Her death would be quick and very, very public. He wanted the Fleet to watch it live, so that everyone would know when her life force had left the world. It needed to be visible, so that the people could see the void in leadership and know that it needed to be filled. Her life force seeping from her body while the people watched would be the perfect display and catalyst for revolution.
The gun he'd acquired was heavy and solid in his hands. After a thorough examination, he was satisfied the military-issue rifle would get the job done. Its scope would allow him the freedom to take a distance shot and then watch the chaos unfold. He collapsed the weapon down small enough to hide in his x-ray proof briefcase, sealing it within a hidden compartment.
...
"Sure there's whining and complaining like you would expect, but the people I've talked to are mostly hopeful and optimistic," Ellen giggled, a shallow sugary sound.
"Well, that's good to hear," Laura replied in forced cordiality, but to the observant ear it was clear that Madame President would be happy to airlock Ellen's, admittedly Cylon, ass.
The Fleet had been fleeing from the Cylons for a few weeks. In the other timeline, roughly the same amount of time had passed between the attacks and that Ellen's return, an event which prompted another... notable... dinner. As before, the evening was a descent into madness, a fact which surprised precisely no one. At least during this get-together Ellen wasn't dancing on the table or trying to pull Laura up onto a bar to strip with her (this had happened more than once, and each time Bill hadn't known whether to be alarmed or intrigued).
"Not everyone is convinced that having a kindergarten teacher as president is the best idea, but they're just a tiny, tiny, tiny minority," Ellen teased.
"Wonderful, wonderful," Laura ground out through clenched teeth. She forced the smile to stay plastered on her face. Being pregnant made it infinitely harder to be social with the Tighs - she desperately needed some forbidden ambrosia to dull their presence. A gag would do as well. Laura's smile became a little more genuine as her thoughts meandered.
Bill couldn't quite hide his smile at Laura's irritation pushing against her usual polite and quiet demeanor. He'd heard that tone before. It reminded him of another dinner. 'So many parallels between the timelines,' he thought, 'and not all of them bad.' There were differences too. In this timeline at this dinner Laura Roslin wasn't trying to figure out if he was a Cylon. He remembered feeling boiling rage at someone even suggesting that he, a man who'd experienced the pain of a bitter divorce and losing a beloved son, could be nothing more than a Cylon fabrication. Now, he was married and all three of his sons were alive and...
"Boys!" Laura snapped, and Bill looked around the table trying to figure out what happened during his traipse down memory lane. Zak looked ready to tip his ambrosia over Lee's head. Lee was glaring at Liam who blushed scarlet red. Saul was shaking a finger at Kara. They'd all frozen at Laura's sharp rebuke. Family, Bill grinned. He wondered what would happen if he tried that tone in CIC next time Saul showed up smelling too much like whiskey and cigars.
Ellen laughed, "maybe a kindergarten teacher is just what the fleet needs! That tone! Well. Boys will be boys no matter how big you've all gotten." Ellen took a long drink of her ambrosia before looking between all the Adama men. "Zak and Liam really are your spitting image, Bill. Daddy's boys. But you, Lee, you take after your mother La..."
"Can I be excused? I have important work to do with security for the first Quorum meeting tomorrow. Or is there a particular reason we were all gathered for this distracting little get-together?" Lee asked, cutting Ellen off. He winced when Kara kicked him under the table and shot him a warning look.
Laura licked her lips nervously, "actually, we have news we wanted to share with you."
"Laura's pregnant," Bill blurted out awkwardly, bringing the evening to a crashing halt as everyone froze and gaped at them with eyes wider than Virgon's moons.
"How?" Saul asked, and at Kara's facepalm he shook his head and rephrased. "How?!"
Kara opened her mouth with an undoubtedly snarky reply about how when a mommy and daddy love each other very much, and Laura couldn't stop the giggles that bubbled out of her.
"Was this a joke?" Lee asked, glaring at his father.
"No," Laura said, wiping the tears from her cheeks. "But we realize it's a little surprising, let's be honest, because of our age," she couldn't stop smiling as she reached out and took Bill's hand on the table. "Yes, we are having a baby. I learned about it on the day of the attacks, and Cottle has confirmed it."
