to sink in, reassuring her of the goodness of the pictures that formed in her head at the sound of his soothing voice.
"...and they spent the night entangled in each other's arms. The fire warming them, shielding them from the coldness of the outside world, giving them a home. The flames matched the intensity of what he felt for her and danced to the rhythm they composed together. A love song that was their's alone, for no one else to hear. And nothing else mattered but the sound of her heartbeat and a moan born out of deeply felt emotions. They had a now and hoped for a tomorrow. Hope being the driving force for a them."
Bill closed the book as silently as he could. Not wanting to startle her, he placed the book on the nightstand by her bed and watched the melancholy smile on her lips.
"I had a longterm affair with President Adar back on Caprica." It wasn't a confession. It wasn't a burden lifted from her shoulders – it was a remark. A reaction to his chapter. A sign of trust and confidence she had in him, Bill.
"I figured," he answered her in whisper, accepting her hand that entangled with his.
"I loved him. Loved him more than I sometimes think I knew I did. But I don't remember if I ever told him." Laura's voice was calm, her eyes thoughtful and wide.
"I don't think I ever told Carolann that I loved her," he met her mood. "It just never felt right." His answer was followed by a moment of quiet.
"Richard said he loved me. And I believed him."
Bill was silent for a moment. "Carolann said it so often that at some point it started to sound like a lie."
"You didn't believe her?" Laura looked into his eyes.
"I didn't believe a lot of what she said." He paused. "At some point we fought so much it was better not to believe her words."
Laura nodded understandingly.
"Do you miss him?" Bill almost whispered.
"Sometimes. It's been worse though." She sighed. "I don't mourn him anymore."
"I go through memories on our anniversary every year." Bill added carefully. "It's as if I hear her in my head, commenting on my life and the life we had."
"So what does she say about your life now?" Laura almost smirked.
Chuckling, Bill squeezed her hand a little tighter. "She disapproves like she used to."
"So she's like an inner voice? Scolding you for your mistakes?"
"Yes, like that."
"So what's she complaining about?" Laura raised her eyebrows to show her amusement.
"That I put her on a pedestal. And that I put you on one."
Laura allowed his words to sink in and enjoyed the way he caressed her hand with his thumb.
"So that's a thing you do? Put people on a pedestal?" Her voice was barely audible.
"People I care about, yes." Bill smiled sadly at her.
Returning his smile in that coy way of hers, she replied quietly, "I keep my heart separate from my head. Talk myself out of feelings until someone makes me fall."
Looking into her eyes, Bill was well aware that they were dancing around them again. "So Adar made you fall?" A nod. "How long?"
"Almost twelve years."
Bill moved his hand up her arm. "And where is your heart now?"
"Right here." Laura smiled ruefully.
"And your head?" His hand reached her neck and cupped her jaw line to caress her cheek.
"Elsewhere." She looked at him in that apologetic way that made him fall for her.
"Is there room for me to be there for you?"
She nodded gratefully. "There always has been." And he smiled.