Until the Summer Brings Us Back
Disclaimer:
All Battlestar Galactica characters and places belong to Moore,
Larson and Universal and are used without permission.
Pairing:
Laura/Adama
Rating:
Teen (damned MPAA!)
Spoilers:
Tigh Me Up, Tigh Me Down. This takes place immediately after the
episode.
A/N:
As with "Until Then" and "A Doubt onto Itself", I held this
back until I'd seen the next episode.
She thought she was being surreptitious as she quietly slipped out of the lab, but Adama's eyes had been on her and he'd seen her attempt to sneak out without speaking to him.
Part of him considered letting her go. Over the past few days, Laura Roslin had proven that trust was not one of the things between them. They shared soul-crushing responsibility, a ton of lust, some respect and a lot of anger but not one damned ounce of trust.
He didn't want to admit it to himself but that fact hurt somehow. Somewhere over the past weeks, he'd found himself wanting her to trust him. But she had proven without a shadow of a doubt that she didn't. Oh, yes, he should just let her go.
But instead, he found himself murmuring a hurried good night to Tigh and his wife and rushing out of the lab after her. He looked left down the corridor, knowing she would go that way to get back to her ship, currently docked inside Galactica to conserve fuel. She'd be moving fast, he reasoned, in case he went after her. So Adama turned right and ran through the corridors, taking passage after passage, until he was confident he was ahead of her. He stood at the juncture of two causeways and waited.
A few minutes later, he heard the rapid concussion of her high heel shoes bouncing off the metal walls and ceiling. He waited, musing that everyone on the ship could probably tell she was approaching by the sound of her footsteps. Not just the distinctive clicking of her heels but the rhythm of her gait; rapid and purposeful. She sounded like a woman with places to go. The sound grew louder and when she rounded the corner, he stepped out in front of her, halting her escape.
The President nearly skidded to a stop and her security detail startled a bit at the commander's sudden appearance.
He narrowed a steely look at her as she quickly recovered her composure.
"Going somewhere?"
"Back to my ship," she told him briskly.
"I'd like a word."
She attempted to step around him. "I don't have time –"
He blocked her again. "Make time."
They stood for a long moment, staring at each other with growing hostility before the President relented. "Fine," she ground out between her clenched teeth and followed the commander the short distance to his cabin.
While they'd held an armistice in the corridor, all hell broke loose as soon as he'd secured the door to their privacy.
"You've been spying on me –"
"I was insuring that the Chief of the Military wasn't an enemy infiltrator –"
"Enemy infiltrator!"
"Yes."
"And you don't think that if I were a frakking Cylon that I would have blown all the civilian ships to hell by now? Shit, I would have left you all at Ragnar."
She sighed and averted her eyes. "You were behaving oddly," she said stiffly.
"You should have trusted me?"
"Why?" she demanded turning to face him quickly. "It's not like you've given me any reason to."
He looked at her incredulously. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"
"You should have told me about Ellen."
"And you should have told me what the Cylon whispered in your ear," he said with sudden revelation. "That was it, wasn't it? He told you that I was a Cylon." When she didn't say anything, he glared at her. "I warned you. I told you that it would lie and deceive you and you wouldn't listen –"
"Fine, Commander!" the President yelled suddenly. "Fine! You were right. I was wrong. Poor stupid teacher got tricked by the enemy. I admit it. Are you happy now!"
He stared at her for a long moment before he shook his head. "No. I'm not happy."
She returned his look and they fell into a long silence as they stared into each other's eyes. Gradually, the anger seeped out of the room only to be replaced by an almost desperate tension.
"That was the reason," Laura said softly.
The commander nodded. Now that the fog had cleared, he understood her sudden rejection. A part of him was relieved that she'd pulled away from him. Not that he didn't want her still, but he wasn't sure what he would think of her if she'd been willing to sleep with him while suspecting that he might be the enemy. He was rapidly learning that she could have a ruthless streak two clicks wide but he didn't want to believe that she'd be that – well, slutty. Ellen, yes; Laura, no.
