Authors note: This story was written and posted to my livejournal (nixmom) years ago but I am posting here for archival purposes.
. .
tick
tick
tick
tick
She couldn't sleep. In the infinite stillness of her guest quarters, as late night gave way to early morning, her heart hammered in her chest to the barely-there rhythm of her watch's second hand, each hardly perceptible click beating against her brain.
tick
She opened her eyes and could just make out the jerk of the second hand as it mercilessly journeyed around the dial. She held her breath - watching - hoping against hope that the pause that preceded each staccato step might actually draw out into infinity.
tick
She closed her eyes again, her heart beating erratically in her chest at the prospect of what lie ahead. So many times she had prayed to be delivered from this life of recycled air and infinite night, but tonight, with her bags packed and the suddenly terrifying prospect of solid ground beneath her feet, she felt each passing moment like a knife.
Laura sat up and grabbed the leather and gold watch from the shelf. Twelve thirty. Zero dark thirty as Bill had told her such early morning hours were referred to aboard ship.
This ship.
His ship.
The dark grey walls, the gentle hum of her engines, the smell of grease and solvent, they were all as welcome and familiar to her now as the fading memory of lilac and cedar of her old apartment. She felt safe here, protected and a welcome warmth started to spread through her body. Familiarity, she would tell herself, was the reason. The truth was something else entirely.
Tonight she was faced with a real and painful truth, as she wrapped her blanket tighter around her shoulders. The feelings she had, of peace, of relief, had nothing to do with Galactica. It was her Commander. The Admiral of the Fleet. William Adama.
Bill
Never further away than a phone call, never more than a few decks separating her from his quiet and calming presence
tick
She threw a pillow over head to block out the painful reminder that she was quite literally running out of time for any and everything she thought her life might be until a few short months ago.
tick
In the months since she'd lost the election, he continued to welcome her aboard his ship, into his home just as he had in the past. But their working lunches had been replaced with quiet dinners. Debriefs and agendas were replaced by friendly chats where fits of frustration and moments of acceptance passed easily between them, as the business of settling took place below. Bill shared what he could, accepted her council when she was in the mood to give it, and distracted her with simple conversation when she wasn't.
tick
Her settling had always been an eventuality, a theoretical situation that they spoke of only when necessary. She had found it so easy to ignore the inevitability in favor of simpler pleasures in the warm glow of his quarters. Even tonight, after dinner and a night of quiet companionship, as she got up and slipped on her shoes to head to her quarters, neither addressed her pending departure.
tick
Bill.
She threw off the pillow and she felt her heart race faster as adrenaline coursed through her body. Why? Why all of a sudden was there only one thing that seemed to matter in all of the galaxy as she felt each second pushing her closer to morning.
Bill.
She didn't love him, it's just she really wished she had said a proper goodbye.
Bill.
She didn't need him, it's just that she found such comfort in his company..
Bill.
Surely she didn't want him. Didn't want to feel his hands, soft and strong blazing hot trails along her skin. Didn't want to feel his lips, full and lush, murmuring unintelligible things as he nipped at the thudding pulse in her neck. Didn't want to feel his skin, slick and hot, as her body moved against his, as her hands found purchase and her legs hitched higher up his waist so she could meet him thrust for thrust.
Bill.
She groaned in frustration. Her feet matched the relentless cadence of the march of time as she moved quietly through the passageways, as did her wraps on his hatch.
tick, tick, tick
She didn't know if he could see it. If he could feel it. If he could smell it. But he didn't fight it. He didn't ask her why. Didn't ask her if she was sure. He just took her hand and led her deep into his quarters.
His nimble fingers made quick work of her clothes, soothed her gently when, for a moment, she began to tremble, and then cupped her jaw, her name the only word that touched his lips before they found hers.
The dam that had been holding her back, cracked by the pressure of these last few hours bearing down on her, broke under the feather light touch of his kiss. Tears streamed down her face as her fingers slipped into his hair.
He met her raw emotion with a passion she had no doubt was meant only for her. A man who didn't care for her, wouldn't worship her the way Bill was now. Their hands wouldn't roam looking for the places that made her breath catch. Their lips wouldn't offer thanks to gods they didn't believe in for her coming to him like this. Their bodies wouldn't quake with need as they coaxed her closer to the edge of the bed, tasting her and touching her and finding the perfect combination of the two to send her hurtling towards ecstasy. They wouldn't wait patiently, soothing her overly sensitive flesh as she gathered herself back together after shattering under his ministrations.
But he had, and he was, and as soon as she could trust her limbs again, she slid off the edge of the bed and into his lap, her knees astride him as he grinned and then kissed her sweetly again. He tried to stand, but she pushed him back onto the thick wool rug. She ran her fingers over his chest with increasing pressure, finally stroking down his arms and lacing their fingers before bringing both of the arms up beside his head as she claimed his lips with her own.
She pulled back from his lips to find his impossibly blue eyes as she lifted her hips and encased him in her warmth. He shuddered, sighing as she ground against him. She was sure she felt the blood course through his body, in rhythm with her own beating heart, in rhythm with the seconds that still ticked away their time together. She pumped her hips against him, gave sound and sensation to each passing moment, gave voice to the desperation that she knew he understood.
She brought their joined hands to her hips as she rose high above him. He snapped his hips up against hers as she let go to brace herself on his chest. He slid his hand from her hip lower to allow his thumb to provide extra friction against her. She felt his rhythm falter and looked down in time to watch his face as he cried in anguished release. Following him almost immediately, she collapsed against his chest; he kissed her forehead, his breath hot and heavy against her ear as he clung to her, staying that way long after their breathing had returned to normal..
Eventually, silently, they rose, showered and crawled into bed. As she lay with him, her head against his shoulder, she found that the gentle in and out of his breathing set a new cadence for their last few hours together. This welcome rhythm was sweet and slow; it soothed the ache inside and finally carried her to sleep.
She left his quarters early. She kissed him, but she didn't say goodbye. She returned to her quarters, changed, and gathered up her bags, making to leave before she suddenly remembered her watch. She went back and grabbed it from the shelf above the bed, but when she went to put it on she noticed it had stopped. She gave it a flick with her finger and held it to her ear.
Nothing.
She wasn't surprised. She'd been meaning to change the battery even before the attacks. She sighed, the chances of finding a battery now were probably slim to none. She didn't really need it anymore, with no presidential schedule to which she had to adhere.
She tossed it in the trash can, gave the room a final glance and then opened the door. Bill was standing there waiting for her. She smiled. So did he.
"May I escort you to your shuttle, Madam President?"
"Thank you," she said and started to take his arm, but stopped suddenly. "Just one second."
She walked quickly back over to the trash, fished out the watch, and slipped it into her bag.
You never know.