"Really?"
"Oh my Gods!"
"So, instead of..." Lee trailed off, shaking his head.
"Boy or Girl?"
"Can I trade in Lee?"
"Congrats, Old Man!" Tigh said, toasting him with a shot.
"Well, Bill, I didn't realize you were so... virile," Ellen flirted, giving him a heated look over the table. She remained oblivious to the way Laura's eyes narrowed at the blonde. Bill realized he really may need to have a guard posted at all airlocks. Indefinitely. Although, the possessive side of his commander in chief was certainly interesting.
...
Valance booked passage onto Cloud Nine. Flung across his desk were his travel documents and papers. Money gathered in wads stuck out from underneath the mess - a useful tool for bribery. Clutched in his left hand was the summit itinerary. With a blood red inked pen, he circled the events Laura Roslin would be at.
The rules inside the structure of concrete and metal he'd been thrown in were different than those in the free world. Valance had come in, a Sagittarian with a talent for taking weapons and making them disappear into unseen hands. In the first month of prison he'd acquired debts that he couldn't repay and painted a target on his back by provoking the Taurons. He tried to hide in his cell once he realized he was drowning in this new world and might not have much longer to live.
Tom had shown up in his cell, looked him up and down, and then casually asked him to sit next to him at lunch. Valance would like to say that lunch was a good memory, but the other Sagittarian had teased him mercilessly until the whole prison was laughing at him, sounding like a roaring thunder. However, a good and thorough public humiliation seemed to release some of the debts he owed. But it was Zarek clapping him on the shoulder at the end of the experience, calling him an idiot and telling him they were going to be friends that kept him alive. He knew that deep in his bones. He'd wanted to punch the egotistical 'revolutionary' in the gods-damn face, but they'd become allies if not friends.
Valance owed Zarek everything.
...
Kara glared at the sky. Fake sunlight...it just didn't feel good unless there was a dose of ultraviolet radiation mixed in, threatening to burn her skin which craved the heating warmth of a real sun. Maybe Kara was just in a bad mood because she was forced to listen to the Colonial Gang spout off their salacious opinions. She could laugh about them calling people like Wallace Grey fatuous gasbags, but her teeth clenched when they called Roslin a fascist. She wanted to march over and yell at them about how stupid they sounded and maybe throw a dictionary at them as well.
There were more than a few times Kara wished Roslin was a fascist like they claimed. That sentiment applied to both timelines. If Roslin would just go ahead and behave like the fascist they purported her to be, she could put stupid civvies in their place when they started getting annoying or downright pushy. Kara grinned, if Laura was a dictator like they implied, she'd most certainly allow her adoptive pseudo-daughter to throw quite a few reporter butts into the sewage reclamation system.
Thinking of unpleasant things, her dear fiancé had kicked up a stink all day. Kara was teetering on the edge of dumping him in sewage reclamation. They'd been checking over the security details on Cloud Nine, particularly the setup that would protect the family fascist. Kara knew she was taking it far more seriously than she had last time. There was no way in hell she was going to look into her sort-of-brother Liam's eyes and tell him she'd failed to keep his mother safe.
"How's your wallowing going?" Kara asked, reaching out to hold Lee's hand. What could she say? Kara liked physical affection, skin to skin contact felt good. She also had no qualms about feeling up Lee in public. Making him squirm was a game she particularly enjoyed playing at the opportune moments.
"Not wallowing."
"How's sulking going?"
"Not sulking."
"Pouting?"
"Kara!"
"Well, spill!" Kara snapped, having little patience for coaxing emotional discussions out of people. "You should be skipping along the grass and enjoying the imitation weather. I want to see you frolicking though some frakkin' roses at the fact that you're getting another sibling. And I know your brothers can get on your nerves, but they are all alive! Your family is alive..."
"My mom's dead!" Lee yelled. "But I get that my dad wants to forget her and forget that time with us. No. Now he's got another baby, another second chance, another reason to forget everything that doesn't fit into this rosy reality."
