Author's note: *Chapter deals with mental health issues*
...
Bill endured a meeting with other ranking members of the military. While the military lacked its former size and power, they made up for that loss in collaboration and intelligence. Galactica had long ago proven it could be the lone wolf-the last surviving Battlestar, but having a pack of Battlestars and Escort ships provided more security. In charge of the military, Bill couldn't shirk attendance at even the tedious meetings. Taking note of their discussions, his thoughts constantly returned to his withdrawn wife preparing for the elections.
At least, there was relief in reaching Fallback Omega. Besides joyfully reuniting with Danny 'Bulldog' Novacek, whose infectious and energizing attitude spread to the other pilots, Bill saw how the idea of respite took away some of the haunted looks the survivors carried.
Drawing his attention back to the meeting, he listened to Commander Ariadne Libera—the Commanding Officer he and Secretary Hector both agreed should be assigned to Fallback Omega—give her report on the not-too-shabby stockpile of supplies certain to make the deck gang happy. At the same time, Bill and the other officers walked the length of Spacedock Icarus, a small technical marvel of a station that orbited the planet. They shared their briefings while eagerly touring the station, currently walking past the windows from which they could see the main facility. Much smaller than any other spacedock, the expandable cage-like structure allowed Icarus to complete major construction, but it could service only one Battlestar or a few smaller ships at a time. Discussing the facility, Bill and the others agreed with the priority repair list the President's office created for all the ships in the Fleet. Another business point settled, Bill anticipated the meeting ending soon and tried not to brood on Helo's death or the elections..
The last topic was Cain's report on her interrogation of members of the Demand Peace Movement. She revealed that they'd learned about two remaining Cylons the group was hiding. Marines had quickly located the two Cylons during an intense search of the Fleet and both were executed on the President's orders before either could get an inkling of the Fleet's location. During the second execution two guards staged a muttered conversation—at Starbuck's suggestion—which conveniently mentioned a binary pulsar where the Fleet was located just loud enough for the condemned Doral to hear. The other Commanders and Cain snickered; in actuality, such a stellar phenomenon was nowhere near Fallback Omega, and they delighted in imagining the wild goose chase the Cylons would be on as they searched for the remnants of humanity.
...
Over on Colonial one, they waited for the Colonial Gang's latest news broadcast. Until then, people flittered in and out of the President's office, and Laura felt like the leader of a small beehive. Unfortunately, the buzzing and droning of everyone in her office gave her a growing headache. Her aides handed off reports to each other and corroborated data on behalf of their boss as they prepared for the coming election. The rustling of paper filled Laura's office nonstop as her team poured over the information available to them.
Laura appreciated their help, but the click-clacking of high heels or smart business shoes and the whispered voices strategizing all around put her on edge. Throughout the morning she'd paced the length of her office until Colonial One seemed less like a spaceship and more like a zoo with her feeling like a caged lioness whose handlers tried to keep her tamed. She retreated to the corner of her office, more at ease where no one could sneak up on her. Glancing up at the clock, she noted there were fifteen minutes until Colonial Gang's gaggle of reporters attempted to report on the news. With the election days away, Laura needed to keep her finger firmly fixed upon the public's pulse via the press.
While waiting, Laura sat not in a chair but on the floor with her back against the bulkhead in order to be beside her little daughter who lay on her stomach on a blanket next to Laura. Not caring about how presidential or unpresidential she looked on the floor, Laura worked through the pile of paperwork in her lap while enjoying Evelyn's newest game. Laura would retrieve the colorful toys gifted to Evie from throughout the Fleet and the baby would bat away each one once they were placed in front of her. The floor might be uncomfortable to sit on, but she preferred the sight of her daughter getting stronger instead of risking another glance in the wrong direction and catching sight of that gods-forsaken planet.
Nearby, Billy sat in one of the comfortable brown leather chairs with his own pile of papers on his lap. He did a decent job of appearing bent over his work but couldn't completely fool his boss.
