For Renee86 and anyone else who's wondering: Laura's sisters and her father were all killed in the accident, just like in canon. But in this universe, Laura was the one who was pregnant, and she was in the car, too. Never fear-Laura will have more to say about that as we go...
Chapter 11: The Window, Part I
It wasn't the mistake that bothered him; kids broke things. It wasn't even the cash he'd have to shell out to get it fixed, even though construction projects had been scare lately and money was tight. And he did truly appreciate that Zak and Lee had come to him and told the truth, instead of lying about what had happened or hoping they wouldn't get caught; that was what really mattered, Bill told himself.
But out of all the trouble there was for two small boys to get into, why did they have to throw a pyramid ball through Laura's Roslin's window?
He stood in her backyard to survey the damage, feeling like a prowler, staring through her window into her empty home. She'd been gone for months, her house silent: no car pulling in or out of the driveway, no mail delivered, no garbage set out by the curb. In the first days of her absence, Bill had thought she'd merely gone out of town; now, he suspected she simply wasn't coming back. It should have helped not to be faced with the sight of her every day; instead, her unexplained disappearance seemed to keep her in his thoughts, a problem he could never quite solve, no matter how hard he tried.
The window was shattered; the shards still clinging to the frame would have to be taken out, and the pane would have to be replaced, Bill decided. But apart from the broken glass carpeting her living room floor and the pyramid ball wedged under a bookshelf, the damage didn't look too bad. He could fix it himself…if he had some way into the house. But Laura was gone, and he didn't have any way to get in touch with her. He had gotten to know quite a few people in this community as he was building his house, but not one of them seemed to know Laura; she kept to herself.
He could hardly leave her window broken indefinitely, not when he was responsible. But how…
And then a car pulled to a stop right in front of him, and not knowing how to reach Laura was a problem for which he was suddenly profoundly nostalgic.
She stepped out of the car, sliding off sunglasses to reveal a pair of green eyes that scrutinized him like a plate of two-day-old noodles she was trying to decide if she should dump down the drain.
"Can I help you?" she drawled, strolling with deliberate casualness to where he stood, planted stupidly by the broken window, a would-be burglar minus a getaway car.
He'd told himself, during her absence, that he was exaggerating her in his mind, but seeing her now–her coppery waves rippling over her shoulders, her pale green eyes clouded with suspicion, her exquisite lips turned downward in displeasure–Bill realized his memory hadn't done her justice.
He buried his hands in the pockets of his jeans, still covered in orange dust from the day's work, wishing he'd had a chance to change into something clean.
"My sons got a little over enthusiastic with a pyramid ball," he said, gesturing at the broken glass. "If I'd known you were home, I'd have had them come over to apologize themselves, but I'd like to say how sorry I am–"
She waved away his apology. "I'm sure it was just an accident." A faint glimmer of a smile quirked her lips. "I used to teach second grade. Kids break things all the time."
She came closer to peer through her own window at the damage, and he inhaled a soft flutter of jasmine and freesia, a scent of warm spring mornings and cool, quiet evenings.
He swallowed. "I'm happy to pay for the damage, but I could fix it myself–whatever you'd prefer."
She shrugged. "Don't worry about it," she said. "It's just a window."
His jaw tightened. "I insist."
She let out a breath, a long, measured exhale that seemed to represent a Herculean effort to hold onto her patience, and Bill felt his own patience slipping further from his grasp.
"Fine," she agreed, as though she were doing him a favor. "That will be fine."
"Then the boys and I will be over first thing in the morning," he grated out.
Alarm flashed in her eyes, a bright swirl of panic against the calm set of her features, and Bill felt his resentment deepen, take on new flavors. Zak and Lee had broken her window, sure, but they were good, decent kids–they didn't deserve to be treated like criminals. It had been an accident. She'd said so herself. What was she so afraid of?
"That's not necessary–"
"They made the mistake, and they'll help fix it," Bill interrupted. "It's a parenting decision."
She slipped her sunglasses back on, the gesture a clear dismissal. "Fine," she said, her tone flat. "I'll see you tomorrow."
He turned on his heel without another word and walked away, appealing to all the gods of the universe to explain to him what the hell he'd done wrong this time.