"Lee, what the hell! You haven't spoken of your dad like this..." Kara stopped. She did remember Lee ranting about his father in the other timeline just like this. She looked at him with narrowed eyes. "He's been there for you."
Lee's muscles tensed, and he refused to look Kara in the eye. Instead he watched marines and officers going about their work on the large spaceship. Green patches marked those from Prometheus, Red for Daedalus, and Black for Valkyrie. Survivors. So many more people had survived this time, he knew that.
"Ellen forgot my mother even existed. Laura came into my family, and it seems like nothing that came before that matters," Lee said, barreling on and ignoring anything Kara said.
"Because there was a lot of love lost between you and Carolanne? How old were you when you watched her get sick from too much booze the first time? When did her mood swings start? How many times did she hit you and promise never to do it again? How long had it been since she even tried to talk to you?"
"Frak you!" Lee growled, marching away from Kara. Feeling like her nerve endings were practically on fire from irritation alone, Kara threw her hands up and stomped off in the other direction.
Kicking at the grass, Lee thought of what Kara said. He should be happy, he knew that. His mind was getting so frustrated trying to make sense of the two lives shoved in his head. Lee froze when he saw two figures in the distance. Dagon and Zarek we're walking and talking in the gardens of Cloud Nine. That can't be good, he thought.
...
Think before you act. That had been Zarek's four favorite words of wisdom to repeat over and over again to him. He'd done so much for him in prison, Valance could do this for his old protector.
Valance grinned and deliberately met the eye of the security guard as his bag was scanned. He held the woman's gaze just long enough to seem honest and trustworthy before looking around and acting the part of curious citizen of the Twelve Colonies. He let another guard examine his badge.
"Have a nice day sir," the woman said, sliding his bag over to him, the x-ray machine having not revealed the rifle in it. Valance smiled again and thanked the woman demurely before joining the throng.
…
Not too far away from Valance, a receiving line welcomed the newly elected members of the Quorum of Twelve and associate personnel onto Cloud Nine. Despite the darkness the apocalypse, the people were seeing the light. Their civilization, their way of life was moving on and rising from the ashes. Ellen was right, the people were hopeful and optimistic.
At the head of the receiving line, the beacon of hope and optimism, stood a smiling Laura Roslin. The fire of determination smoldered in her as she saw her old friends and colleagues. 'It'll be better this time', she mentally promised each person whose hand she gave a firm shake. 'You'll see it this time - a beautiful blue and green planet with puffy white clouds that Kara loved.' She laughed easily with delegates, glowing under the imitation sunlight.
Every so often, she'd remember seeing the blood on Colonial One's walls from her assassinated Quorum. She'd feel a sudden shiver run up her spine when she saw someone in person again even though her shaking, weakening hands had hung their photos in the Memorial Hall. Every time, every single time those thoughts tried to pull her down, she straightened her back, squared her shoulders, and beamed at the next person in the receiving line. 'Avow and affirm that I accept the Office of the President,' she reminded herself of the oath she'd sworn, finding strength in her purpose and focus in her mission.
"Madame President," Sarah Porter greeted. Laura welcomed back the woman who'd supported her when Laura took on the mantle of Dying Leader. Sarah hadn't hidden her disappointment when the Dying Leader hadn't died on schedule. In the end, Sarah had died on New Caprica, in a Cylon raid on the Temple of Artemis. Laura felt relieved that the fate of the Fleet seemed far less tied to her mortality this time.
"Nice to meet you," Marshall Bagot said upon meeting her. He'd joined her faction when the Fleet split after Bill's little coup. He'd mostly joined in support of Zarek, but Laura had gotten to know him a bit in the past two weeks after helping organize a repair team for his ship. He seemed reasonable enough.
Reza Chronides came after Bagot. She was just an aide right now, but it looked like Commander Dagon, present as the second highest ranking member of the military, didn't know what hit him. The vivacious woman flounced past and he looked mildly dazed. He wasn't used to flirty women trying to take a nibble out of him in public quite the way Reza could.