"Have you become a spy, Billy?" Laura asked her Chief Aide when she felt his eyes on her again. She glanced up and saw Billy grinning sheepishly at her. Shaking her head, Laura plucked up a toy and dropped it back in front of her daughter before turning her attention to the work in front of her. "Working for the enemy?"
"No, ma'am. It's just… the Admiral asked me to, uhh…" Billy floundered as he wondered if that bit of information was a good idea to pass on.
"So you are a spy," Laura sighed and made a mental note to deal with her concerned and overprotective husband later. "At least you haven't turned traitor on me much," she said with traceable amounts of bitterness in her tone. Billy wisely held his tongue on the subject of Tory Foster who'd joined her weasel-of-an-opponent's campaign as his candidate for Vice President. At the opportunity for advancement, Tory had pounced and sunk her claws into the offer without even a courtesy hesitation from even a grain of loyalty to Laura. Tory, master of taking political polls and manipulating people, knew where to strike Laura's campaign for reelection in order to inflict the most damage and boost Wally's campaign. It felt like they had most of the Fleet questioning whether or not she was Pythia's foretold leader or a religious fanatic; a president representing the people or puppet to her military husband; dedicated to her job or busy with a newborn? No doubt one of those topics would be a talking point during the Colonial Gang's news broadcast. Feeling betrayed once again by Tory, Laura would have gladly burned the memories of the woman she'd once counted as a friend. Instead, she pushed them away and looked up at loyal, sweet Billy and gave him a small smile. "And if the Admiral asks, you can tell him I'm fine."
"But are you?"
Laura felt a toy hit her leg, and looked over at her daughter holding her head up off the floor for a moment to see where she'd knocked her plaything. I should be fine. I am fine. Everything is fine, she thought as she traced her daughter's fingers that now opened and closed in a constant search for things to grab onto. She wasn't about to tell Billy that there were moments she could almost feel where she was coming apart at the seams for no good reason. Instead, she looked at the pile of work in Billy's lap and saw an opportunity to talk about anything else. "What have you got there?"
"Requests for leave on the planet. Passengers are getting anxious about getting fresh air—"
"No one, and I mean no one, will set foot on that planet until the military has a foolproof evacuation plan for whoever goes to the surface," Laura said with a voice that had dropped to a dangerously low tone. Her tone with its icy detachment sent chills down Billy's spine and he froze in the middle of his work.
"What happened down there?" Billy found the courage to ask.
"Billy…" Laura warned.
"It was that bad?"
"Yes." Laura closed her eyes and forced a deep breath in and out. "Oh, yes," she repeated but needed a few more breaths before she could look at Billy and his wide, curious eyes. How could her kind-hearted aide hope to understand what happened? His early death meant he only knew the earlier version of the Fleet. She dropped her voice to a mournful, low whisper, keeping their conversation private from curious ears. "We lost something there, Billy. You see, Baltar won that election. He ordered permanent settlement on the planet despite how harsh he knew the environment to be. We struggled just to live and there were shortages of everything: food, medical supplies, and construction materials. Then about a year later, the Cylons arrived and they occupied the planet. You know your history, Billy. You know an occupation isn't pretty. We tried to resist, but what could we do? They'd torture members of the resistance and the resistance was so desperate they resorted to suicide bombing. During that time, the Cylons learned I'd been cured with Hera's blood and were… eager to learn about the effects. I'm not going into more details on that, Billy. By the time we were rescued, everyone was glad to leave," she whispered and her voice cracked.
