Tabula Rasa

Chapter II

Thankfully, when Laura was once again forced into consciousness by the macabre machinations of her nightmares, she no longer had the sensation of a head full of cotton wool to contend with, though the headache of what the frak she was going to do with her life next still weighed heavily on her mind and, unfortunately, there was no pill for that. Clearly, her present situation could not continue. For one thing, she was getting bored sitting around all day and there were only so many times you could rearrange your clothes, toiletries, bedding and/or furniture before you started coming off a little obsessive-compulsive. Not that anyone but the boy who brought her meals would have a chance of noticing her constantly shifting desk and wardrobe, and he already appeared to think she was out of her , you spilled one breakfast tray over someone…

Bill thought the way the boy avoided looking her directly in the eye like she was some kind of gorgon was highly amusing when they breakfasted together, and she could see him trying to stifle his smile every time she tried to be cordial only for the boy to start stammering. Okay, so maybe she'd shoved the tray into his hands a little too hard and the coffee down his trousers had been a little hot but a guy his age should really have better reflexes and it had been weeks ago. Honestly, his cowering was starting to become provoking and it almost seemed like Bill wanted her to snap just to see if the boy would actually have a nervous breakdown. How she hadn't upended a tray on Bill, too,she didn't know.

How he hadn't throttled her in the last few weeks, she didn't know either. She'd been obnoxious, and as much as her inability to goad Bill had frustrated her in the beginning she had since come to value his thick skin when it came to her loose cannon of a temper - not that he hadn't barked at her a couple of times. Not nearly as often as he'd obviously wanted to though nor, if she was honest with herself, half as often as she'd deserved it. She'd been defensive, and sometimes she'd even meant to be mean, played into his expectation of her perpetual bad mood to stop herself from revealing too much. She felt that it was a sign of weakness to need, well, anyone, and Laura didn't wear weakness well.

Frak, she never did work up the guts to tell Bill about her cancer herself, couldn't bring herself to tell a man she'd spent half her time fighting with and the other half flattering that he need only wait a few months and she'd be out of his hair for good. Back then she hadn't wanted her illness to be another excuse for him to minimize her role as president.

Of course that had been before their quest for the Tomb of Athena; everything seemed so different after Kobol, not least the way she felt about him.

He would never know how close she'd been to total physical and mental breakdown in that gods-forsaken forest; how every doubt she'd ever had had come crashing down on her at once; how deeply she had known that failure would be death in her weakened condition, and almost welcomed it. Huddled under that tarp on a drowning hillside, bereft of her spiritual advisor, left with only Elosha's blood-stained prophecies and a cylon guide, she had prayed to the gods, prayed more deeply, offered more of her soul than ever before, for a miracle. If she couldn't find the map to Earth her only legacy would be false hope, and she wouldn't even be around to answer for it when the fleet began to fall apart…

And the gods had sent her Bill. Bill, who she'd thought more likely to shoot her than shake her hand after estranging him from his son, had turned out to be full of forgiveness and willingness to help her find the tomb, even though he thought it was a fool's errand. How could she not feel differently about him after that? How could she not admire the strength of character it took to admit his mistakes, the good heart that had literally answered her prayers and brought him to her in her hour of need?

And he'd been there ever since, a pillar of support, though Laura would find it hard to admit to herself just how much stronger he'd made her feel, in ways that had nothing to do with the fact that he was the head of the military. Sometimes it seemed the only way she could allow herself to depend on someone was by pretending it wasn't happening.

Like now. She'd been on Galactica a month and she'd done what? Apart from bitch about Baltar? Nothing. After the election she could've ended up anywhere, doing anything, if not for Bill snatching her out of the flames again. Nobody else had been queuing up to take her in. And how had she thanked him for his kindness? By damaging his ship, treating him like crap and drinking all his liquor. He'd been a true friend and she'd been an ungrateful ass. A sponging, ungrateful ass.

It was time to get a job and make herself useful again. Hadn't Bill said something about a job last night? Her memory was a little fuzzy. Well, whatever it might be, she would take it. It was the only way she knew how to show him that she had better intentions for the future than she had demonstrated in the last few weeks. She might also try remembering that he was the last person in the world she should be getting mad at after everything he'd been trying to do for her. He'd probably appreciate that. And a proper apology for not realising that sooner wouldn't be inappropriate either…

She sighed, reluctantly sitting up and rubbing the sleep from her eyes. A glance at her watch, held close to her face, told her what she'd already suspected, that it was late in the morning and she had lounged around long enough. Why was Bill's bunk so much more comfortable than hers? She stretched her arms over her head with a groan before bowing to the inevitable and throwing back the covers.