"Baltar says that my test results will be complete in the morning," he informed her as he unbuttoned the clasp at the neck of his uniform. "I've ordered him to test you next." He gave her a look that said that he was deadly serious.
He met his eyes unflinchingly. "I would expect nothing less, Commander," she told him.
Her voice seemed genuine and she reached up and pulled her glasses from her face. Now that her eyes were unhidden, he could see the regret. She would never say she was sorry, he knew it and wouldn't expect it. It wasn't because she was proud or stubborn; it was because she was justified. It was her job to protect the fleet, same as his. If there was a chance that there was a Cylon infiltrator in the fleet leadership, she had every right to ferret it out. However, her methods were suspect. The spying and meeting with his XO behind his back made him angry but he decided not to push it. They'd been pushing each other enough over the past couple of days.
"Do you want a drink?" he asked.
She nodded and he saw her relax marginally.
Moving to his small kitchen, he pulled a bottle and two glasses out of the cupboard. She was already sitting when he rejoined her. He gave her one of the glasses.
"Ambrosia?" she said with surprise. "How in the world did you manage to hide this from Ellen?"
Adama smiled. "It wasn't easy," he said, filling her glass. "I had to sneak it out of the stash she brought with her from the Rising Star."
"Stash?" Roslin said with a raised eyebrow. "How big of a stash?"
He capped the bottle and set it on the table. "Two bottles smaller than she thinks it is," he said settling back against the cushions.
"Do you think it's wise that she has a supply of alcohol?" the President asked carefully.
Adama knew where she was going with that and felt himself stiffen, ready to defend his friend. But just as quickly as the irritation came, he felt it dissipate because he had thought the exact same thing. That was the reason why he'd lightened Ellen's load; not just to enjoy the stuff himself, but to lessen the woman's influence on her husband.
"She's his wife," was all he said and took a sip of the sharp, slightly sweet liquor.
He felt Roslin's eyes on him but he didn't look at her. She stared at him for a long moment before he saw her settle back on the sofa and take a careful sip. This surprised him. He'd expected her to argue. He wondered if that meant she was willing to extend him that little bit of trust to make sure his XO didn't get completely out of control; or if she was simply tired of fighting with him for the day. Whichever it was, he was thankful. He was tired of fighting with her as well.
They drank in silence, the minutes ticking by into an hour, until the bottle was nearly empty and they were both leaning against the cushions staring at each other.
Adama was not only a soldier; he was Saul Tigh's best friend. Because of that, he had a decent alcohol tolerance. Right now, he was feeling relaxed; more relaxed than he'd felt in more days than he could count.
The woman sitting next to him, however, was drunk. He noted that Laura Roslin was Ellen Tigh's exact opposite, even while inebriated. She wasn't noisy and obnoxious. She'd sat quietly sipping her drink and when she was done, she'd put the glass on the table and collapsed against cushions. He only knew that she was intoxicated because her eyes were unfocussed and she couldn't seem to sit up straight.
In fact, she looked a little pale.
"Are you alright?" he asked as he sat up with some effort.
She blinked at him owlishly. After licking her lips, she whispered, "I don't think I should have had that to drink …"
He smiled at her. "It's fine. You're just a little drunk." Something occurred to him. "Do you feel sick?" Gods, he hoped not. He hadn't had to hold a drunk woman's hair back while she puked since the academy.
Thankfully, she shook her head. "Not sick." She closed her eyes. "Sleepy." Her words were slurring. "Doc told me not to drink … said the pills … not good."
Adama was confused. "Doc Cottle told you not to drink? Because of your medication? What medication?"
She struggled to stand suddenly and he had to catch her before she toppled over the table.
"Have to go back to ship," she muttered before she passed out cold in his arms.
For the second time in a month, William Adama found himself watching the President of the Twelve Colonies of Kobol while she slept.