Pulling herself together, she looked down at her daughter, her visible promise that things were different and that her gods promised life. "We left something behind on New Caprica. After, we became divided and damaged. Nothing could heal how deep the hurts ran," she finished explaining, unable to add more. Laura couldn't forget New Caprica and how, after that planet, humanity had forgotten how to live. Instead the Fleet survived from one jump to the next, but they left behind optimism and the belief in working together. Bitterness festered like an infected wound. Only when Laura neared her own death from cancer did she remember that disengaging and retreating into herself wasn't the answer. With Bill, she found a way to live again even as she died. Now her guidance after experiencing the pain of fulfilling her role as the Dying Leader could help prevent that loss of innocence the Fleet experienced after New Caprica. That's why she had to win the election.
"I wish I'd been there to help you," Billy whispered as his shoulders slumped.
"I wish I'd been able to protect you. But we're here now, and we have a job to do," Laura smiled wearily before she heard the crack of the Colonial Gang's broadcast starting. They both glanced over at the radio, which came to life sputtering the Colonial anthem. There was no mistaking the saracam that dripped off Laura's next words: "Well, let's see what drivel 'freedom of the press' is going to bring us today."
…
A few days passed with the Fleet orbiting Fallback Omega, and Bill finished another shift in CIC. As he strode toward their quarters, Bill envisioned the notecards he expected to find strewn all over their quarters. He'd watch out for broken bits of pencil, but because they were much harder to replace, Laura's pragmatic side wouldn't let her break too many. Nodding to the guards at the hatch, he grinned at the many memories of her quirky and unfailing habit: from that first time she'd made a mess of his quarters, to the countless pre-debate preparations he'd witnessed in their home on Caprica. He fondly recalled watching Liam's toddler game of jumping from torn card to torn card as they fell to the floor around his mother. Bill stepped through the hatch and froze.
Not a single slip of paper lay on the floor.
A feeling of disquiet settled in his chest as he closed the hatch. He searched around but discovered no trace of torn paper anywhere. Instead, Laura was still on the couch, her notecards loosely held in her hands. She looked lost in a world of her own, one Bill knew was filled with unpleasant memories. Her posture betrayed nothing as she held herself upright and certain with a subdued regality, yet an uneasy silence surrounded her. Bill knew Laura was a fine rhetorician, as good at public speaking as he was at flying; she couldn't be doubting her ability to hold her own in the debate.
He knelt down before her, covering her hands with his and caught her attention.
"I'm fine," she promised before he could ask, as if that could convince him.
"I've told you that you're the strongest woman I know," he said and studied her with a patient and kind gaze. He wanted to see her flushed and sparkling with amusement as her lovely giggles escaped, but accepted how heavily reality weighed on them. He gave her hands a gentle squeeze. "But you're not fine and I wish I could help."
"You do help. Everyday. I'm just tired, Bill. Really." Meeting his gaze, she gave him a small but genuine smile. A knock on the hatch caught their attention before Billy poked his head in and warned her that it was time to go. Laura thanked him politely and looked down at Bill. Her shoulders slumped. Her face turned paler than he thought possible, and her eyes fixed on him. This close to her, it didn't take him long to realise she was scared. "What can I say, Bill? Wally sounds reasonable. Cylons are our enemy, so why have I allowed two to live? The planet looks habitable enough, so why not settle? I might be too close to the military, so why not elect someone else? The religious angle makes some people uneasy, so why not elect a sane-sounding candidate? And my biggest argument is that I've seen the future and know what mistakes to try to avoid. As we have discussed over the years, they make psychiatric facilities for people who talk like that! Although I suppose those are all gone now," Laura said bitterly. "All Wally can see is how we failed to stop the attacks or save Marcie, so what else will we fail at? I might be losing the election again, and I'm just so, so tired."
"None of this is fair, Laura. It wasn't the first time and it's almost worse being asked to go through this again."
"But our memories gave us the chance to be together again. We were able to have Liam and Evie. You protected Zak. I think of them and feel guilty about ever being angry over going through this again. If we didn't, we wouldn't have them and that's… unacceptable." Laura shook her head, trying to banish such thoughts."Now, is your offer to fly me to Cloud Nine for the debates still on the table?"