"President Roslin," Jacob Catrell's grip was solid and strong, matching her own. He didn't smile and Laura remembered what a tough nut to crack he'd once been. She respected how committed he was to the wellbeing of his constituents. He'd been quiet but genuine. Loyal. Loyal to democracy, the Fleet, and to her until Zarek killed him. Cantrell had originally taken Tom Zarek's place with the Twelve as the Sagittarian representative. This was the Sagittarian group Laura was greeting which meant the next person would be…
Laura took a deep breath and braced herself. She felt her body flush with a sickening anticipation. This would not shake her, she decided. She'd come too far and faced too much to let an old injury distract her from being what her people needed - a fierce leader.
"If I were to offer you my hand in friendship, would you take it?" Her green eyes blazed.
"There's only one way to find out, Mr. Zarek," she smiled, accepting his hand and giving it a firm shake. Her stomach churned as their skin touched and she had to look him in the eye. In that moment, Laura realized she was willing to put a bullet right between Thomas Zarek's eyes if he threatened anything, she held dear.
"Remember, I'm not your enemy," he assured her, trying to charm her with his smile and charisma.
"I have no doubt," Laura replied, knowing that she truly had no doubts about the man standing before her. She knew exactly how she felt about the man, and despite the molten anger burning her from the inside out, her expression didn't falter. She didn't flinch. Cameras flashed around them, taking in the auspicious meeting of the former terrorist and the President of the Colonies. By outside eyes, it appeared to be going well.
"Judge me on my actions, that's all I ask."
"Well that will most certainly be the case."
"I'll do what's best for the people."
"As will I."
"It would be a shame if we couldn't find a way to work together, Madame President. There's such potential a partnership between us could have."
"I'll keep that in mind," she said lightly before turning her attention to the next person in line, refusing to deign to give her old nemesis any more attention. She sensed Zarek moving away from her and with each step he took the muscles in her body relaxed and she breathed a little easier. There were parallels between the two of them; the determination, fire, resolve, intelligence, and sheer ferocity when push came to shove. There was one absolute difference between the terrorist and the schoolteacher though. One fundamental fact that made Roslin different from Zarek and even Baltar - the number on the whiteboard meant everything to her and nothing to them.
…
Zarek's heart hammered in his chest and the noise in his ears sounded like a runaway freight train. Meeting Roslin again, it jarred him, left him reeling and spinning.
In the seconds, minutes, hours, and the days leading up to Colonial Day, Roslin's image pushed to the forefront in his mind. He growled and protested his brain bringing up the face of someone who didn't even deserve to be in his thoughts. He hated her. He disliked the polite political establishment she represented. Gods, he wanted to kill her!
He hadn't expected her to be practically glowing when they met again.
The Roslin his mind had remembered was pale and frail. She'd been skin and bones, looking like a gust of wind might lift her up and take her away. They'd all changed as the years wore on, so he'd forgotten how she'd looked in those early days. Completely forgotten. The Roslin whose hand he just shook was all fire and fierceness - red hair and a crisp power suit letting everyone know who the boss was.
He wanted so badly to stand next to her on the dais of the ballroom. They could lead their people together. Side by side. He had good ideas for the Fleet, brilliant ideas for the future. But he was nothing to her.
…
Don't attract undue attention. That had been one of the most important rules he'd learned in prison. So he sat alone at a table, quietly looking through meaningless papers while knocking back a drink. He knew this plan of his was foolhardy, and he wasn't going to risk meeting the Lords of Kobol without a drop of good strong Sagittarian beer in his belly.
…
Laura hadn't expected to hear from her husband before heading into the Cloud Nine ballroom. She was waiting in an antechamber, thinking and strategizing when the call came through.
"I was listening to talk wireless. Wanted to hear your voice," he explained when Laura answered. She smiled and felt a warmth filling her soul.
"You're just the man I needed to hear from before going in to run this circus," Laura said, letting his voice soothe her nerves. She was starting to feel raw, but the deep, gravelly tones of her husband's voice worked their magic and put her at ease. She loved his voice. It was warm but commanding, deep and rough, but gentle and held such love for her. They confirmed it was a secure line before continuing to talk.