After she'd passed out, he'd carried her to his bunk and covered her with his blankets. Once he had her down, he'd made a call and waited 10 minutes for Doc Cottle to arrive. When his medical officer came through the door, he gave Adama an annoyed look.
"How much did she drink?" the older man asked grumpily.
"Three or four glasses?" Adama spit back, glancing at the nearly empty bottle.
"How many was it, Commander? Three or four?"
Adama scowled. "I guess four."
Cottle shook his head and took up the President's wrist to check her pulse. "Damned foolish girl," he muttered. "I told you to be careful."
Adama watched silently as the doctor listened to Roslin's heart, checked her temperature and flashed a light into both of her eyes while holding her lids open with his thumb. He reached into his bag and pulled out a needle and a small vial. The commander watched carefully as the doctor drew the president's blood.
"What's that for?" he asked.
"Just need to check some levels," was all the answer he got.
When Cottle was done, he packed up his equipment and handed the commander a small vial. "Make her take two of those when she wakes up and tell her I want to see her in Life Station tomorrow."
It wasn't until the major had gone when Adama realized that he'd just been charged with watching over her for the night. He glanced over at her again and shook his head as he picked up the phone and started making calls.
Now, nearly an hour later, Adama found himself tired and ready for bed. He'd already changed into some sweats in his small bathroom. But instead of heading to the sofa, he found himself sitting in a chair beside the bunk, with his hand resting on Laura Roslin's arm.
For as composed as she was when she was awake, tonight she was equally fidgety and restless in her sleep. She was still for only a few minutes at a time. She'd turned from one side to the other and then back again and now was sprawled across the bunk on her belly, her arms splayed out at odd angles. She was snoring softly and her mouth was ajar. With a grimace, Adama realized that she was probably drooling onto his pillow. He only thought about it for a second before he unceremoniously pulled the pillow from under her, causing her head to flop down hard on the bunk.
She grunted and turned again, this time onto her back. As she flipped over, her hand smacked him painfully on the nose. The tired, irritated part of him was angry but the pain faded quickly and he knew he probably deserved it anyway; if not for pulling the pillow, then most certainly for something else.
After the doctor had left, Adama's first call had been to Baltar, the only other person besides Cottle with the President's blood sample.
So as gently as he could, he untangled her legs from the covers and tucked her in as best he could before he took his slightly damp pillow and went to find rest on the sofa.
It was nearly morning when he heard the first distressed moan. He bolted from the sofa and frowned at what he found in his bed.
Laura was drenched in sweat; she was pale and panting and it looked like she was having one hell of a nightmare. Adama decided to wake her up before she started screaming or worse.
"Madame President," he said firmly. She frowned and moaned again. "Madame President. Laura!"
Her wild eyes snapped open and she bolted upright on the bunk. She looked about uncertainly until her gaze clashed with his and her look transformed from startled to something he couldn't fathom.
"Are you alright?" she asked shakily. "You're alive, you're ok."
Puzzled, Adama nodded and captured her shaking hands in his. "As far as I know, I'm fine," he told her reassuringly. "What about you?"
She closed her eyes and swallowed heavily, her hands clenched his tightly. "I'm … Gods, I feel like shit."
He chuckled and gently sat down on the bunk. "It's a hangover," he informed her.
She looked embarrassed and released his hands. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to fall asleep on you."
"It was fine."
"No, it wasn't, but it's nice of you to say so. I'll be getting out of your hair now." She moved to get out of the bed, but he stopped her with a hand on her leg.
"There are some pills you're supposed to take," he told her, trying to ignore the soft loveliness of her skin.
"Pills?"
"Doc Cottle brought them over," he told her and rubbed her leg soothingly at her horrified expression. "Calm down. It's fine. When you passed out –"
"Passed out!" She covered her face with her hands.