"Of course," he said as he stood and then tugged Laura up from the couch by her hands. He leaned forward and kissed her forehead. "You're the right choice, Laura. I believe in you."
Laura opened her mouth to reply, but couldn't get the words past the constricted feeling in her throat. Stepping away from her, Bill picked up Evie from her cradle, who gazed at him with sleepy eyes. They could leave her with Maya, but Bill preferred spending some time holding Evie—even if it was during the debates. He didn't get enough of that simple joy. She settled against his shoulder, one curious, grasping hand finding his rank insignia and deciding it a fascinating object to hold onto. Laura smiled at them, softening a bit after their talk. "Let's go. I wanna watch you wipe the floor with the competition. Reminds me to stay on your good side." A surprised snort of laughter came from Laura at his joke, and Bill grinned with success.
…
Boasting the most impressive facilities in the Fleet, Cloud Nine eagerly provided the arena for a political showdown. Wally refused to allow the debates to be held on Galactica, arguing that it provided Laura a homefield advantage.
Entering the small auditorium of the luxury liner, Laura noticed the gleaming lacquered wood of its seats. Blue velvet curtains hung as a backdrop on the stage, and she smelled the expensive potpourri the liner still possessed—a cloying, too-sweet smell, she thought. She spent most of her time either on Galactica or Colonial One and had become more accustomed to metallic greys, stale air, and simplicity. People in the Fleet wanted to cling to a shadow of their lives before the apocalypse. Laura had moved on to preventing more loss.
The moderator at the microphone noticed Laura's arrival and announced her to the auditorium and those listening over talk-wireless. Laura smiled and drifted up the aisle toward the stage with an experienced grace while her aides and bodyguards trailed behind her. Billy tried to look older than his years even though there was no hiding his youthful buoyancy. Between Billy and the moderator also announcing the presence of members of the First Family, Laura choked back a fit of giggles. The honorific still sounded bizarre when used in conjunction with her family; she'd had no one to apply it to in the previous timeline. If the moderator decided to call her husband the First Gentlemen it would provoke an uncontrollable case of giggles—even if the title technicality fit. Thankfully, everyone stuck with "Admiral Adama".
He stayed in the back of the auditorium, watching and supporting from a distance while keeping Evie out of the spotlight, though a few reporters tried to snap pictures of the child the Fleet looked to as the sign of hope promised by the gods.
Stepping onto the stage, Laura sized up her opponent with each measured step she took. Wally appeared cool and composed beside his podium. He met her at the center for a handshake between rivals and flashes from eager photographers captured the moment.
"It's nothing personal, Laura," he said, keeping a smile plastered on his face as they shook hands. The press wouldn't take to him scowling down at his opponent.
"Of course not, Wally," she replied smoothly. "You're smart enough to know there's more important things at stake than vengeance. It's practical to me too, not personal." Lifting her chin and meeting his gaze, she silently told him that she could take whatever he was about to dish out in the debate. She smiled. "Good luck."
Rivalry established between the two, conveyed in sugared tones and polite gestures, they dropped the handshake. Parting with their heads held high and thundering hearts, they moved behind their respective podiums. Gripping the sides of her podium, Laura looked over the auditorium and at the many reporters with recording devices pointed at them and felt a rippling undercurrent of anxiety. This was their last debate, and yet Laura kept returning to what she considered the least relevant fact of the election—she'd never wanted to be President of the Colonies.
The moderator, a Mr. James McManus from the Colonial Gang's staff of reporters, looked between the two candidates and spoke into the microphone to welcome them both. They smiled politely and acknowledged the crowd's welcoming applause while McManus continued, "Tonight we will hopefully cover the issues of most concern to our voters. We look forward to hearing you articulate your policies and positions. President Roslin, any opening remarks?"