"You're insane and I don't like this," Bill informed her in a light tone as if commenting on the weather.
"Yes, I know."
Her husband gave a pronounced and disapproving sounding grunt in response.
"It doesn't help that no one is behaving like they're supposed to," Laura said, thinking of all the ways the timelines diverged between the two Colonial Days.
When Baltar received his nomination to the Quorum of Twelve, he'd rejected the nomination. He'd said something about politics being a dreary, boring realm that held no interest for him this time. Tom Zarek, despite her knowing deep down that he was still full of hot air, had not spoken out against her. His revolutionary rhetoric had been practically tame. Laura's behind the scenes political machinations didn't seem to be needed. Wallace Grey sat as the Caprican representative. She'd taken pains, while trying to not be overt about it, to ensure Bagot, Porter, Asiel, and Burian would be more inclined to vote as their President wanted.
"You've been pretty...ruthless in your political maneuvering."
"There was nothing I could do about Zarek though."
"Airlock him?"
"He hasn't spoken out against me. He hasn't made any threatening overtures against the government. Did you hear him on talk wireless?"
"I try not to listen to garbage."
"He sounded almost...supportive," Laura said. "I don't like not knowing what game he is playing."
"Politics."
"As exciting as war."
"I hate Zarek sitting on the Quorum. He shouldn't be allowed anywhere near you," Bill grumbled. The second she said the word, he'd kill Zarek himself and he wouldn't lose a bit of sleep over it. The only thing easing his worry was that Laura let him look over the security preparations for the first meeting of the Quorum. The Fleets best marines were there. Galactica's roughest, toughest bastards were assigned to her personal detail, augmenting her secret service protection. Boomer hovered close by with her augmented Cylon senses, with Apollo and Starbuck ready to jump into action if provoked. At least, he hoped Starbuck waited until she was provoked.
He frowned, feeling an antsiness tingling along his skin. He'd been in command for a long, long time and thus removed from the front lines of action. Yet it was there, wave after wave of anxiety surging against a seawall of calm he'd built, urging him to jump into a raptor and join his wife and elder children on Cloud Nine.
"These are the games I have to play, no matter how dangerous. You know I'd love to airlock that man and maybe a few others. But this Fleet is too big, too diverse, and too opinionated for you and me to even try to rule by fiat. We need to play by the rules. Sagittarians are a sizable chunk of the population. We kill their hero and it gets out - it will be a disaster. Dagon is a Sagittarian. Do you think he wouldn't have the nerve and the resources to strike back at us and our family?"
"Laura...just be careful."
"I'll come home to you," she promised, noticing Billy walk into the antechamber. "It's time. I've gotta go," she said, and they exchanged goodbyes before Laura followed Billy into the ballroom where the Quorum delegates were assembled.
…
The delegates accepted her as the woman they could trust to be their leader. Some of them expected to see a mousy schoolteacher - someone meek and mild who'd be easy to walk all over. It wasn't a stretch to expect the former Secretary of Education turned President to be crumbling under the weight of what remained of humanity. Instead, they found a realist with a heart. Roslin was someone clearly in control but there to serve. She offered order and a chance for stability.
When she addressed the first item on her agenda, the nomination and election of a Vice President, and put forth Wallace Grey's name as a candidate, it was met with open approval. Was Wally the perfect Vice-Presidential candidate? No, Laura would admit that. But she never claimed to be a perfect President either. They were just survivors caught in a stream doing their best not to drown.
…
Zarek didn't seem to know what hit him.
Wally had just been elected Vice President of the Colonies.
This time, Zarek had played the part of subdued renegade. He hoped it might win him a bit of Roslin's favor. He'd played nice, acting like a good little boy in the hopes that a bullet wouldn't find its way into his head again. He had no doubt that if he gave any of the Adamas a reason, he'd find himself on the wrong end of a rifle. Once was enough, he thought. He had nightmares about his execution detail. It hadn't felt as good as he expected, dying for a cause. Looking down the barrel of the rifles, he knew his name would be forgotten. Being lost to time was something he could never accept.