"I called the doc because you said something about not drinking with your medication." He paused, not missing the fear that flashed in the eyes he could only see through her long fingers. "Cottle says to take these pills and see him in Life Station later."
Slowly, her hands lowered from her face and she eyed him warily.
With a sigh, Adama stood and tossed the pill bottle onto her lap. "He didn't tell me anything," he said softly. "A shower will make you feel better. Everything you need is in the bathroom."
Fingering the pill bottle, she looked uncertain. "I should get back …"
"Laura, take a shower. Billy knows where you are and has canceled your morning appointments. You've got a couple of hours before you need to be anywhere."
She looked surprised but nodded wearily. She stood on shaky legs. Her dignity, however, would not let her wobble for long and after the first tentative step, she was before him, confident as she could be with severe bed-head and a hangover. "Do I smell that bad?" she asked lightly.
"I've smelled worse," he returned and smiled when she squeezed his arm and disappeared into the bathroom.
"So the fuel situation is going critical."
Adama looked at her, turning away from the dishes he was putting away. "Yes. We're down to having enough tyllium for only three, maybe four more jumps."
The president nodded and ran her fingers through her still damp hair. "And we don't know where we can get more. The press is going to eat me alive when I tell them that one."
"You'll handle them," he said flatly. "You always do."
She cocked her head to the side and pulled her leg up to rest her heel on the edge of the chair. She was wearing a pair of regulation sweats he'd left for her in the bathroom. She looked … cute.
"Your test should be done soon," she said lightly.
"Ah, yes, and then you'll know if I'm a Cylon."
Laura frowned. "I know you're not a Cylon, Bill, I just – I'm not sure about a lot of things anymore."
"Such as?"
"You know, maybe Ellen is right. Maybe I'm not the right person to be leading the fleet."
"Now you're listening to Ellen Tigh? Sure you're not still drunk off your ass?" His voice held his amusement at that notion.
Laura laughed. "I see your point."
"So, such as?"
She smiled at him and shook her head. "Let me work it out on my own, ok?"
He was about to say something, but the phone rang.
Baltar's voice came over the line. "Commander Adama, I was looking for the President… Billy said that I might find her with you."
Adama turned towards the President. "It's for you."
She crossed the room to take the receiver from his hand. "Baltar?"
"Yeah."
"You should listen in." She put the receiver to her ear and tilted it so that he could lean in with his head next to hers. "Go ahead, doctor," she said.
"The results of Commander Adama's test are conclusive," Baltar said quickly. "He is most definitely not a Cylon."
She let out a long sigh and leaned into the commander's chest almost imperceptibly. "Thank you, Dr. Baltar, that is good, good news. Please commence my test immediately."
"It's already underway, Madame President."
Of course, it was. "Thank you," she said and hung up.
Neither of them made a move, despite the fact that the line had disconnected and there was no longer any reason for them to stand so close. The tension between them now was different than it had been a week ago. The passion was still there, the desire still pulsing but now it was a much more restrained feeling; much less compulsive. Laura found that she missed the old feeling, the burning that she had allowed Leoben Conoy to nearly entirely extinguish.
"That was very foolish, you know." His voice was gruff in her ear and his breath whispered across her cheek. "If I had been a Cylon, I could have killed you as soon as he told you."
Laura shook her head. "If you were a Cylon, you had all night to kill me." She turned around to face him. Her nose brushed his slightly as he inclined her head to look into his eyes. "I'm thinking clearly now, Commander. I won't make the same mistake twice."
Something flared in his dark blue eyes, but before he could move or say a word, she stepped away and began gathering her things.
"I'll see you in eleven hours, Commander," she said and slipped quietly from the room.
End. For now.
A/N: The title comes from a song by Keri Noble called "A Piece of My Heart".
I can hear us
laughing
I remember every part
I've got everything we ever
did
It's tattooed on my heart
But there's a colder wind coming
in
And blowing us apart
Until the summer brings us back,
You
know you got a piece of my heart