She tried to remember her talking points while looking at the auditorium of survivors. So many people in the Fleet fought against a breaking paralysis that came from deep despair at their reality. Hope: it gave people the will to live and persevere and stand in the face of a future that threatened to be dark and bleak, and Laura was suddenly glad she hadn't memorized her gloomy cards. Taking a deep breath, she instead spoke from the heart and conveyed her belief that they could survive and find a way to thrive again. She focused on the need for collaboration and cooperation with her desire to help lead their efforts. She touched on what she'd already accomplished as President and her desire to continue. Having stayed away from a message of fear, her strong opening pleased her. She smiled while finishing, "I'm willing to continue fighting to preserve Colonial society and am dedicated to rebuilding a foundation for our people. I want to see it passed on to my children, to all our children."
The moderator thanked her and turned to Wally.
"I have counted Laura Roslin among my friends for many years. After losing friends and family, I'm sure you all can imagine what it costs me to break with her and run for the presidency. It's not a decision I take lightly, but you can see the depth of my concern about the survival of the Fleet. I watched President Adar be deceived by the Cylons when they came with their promises of peace. Now, despite our history, President Roslin has allowed Cylons to live in the Fleet, using her power to pardon them without trial. Our Fleet has reached a refuge where we can make a new life, but I fear my old friend would have us chase the dream of Earth to the ends of the galaxy and cling to a fantasy while so many of us still struggle with reality. Now, I have not ascended to a religious prophetic status like my colleague. How could a humble science-loving person like me hope to win the election?" Laura tried not to scoff at Wally, the Caprican-born and Could Nine resident, casting himself as the underdog of the election. People loved seeing the so-called 'little guy' win, and Laura wondered if they'd be so easily fooled. Frak, frak, frakkity frak, she thought while listening to him play the people like a fiddle. He and Tory knew which buttons to push in an election and his voice is like nails on a chalkboard. "But I will be a president for the people. Thank you."
After the opening remarks, it didn't take long for the debate to wind up. They started with the tamer subjects of Fleet education and economy. Comments were addressed politely and they each calmly poked holes in their opponent's ideas. Even so, as they moved toward sensitive subjects, they imagined a ticking time bomb waiting to go off between the two of them.
Wally's voice became louder with his impassioned beliefs. "Our people are suffering because of the mistakes made by Adar's government and the military being unable to protect us. I would note President Roslin's connection to both groups."
"I have a feeling that by the end of this evening, you'll be blamed for everything that's ever happened."
"We need to have at least one new leader, or are we to be a military dictatorship? Has nepotism survived the apocalypse?"
"Are you saying I shouldn't have married my husband because he'd be an Admiral one day? That seems ridiculous; although, if I had to make that choice over again, I wouldn't choose differently."
"You're too close to the military. Our government needs to function for the people first." The words were delivered with a well-intentioned belief in his position, but it triggered the fear in Laura of the timeline repeating no matter what she did. The moderator moved them on to other topics.
"The strategic significance of—"
"While President Roslin has excellent education policies, having after all been the Secretary of Education, I'm not sure she understands the threat Cylons pose to the Fleet. After all, her family survived the attack, so she hasn't experienced loss like the rest of us have," Wally said, and his argument packed a powerful punch.
Laura visibly flinched as memories of her lost family assaulted her mind. "You're distorting the real issues before us, Wally."
"The issue is the survival of humanity."
"The Sharon Cylons in this Fleet have renounced their people and contributed to that survival."
"Did they also promise peace?" Wally asked. Laura waited for him to continue, to make a point. Her silence disconcerted Wally, but the murmurs in the crowd suggested he'd gained ground with them.
The quiet lull as the two opponents assessed each other gave the moderator a moment to jump in.
"Let's get the candidates to respond to Dr. Baltar's report; I have a copy of it here. A respected scientist before the attacks, Dr. Baltar in his initial tests of the planet's surface cautions against settlement on the planet. Much of the planet, he concludes, is barely habitable."
