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He snuck back into the Life Station at a time when he was sure that she'd be asleep. He couldn't bear to look into her eyes one more time today, it was all too much. Bill had left her with Cottle to begin her treatment, and the doctor had ordered her to stay the night for observation. She'd fought him only superficially, and Bill could tell immediately how affected she was by his prognosis. Usually she would have fought tooth and nail, but today she was overwhelmed.
Bill had gone on with his day after their meeting with Cottle. He'd met with Starbuck and Gaeta, only to hear more disappointing news. Their calculations had been slightly off, and now Kara was having trouble 'seeing' the jumps in her mind. They were trying to adjust, and Kara was desperately trying to connect again to the strangeness that had led her first, and now the fleet on this path. Despite his great affection and respect for Kara Thrace, Adama found himself doubting her, which he hated. But how could he not? The future of the fleet was firmly in her hands, and out of his.
He had left the meeting in a blind fury, trying to control himself. He felt as though the hopes of the entire fleet had been built up around the jump plans, and now they were being shattered to pieces too small to ever recover again. And he'd let it all happen. It was on him. And despite the fact that Laura's illness had absolutely nothing to do with him, nor did her lack of a cure, he still felt guilty, and where Adama felt guilt there was also a deep shame. He was utterly and unabashedly ashamed that he could do nothing to reverse the course of events that had led him to this place, where both the life of the woman he loved, and the future of humanity were slipping through his finger tips.
He entered her curtained area silently and saw that she was indeed sleeping peacefully on her side. She'd changed into a hospital gown and she even looked gorgeous in the plain white cloth. He sat down and stared at her for a while, before leaning back and closing his own eyes. All he could see were her green eyes controlled with determination, but clearly unsettled. How could she not show the anguish that must be welling inside her? The fear? The anger?
It as all he could do not to hit something, or someone. He hadn't glanced in a mirror but he knew his eyes must show the intensity of his emotions. He couldn't fight them, and he certainly couldn't hide them. He'd practically screamed at Gaeta earlier, broken one of his good drinking glasses, and thrown his best pen across the room so hard it had splattered ink against the bulkhead.
Now he sat calmly, or at least controlled, because he wanted to be with her. He wanted to be near in case she woke up, or needed him. He couldn't act like a crazy man in front of her, and he certainly didn't want to wake her, so he calmed himself as best he could.
He was a loyal man, a compassionate man, and a man of great integrity. He'd never known himself to be a man of fiery passion, or uncontained emotion. But Laura seemed to bring all of that out in him. He found himself loving her with an unrestrained force that he'd never known possible. He also realized that his anger and his fear over her illness were more rash and uncontrollable than anything he'd felt before. It was as if the dam inside him that was holding back his every emotion, blocking him off, protecting him, had come crashing down in an instant, and once he began to feel even the smallest something, he began to feel everything.
He regretted not telling her that he loved her. Even if she didn't feel the same way back, he wanted her to know. He also wanted her to know that he'd been a fool in not taking advantage of the time they'd had together, the time that they'd wasted on protocol and propriety. Most of all he regretted that there was nothing he could do to change it all, to make her better, to give them more time.
He thought back to her admission the other night in his bed. She didn't have many regrets, but she did have some big ones. He was so grateful that she'd shared that with him, and then she'd taken the initiative to end their stupidity and move forward with their relationship. Why hadn't he been so bold?
He knew why. He was scared and foolish. But she was dying; it was more real now than it had ever been before. The woman he loved had weeks, weeks to live, if that. The time for being scared was over. The time for regrets was over. Bill felt like a fool even still for not realizing it before. He wanted nothing more than to make her happy, and to hold on to her as long as the universe would allow. He knew exactly what he needed to do.