Chapter 21 - Working Class Hero
"Bill! It's so good to see you." Ellen Tigh kissed Bill hard on the lips, letting her hand linger on his friend's chest for a second too long.
Saul Tigh chuckled to himself. Some things never change. Ellen's attempts to make him constantly jealous were transparent. They also turned him on and she knew it.
"Keep your frakkin' hands to yourself, woman," he growled at her playfully.
She laughed and batted her eyelids at him before they all flopped down into their seats.
"First pyramid, now the hottest prize fight tickets in town," he said in an astonished voice. "She must really frakkin' like your cock, Bill."
"Saul!" Bill growled. "Keep your voice down, for frak's sake."
"Ha!" he said triumphantly. "No instant denial this time, I notice."
"What are you talking about, Saul?" Ellen asked.
"Bill here," he gestured towards his friend who was keeping up the pretense with a stoic look, "is frakkin' his boss."
"Who?" she asked with a confused look on her face. "One of the other Admirals? Good Gods, not Cain, I hope."
"Nah, you stupid woman," he snapped. He glanced at the stony look emitting from Bill's face and begrudgingly lowered his voice before answering his wife. "Laura frakkin' Roslin," he hissed.
Saul laughed as Ellen's eyes widened so much they practically popped out of her head. "What?" she screeched loudly over the general din of the auditorium.
"I told you he had the hots for her," he reminded her.
"I thought you just made that up," she accused. "As some lame excuse to why you two had been fighting."
"Nah," he said. "Gods honest truth."
"Haven't you two got anything better to do than talk about my sex life?" Bill injected.
"I'm just in shock," Ellen admitted. "I didn't really think the Ice Queen would do that sort of thing. You mean to tell me that the prim and proper President of the Twelve Colonies is getting down and dirty and frakkin' a real frakkin' man?"
"I think," Bill said in an icy voice, "you should be careful what you say next Ellen."
"Oh Bill, you have got it bad," she turned back to Saul. "I think our Bill's actually in love with the woman," she said.
"Yeah, I think you're right," Saul agreed.
She swung around to Bill again. "So if you get married, will you be the First Man, First Gentleman, what?" she teased.
"Ellen, one more word and I swear-" Bill started angrily.
"Oh." Ellen reached over and gave him a hug, letting him know how much she enjoyed their love/hate relationship and the consequential banter that came along with it. "You don't wanna frak with me Bill, try to remember that," she said laughingly.
They had ended their arguments over the years this way so many times it had become their little ritual.
"Don't you frak with me either, Ellen," Bill gave his predictable answer.
0.0.0
Bill Adama was enjoying one of the preliminary bouts when a voice spoke close to his ear.
"There you are," he heard Laura Rolsin's rich tones say.
"Hey," he said standing up to greet her.
He couldn't resist eyeing her up and down. She was dressed in an elegant blouse and jacket on top, but it was her legs that drew his attention. Instead of being bare in one of her ridiculously short skirts, tonight they were moulded into a pair of tight denim jeans. She always looked stylish and beautiful, but in the jeans she looked incredibly sexy as well. He leered at her, feeling incredibly smug at the thought that she had wrapped those gorgeous legs around him.
He realised he'd obviously been staring for a prolonged period when she arched a smile at him. "What?" she asked in a throaty tone.
He just continued to smile at her, thinking about all the ways he wanted to pleasure her. She swayed next to him and held his gaze, silently flirting with him.
"Bill!" Saul barked behind him.
"You remember Saul Tigh, my XO from Galactica?" he asked.
"Yes, of course, hello Colonel," she politely greeted Saul.
"My wife Ellen," Saul said. The two women nodded and murmured general greetings to each other, but immediately Bill angled his body to effectively block off the other couple so that he could talk to Laura privately.
"I didn't know you'd be here tonight," he said.
"Who did you think this seat was for?" She pointed to the empty seat beside him and made a motion so that they both lowered themselves into their allocated seats.