Laura's mouth dropped open in shock. Her thoughts screamed in her head, a barrage of a thousand memories. She saw New Caprica in her mind, the dust and dirt, resistance meetings and pain. A cold rage settled on her at the doctor's report, wishing it had come a good deal sooner.
"This is a rest stop. Once repairs are complete we can continue our journey. There's a home out there waiting for us," she managed to grind out.
"I agree we need a home. Dr. Baltar's report should be corroborated because there could be a way to live on the planet within the safety it provides. People are ready for real food and real air. I fear that President Roslin will discount every planet in a quest to find Earth, which may or may not be real."
"It is real," Laura snapped.
"Are we to be trapped by visions and prophecies?"
"We're trying to find a sustainable future for this fleet!"
"We can't run forever."
Laura bit her lip in dismay. Every muscle felt taut, every joint dully aching. She felt hot, the bright lights of the auditorium having beat down on them for the whole debate. Vision, prophesies, Fleet security, loss, New Caprica; she was so tired of it all.
"No, we can't. But don't we deserve better?"
McManus tapped his microphone to get their attention. He thanked them for their time and thoughtful response to their questions before announcing the conclusion to the debate. While McManus told the Fleet about voting in the next few days, Wally approached Laura for a final handshake.
"Better make this quick, your husband is waiting for you and it looks like he'd love to take a swing at me. What is it about you that attracts powerful men?"
"I didn't notice."
"Do you miss Adar, Laura? You and he..." Laura recoiled from the handshake, not letting Wally finish. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed the rapt attention of several reporters. Wally had fired his last bit of ammunition: an implication of infidelity to undermine her support within her strongest circles—the religious and the military.
"Why are you doing this?" Laura asked her one-time friend.
"Because I'm willing to do whatever it takes whatever the cost."
"Whatever the cost?" Laura asked, and her voice dropped to a low whisper no one could overhear. "Have you ever been tortured? Experimented on? I should describe it for you in detail sometime and maybe then you'll start to realize how aware I am of the danger we are in and what I've endured to help ensure humanity wasn't obliterated." The light in her eye wasn't of friendship, but rather more like a flame that pierced with deadly cold.
"My gods, Laur—"
"Go frak yourself."
As if summoned by her distress, Laura noticed Bill standing in the front of the stage, his silver-streaked brown hair catching the stage lights. The child sleeping on his shoulder and drooling on his uniform caused a distraction in the press and she used the moment to slip down and join them. She had her strengths and weaknesses in the debates, but now she was exhausted and looked at Bill in a silent plea: get me out of here.
They walked away while reporters fired questions at their backs. At this point, her plan was to stay silent and hope she'd done enough.
...
The second they crossed into the safe, private haven of their quarters, Bill watched Laura make a bee-line for the couch and collapse. She appeared as drained as any boxer after a prizefight and rubbed at her temples to relieve what he assumed to be a splitting headache. He suggested she kick off her shoes and get comfortable while he settled Evie down. Laying the baby in her crib, Bill strategized; their marriage sometimes required having a war-plan before dealing with each other. His stubborn wife was deeply troubled and after today, he couldn't let it go. Pouring two glasses of water, he decided there would be no more Fleet business that night; he knew she'd spent all day working through calls, requests, and demands from the civilian captains before also enduring the debate.
Looking around as he shuffled back to the couch, the lack of torn cards was another jarring sign of how down she felt. He knew it might seem unfair to push her when she wasn't at her best, but he instincts told him to try. He knew and loved her better than anyone, and refused to let her get swept away in the storm created by amnesia, elections, Fallback Omega, and the Apocalypse in general.
She'd already fallen asleep when he returned, and her head lolled back onto the couch while her jacket was only partly taken off. He shook his head. Setting the water down, he eased her blazer off. She stirred slightly, but he decided to let her rest. He laid a blanket over her.
"Remind me to flip the laundry?" she sleep-muttered to him, dreaming of their average life on Caprica. A pang shot through his heart as Bill missed their house and their life.
"Sure," he said.