He'd formed a new plan for this second chance. It was his hope that playing well with others in the kindergarten teacher's sandbox would mean that he would not be frozen out of actually doing something in the government. He'd told the reporters with all the smooth-talking talent he possessed that he would be the voice on the Quorum for the disenfranchised. Pretty sounding promises were made. The right words, he dealt them out to the reporters like a professional gambler. Nothing too controversial passed his lips. He kept his head down and his more - explosive tendencies in check.
And yet, the election was over so fast someone may as well have pistol whipped him. His head certainly felt like someone had. He had contingency plans though.
Laura stood at the center of the ballroom before the Quorum leading the meeting as if she'd been born to do this. Poised and graceful, her voice was strong and confident. He had to admire how well she played her part. Marines were stationed behind her, and Zarek scoffed at the less than subtle support from the Fleet's leading military strong man for his political strong woman.
No one expected the gunshot.
No matter how far away the shot sounded, well outside the Cloud Nine ballroom, the sound brought back the pain. For an instant, he felt the piercing pain of Adama's bullets and a warm feeling all over his body as they drove into him. He remembered cracking sound slamming into his eardrums just a fraction of a second before feeling metal being slammed into his body. Then, nothing.
This gunshot split through the air, echoing around the marble. A cold sweat prickled his skin, and caused his shirt to stick to his back. He'd died. Holy frak, he'd actually died. That sound had been the last thing he'd known. No wonder he was playing it safe.
The guards had instantly tensed around Laura, hiding her from view. Delegates looked around, searching for the source of danger. Someone screamed.
Senses sharpened with adrenaline, Zarek held his breath straining to hear with every bit his concentration. Cool air from the air filtration system whispered around him.
They heard a door open from behind them.
…
"Drop your weapon!" Lee yelled his weapon raised and pointed at the man he'd been chasing. He'd seen Valance and instantly panicked, ordering the man to freeze. He chose to run instead, making it all the way to the observation deck of the ballroom ad he and Starbuck raced after him.
Everyone in the ballroom turned and people gasped in alarm at two colonial warriors brandishing their weapon at the man. Valance stayed very still, cornered. There was no doubt that if he hadn't, he'd already have met a bullet with his name on it.
Valance swallowed hard and met Zarek's eyes. The final two rules of prison flashed in Valance's mind. Take responsibility for your mistakes and...loyalty. The military could make him talk. They'd learn about his plan to kill Roslin and create a power void Zarek could slip into. He knew they'd make him talk. Can't trust the military, he knew that for a fact. No. He was caught, and he wasn't going to take his friend down with him. They'd find a connection, or, worse, they'd pin his actions on Zarek. He'd just tried doing what was best for everyone - put someone strong in position who he knew could keep them safe. Zarek deserved a chance to help more underdogs like him.
He met his friend's eyes.
He didn't have time to assemble the rifle. With a smile, Valance reached into his jacket and pulled out the hidden smaller sidearm, aiming it at the dais even though the marines had closed ranks around their President.
Shots rang out before he could even raise the weapon.
Valance was dead before he could hit the ground. Suicide by cop. Kara squatted down to check for a pulse and remove the gun.
"How did you know?" Kara demanded, looking up at Lee.
…
"Citizens! I give you your new Vice President, Wallace Grey!" Laura announced as the music pulsed over the crowd. The Fleet wanted to celebrate after the first successful meeting of the Quorum of Twelve, and the media was eating up the story of humanity's return to civilized ways of doing things. The party was a riot of color and everyone was more than a little hyped up. Some partiers were giddy, and others were already drunk. They cheered on their new Vice President as he made his way through the crowd while Laura took up a spot on the outskirts of the dance floor.
She hoped to the Gods she was making the right calls. Letting Zarek into the Quorum and maneuvering Grey into the Vice Presidency would have lasting repercussions.
"You're still standing," a deep voice from behind her broke her broke her reverie. A contented grin spread across her face as her husband came to stand beside her. A happy memory brushed at the edge of her mind.
"So are you."
"And I still dance."