She dawdled in the shower, 'borrowing' Bill's soap to wash off the smell of whisky and cigarette smoke. It couldn't get the smell out of her clothes though, nor the taste out of her mouth, and she was eager to get back to her own room to change after she'd finally - grudgingly - switched off the water and gotten dressed. That didn't stop her from lingering long enough to steal a book from Bill's collection though, leaving a note in the gap on his shelf, just in case he actually noticed it was missing. No matter how many times Bill told her there was a system to the piles of books stacked around his quarters she had yet to figure it out, strongly suspecting that they weren't as orderly as Bill liked to make out. She was half-tempted to keep the book unless Bill could tell which title she'd taken by the hole left in this 'system' of his. Unfortunately, that was also known as theft…

When she got back to her quarters she found Specialist Henderson waiting to check the wiring again and smiled apologetically for keeping her. 'I just got here,' Cally assured her, when Laura said she hoped she had not been there long.

Laura let the technician in and excused herself to brush her teeth, taking a few candles with her in anticipation of the lights going out. They were flickering now, occasionally winking out for a couple of seconds together before flaring back into life. It was downright perilous if one was in the act of applying eyeliner or mascara, granted not something she did often at the moment, perhaps a situation she should remedy, not for vanity's sake but to lift her spirits as only a little pampering could. She decided she was going to devote at least some of the afternoon to a manicure and pedicure, sheer indulgence, the kind of indulgence she hadn't had time for since The Fall. She had a bottle of nail varnish somewhere. Red, of course. There was something appealing about red toenails.

The lights had gone out and Laura carried the candles back into the living area with her, carefully standing them on the small desk before grabbing up the packet of cigarettes she'd dropped on the bed on her way in and lighting one. 'I apologise if I was short with you last time,' said Laura, rummaging in the desk drawer for something to use as an ashtray and coming out with a small trinket box, perfect with its metal interior. 'I've been a little short-tempered lately,' she said, in somewhat of an understatement as she sat down on the bed.

Cally took the pocket-light out of her mouth. 'Hey I've had a few electric shocks on the job, makes me cranky, too,' she shrugged, having already forgotten about it in the relative calm since. 'And we were all pretty pissed after the election. I mean, no one who'd actually met Baltar would vote for him. He's such a creep, it's like he thinks he's a gift from the gods or something,' she shuddered. 'And then, you can be talking to the freak one minute and next second it's like he doesn't even see you. I'm telling you the guy's got issues…' She trailed off, looking over at Laura, her eyes widening. 'Sorry, I'm talking too much,' she apologised, realising she had probably been too free and tacking on a belated, 'ma'am.'

'I didn't realise you'd spent so much time with him,' said Laura, pouring herself some water from the jug beside her bunk and trying not to appear as interested as she was.

'Not by choice,' said Cally, turning back to the open panel. 'We were both on the raptor that crashed on Kobol.'

And then she stuffed the pocket-torch back in her mouth and went back to work and Laura was left wondering what might have happened on Kobol while all hell was breaking loose in the fleet, wondering if she had overlooked something that might have helped her in the election. Not that that should matter anymore, but it did. She wanted to dig up Baltar's every dirty little secret, though she was pretty sure Tory had done a thorough job of it after Baltar sprang his intent to run for the presidency on them, mid press-conference no less. Frakking Baltar. Literally. His file was stuffed with enough sexual liaisons to turn the pages blue. He was constantly shuttling off to Cloud 9, usually charming enough to pick someone up in one of the many bars but not above paying to have his needs met.

She wondered if either the Cloud 9 disaster or the presidency had changed his habits any but was forced to conclude that they probably hadn't. Baltar was used to living in the public eye, he knew how to work the press and woo the public and still run around like a frakking playboy. It was nothing short of infuriating when she thought how she had staggered under the enormity of the responsibility, how she had agonised, day and night, over the decisions that meant keeping the human race alive but slowly tore her soul to shreds. And what was keeping Baltar up at night?

Probably his leggy 'aides'.

AN: Thanks for reading, hope to hear from you! X