"Liam played with your model ship."
"I'll talk to him."
"Read to me?"
"Of course."
"Best husband," Laura murmured and unconsciously burrowed deeper into the blanket. Bill chuckled, enjoying sleepy Laura with her unguarded softness and honest endearments. Plucking a book from the shelf behind them, he settled beside her and read.
After half an hour passed, Bill realized Laura was likely out for the night. It relieved him to see her sleeping. Standing over her, he carefully moved to pick her up, glad that sparring with three sons kept him muscled, if not trim.
...
Cylons flooded Laura's cell with light, and she felt trapped in the brightness. The walls closed in on her even though she knew they couldn't be moving. When she shut her eyes she could see Bill, and so she kept her eyes slammed shut. Her body was racked with exhaustion, and she feared the coming pain. Cavil had hidden needles and questions. All she wanted was to be left alone. Why couldn't they just leave her alone?
She didn't hear her cell creak open, but felt someone touch her sore body. She tensed and adrenaline flooded her system. Her brain urged her to fight and escape, but she froze. Her eyes fluttered open, and it was a mistake: a dark silhouetted figure stood over her and closed in on her.
"No, please!" she begged. Her heart beat wildly in her chest, and she gasped for breath. Anxiety overtook her, and she trembled uncontrollably. She tried pushing the figure away. Fighting never helped, but she needed to try.
"I don't know anything. I swear. I don't know anything," she whimpered and protested. Recoiling away from the figure, she fell sprawled out on the floor tangled in a blanket that only increased her distress. Her chest felt constricted as if she weren't getting enough air. Tears pricked in her eyes as she heard the man speaking. No more Cylon mind games, please, she mentally begged.
...
"Bill, where are you?" Laura pleaded for him, but as he reached out to touch his wife she slapped his hand away. Her terrified eyes darted around the room trying to understand her surroundings. Bill had never seen her like this, and her absolute terror was like a knife in his own heart.
"I'm right here."
"I won't tell you anything."
"What's going on?"
"BILL!" Laura's scream was blood curdling. Bill had never heard so much pain and anguish in one awful sound, ripped from the throat of the woman he loved. It shook him to his very core. Her ringing scream vibrated in his ears, and in the distance, Evie woke and cried. When Liam rushed into the room, Bill ordered him to get Cottle before turning back to Laura.
"Laura, honey, it's me. It's Bill. You're on Galactica."
"I don't know where he is."
"Focus on my voice..."
Please, leave me alone!" She cried, and although every fiber of his being wanted to gather her in his arms, he moved back to give her some space. She'd been tortured because of him, because of their connection, and he felt a choking guilt at that knowledge. He compartmentalized his anguish, and focused on her, whispering calming words to bring her out of her flashback. She was on the edge of hyperventilating; her chest rose and fell as she gasped for air.
"Laura, it's me. Bill. Your husband."
"No more…"
"We're on Galactica. I promise you're safe, but you gotta breathe, please," Bill urged, hoping to break through to her. He tried to think of how to bring her back from wherever her mind had dragged her. Instinctively, Bill took her hand, hoping he was doing the right thing, and placed it on his cheek.
"I'm right here, Laura." His own voice sounded gravely, deep and so desperate. "Feel me. Look and see our quarters. Smell the air, leather and paper," he said, guiding her to the sensory cues that would let her know she wasn't in a Cylon prison anymore. After a moment, he felt her caressing his cheek with her thumb, feeling the tell-tale scars and he'd never been so glad for the old wounds. Her trembling hand traced his features, touched his hair, and trailed down to his rank insignia.
"Bill?" Her green eyes were clearer, but filled with tears. Seeing she'd come back to reality, he eased down onto the floor next to her. He heard her release a choked sob.
"Oh, Laura," he carefully pulled her into the safety of his arms, feeling his heartache at her anguish, "You're alright," he said against her ear, rubbing her back gently and letting her gasp and cry. "Keep breathing."