Laura chuckled as her husband slipped his hand in hers and lead her to the dancefloor. He pulled her close against him, so that they were pressed together from cheek to knee. Laura hummed in relief at having survived the past few days and being back where she felt happiest. She felt the ripple of muscle under her palms and the familiar smell of wool and aftershave. His hand rested against the small of her back sent a pleasant tingling thrill up her spine. They spoke softly of the past few days, and Bill tried his best not to get worked up about Valance. Now was the time to relax.
"This is where we started, isn't it? Dancing on Colonial Day, far too close," Laura asked, letting her head drop to Bill's shoulder as they swayed to the jazzy music.
"Yea," Bill said, remembering the fateful day when he'd seen a woman instead of a President. He'd been struck by two things that night - that Laura was a beautiful woman, and that she looked as lonely as he felt. Leadership was a solitary place to be, and there was only the two of them at the top. He remembered how she'd nodded her head to the music, clearly enjoying the rhythms and melodies but no one asked her to dance. Something stirred in him, an understanding and curiosity for her.
It had surprised him how much he wanted to dance with her even then. In each other's arms, they'd flowed across the dancefloor with a mesmerizing grace. Their bodies had known how to speak to one another even though verbally they were both still guarded. But there in his arms Laura's sensuality shone through the cracks in her cool, polite facade. Under his fingers he felt her soft curves and had been mesmerized by her body. The shy looks she'd shot him all night had given him the distinct impression that he wasn't the only one experiencing such intruding thoughts. If he felt like indulging in a little self-indulgent honesty, it had felt good to have a woman look at him with some heat in her eyes despite his age and was a poignant memory.
Now, Laura shifted slightly in his arms, letting herself settle down after being so keyed up for the past couple days. He smiled. It was the simple joys that made life worth living. Dancing with the woman he loved was one such pleasure. He felt Laura smiling against him.
All around them politicians, bureaucrats, and Fleet personnel let their hair down and made their way across the dance floor. Everyone moved like they'd forgotten how to stand still. Billy danced with Dee. Well, their limbs moved in jumbled and only slightly rhythmic manner. Nearby, Ellen and Saul were turning dancing into foreplay. Lee and Kara were in the corner of the room having some sort of heated exchange. Dagon and Zarek were at a table conversing quietly and looking far too conspicuous as they tried to look innocent.
"I wonder how that Bill would have reacted if someone told him he'd end up marrying his president," Laura suddenly teased.
"He would have voluntarily reported to Cottle to have his hearing examined," Bill said, and Laura giggled in his arms and the sound made the soft light more golden and the fire ignited in him.
"Will you invite me back to your quarters this time, Admiral?" she flirted, and felt the rumbling of his chuckle in reply.
His grip tightened on her. It thrilled him, knowing the ring on her finger meant that there was no use in pretending she was anything other than his beloved partner. He felt his love run hot through his veins and jolt through the full length of his nervous system. His wife was beautiful. She was as flawed as any human, and he knew that, but Bill found her perfect for him. And now she seemed even more breathtaking and perfect than she had before. She was his wife, carrying his unborn child, and mother to his sons.
"The old me could never have imagined how lucky he would be," Bill said.
"Neither of us could have imagined this," Laura agreed. They might not have known it then, but even on their first Colonial Day they belonged to one another. Fate had brought them together, and they both willingly, happily stayed. Laura shuddered at the brief thought of how awful it would cut her to lose the man she danced with. She'd never recover.
She closed her eyes and let him continue leading their dancing, losing herself in his solid warmth. Try as she might, she couldn't quite push away the creeping thoughts of the hell she would live in if he was ever taken from her. Maybe it was seeing Zarek again. Maybe it was her dreams whispering about others who had their memories back as well. Maybe it was her own fear. Maybe it was her proclivity for prophesy.
…
Author's note: I really, really, really appreciate some of the kind reviews I got after last chapter. I've been posting on this story for awhile, but it's still my first fanfic. *Blushes*
Shout out to Elena Kats, ShaMG, Just a Crazy-Man, adama-roslininlove, Ms. Didi, mullallygurl, AndrezaMNFCF, and some really awesome gusts for the kind words.