"My father was an avid fight fan," she said, having to lean close for him to hear. "I adored my father, so I love a good fight."
He smiled at her again. He thought about Ellen's perception of Laura as an Ice Queen. Ellen couldn't be more wrong. Once you got through her outer barriers, she was one of the warmest human beings you could ever meet. Unfortunately, he knew that almost everyone she had let in behind her wall of reservation had left her in one way or another. With the passing of each member of her family, another piece of her heart had been chipped away. No one had been there to catch her as she fell apart.
She had turned to an affair of convenience with Richard Adar and he, in turn, had betrayed her by questioning her professional integrity and publicising their personal relationship. To add salt to the wound, the man had even timed his treachery to coincide with her cancer diagnosis. Adar was a prick.
She had buried herself in her position, transferring all her efforts into being the President of the Twelve Colonies. Occasionally, people had been allowed see past her well polished facade: Marcie, Billy, Elosha, a fellow cancer patient named Emily she had told him about, and now, him. Some of them had left her as well. Not through choice though. He thought those who truly loved her would never leave her willingly.
He smiled at her again, hoping against hope that he would be there with her all the way to the end.
"I thought you were busy campaigning," he commented, willing himself to stop thinking any further about death.
Since they had returned from Kobol, Laura had been in full campaign mode. The election was only six weeks away and every minute of her day had been occupied with press conferences, grand openings, public appearances and the like.
They had met several times during the day-on business. He had to keep her up to date regarding the map they had found in the Tomb of Athena and the progress he had made in finding the nebula.
Their night time visits had been, unfortunately, less numerous. Really, late night phone calls had of late been their only connection.
"Well, apparently," she drawled, "I need to connect more to the working class people, therefore, I am being paraded around tonight. According to my advisers, the voters think I'm some sort of opera loving snob."
He nodded, mystified that Ellen's misconception was more widespread.
"Of course, My Triumphs, My Mistakes by Gaius Baltar isn't helping matters," she added.
"When's the debate?" he asked.
"Oh, that's a beautiful combination," she said, commenting on the fight. She grimaced over to him and answered his original question. "Two weeks before the vote."
"Don't worry, you'll wipe the floor with him," he assured her.
She hummed.
The fight finished and the referee announced the winner.
"Can you hold these?" She surprised him by handing him her glasses before jumping up and agilely climbing through the ropes into the ring.
She gave a small speech, keeping it light and casual. After she was finished, he expected her to return to her seat but she surprised him again by staying in the ring near the referee and head judge as the next two opponents were introduced. The two fighters stood in the middle and pushed their gloves together to 'shake hands' prior to the bout. They both then went over to Laura and did the same to her. The crowd cheered and laughed. Then, she picked up a large placard with the number one written on it, hoisted it over her head and strutted around the ring. Her theatrics were met with wolf whistles, applause and general feet stomping from the audience.
He chuckled as she came back to her seat, taking back her glasses and donning them.
"You're supposed to do that in a bikini," he teased.
She snorted.
"You've got my vote Madam President," he assured her.
"I should think so, Admiral," she said in a low too sexy tone.
They sat in silence for a while, enjoying the bout, clapping and cheering in the correct places before he found himself chuckling again.
"What?" she asked, arching her eyebrow.
"Do you think an old soldier specifies as 'working class'?" he asked.
She hummed and considered for a moment. "Your father was a well-known lawyer, so you didn't exactly struggle financially, I'm guessing, but," she paused and looked over at him over the top of her glasses, "your family is originally from Tauron, so I don't think we should class you as Caprican elite either."
"Good point."
"So," she managed to pronounce the word with at least three syllables, "I think you'll pass as 'working class' and I'm thinking I really should connect with the 'working class' in more than one way tonight."
She ended her sentence with another suggestive look his way.
"Excellent idea, I think, Madam President," he agreed.