She cried for some time, unable to ebb the intense flow of emotions coursing through her. Bill spoke to her gently, caressing her with infinite tenderness to try to soothe her. She sobbed into his chest, finally breaking under the strain she'd been under, and Bill tried his best to comfort her. Mostly he just held her tight and let her cry as her mind cleared.
Suddenly, Cottle knelt down next to them, concerned eyes assessing the scene. Meanwhile,Liam must have gone to comfort Evie as the baby quieted down.
"Flashback," Bill explained. "She's never experienced anything like this before." He knew his eyes were begging the doctor to help. Cottle, lacking all trace of his usual gruff demeanor, simply nodded. He motioned toward the rack and suggested getting her to a more comfortable place. Both men knew to move quietly and softly, not wanting to startle her. "You're okay, Laura. I'm going to take you to our rack now, alright?" Bill made no sudden movements, but carefully picked Laura up and eased her onto the rack. Cottle examined her, asking questions when needed. Bill noted how Laura gripped his hand and refused to let go.
"I'm sorry," she whispered, shame tinging her words.
"Laura, it's not your fault," Cottle began gently. "Physically, you are fine. Exhausted, but healthy. You're suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder. Frankly you've had more than your fair share of traumatic events to have had me wondering if this might happen, so I've kept an eye out for the symptoms. Flashbacks, nightmares, and panic attacks are just some some. They can be debilitating if not addressed."
"What do we do?" Bill asked, clearly determined to help his wife.
"Medication to even out any neurochemical imbalance. Manage the symptoms. Conventional therapy might not be the best choice, but talking and processing what bothers you, young lady, will help the most," Cottle explained gently. He shook a pill out onto his palm and handed it to Laura. "Mild sedative to get your heart rate down and help you sleep tonight. Rest for now, Laura. You need it."
Patting her hand, he stood and motioned for Bill to walk him out the hatch.
"I'll send some information over in the morning on how to help someone going through this," he said.
Bill rubbed a hand over his face, reliving the agonizing moments. "I've never seen her like that, Doc. She's been withdrawn after the amnesia but…"
"If I can be honest for a moment," Cottle began, a hint of his growly, grumpy tone returning. "I think reliving those memories while watching you fade finally set her over the edge. She loves you, Bill, and it tore her up feeling helpless while you were dying. Truly, I think she's been able to cope with so much because of the bond you share. That was nearly taken from her at the same time twenty years of trauma was stirred up. She's been tortured, sexually assaulted, kidnapped, and died. Be patient and give her time," Cottle advised. Bill nodded and showed the doctor out of his quarters before heading back to his rack and Laura.
His stomach was in knots, and his neck and shoulders were tense with the need to hurt the Cylons, Zarek, Wally, Adar, and any anyone else who'd hurt her. He felt his fingers unintentionally balling into fists. Bill could rip apart a centurion with his bare hands, and the rage burned in him. Although his failure to protect her threatened to rip him apart, with every step toward the rack, he forced himself to calm down. Laura didn't need a man seeking vengeance on her behalf. She needed him to be there for her, to provide strength and support. So he searched for the calm inside of him as her eyes watched him come back.
Leaning against the rack, he took her hands in his as she reached for him. He gazed into her stormy green eyes. "No matter what happens, Laura, I'll do whatever it takes to keep you and our family safe. No matter what it takes, the Cylons will never touch you again. I promise you," he swore.
Taken aback by the truth in his tone, Laura's wide eyes took in his fierce honesty. He knew she was aware that this side of him existed, but he usually didn't display it so unapologetically.
"As long as you stay safe too," she added in a gentle plea.
…
Author's note: I would love to hear what you think. Not gonna lie, if you liked it I could use some positive reinforcement. Long week.
Someone asked if I have a plan for the ending. I've been working from an outline I created before posting even the first chapter. The ending is mapped out and partly written, and we are getting closer.