Hmmm...in retrospect, I'd say 'Too much introspection," but it's too late now...

Thank you for the generous reviews. This chapter may be a little disappointing, since it's kinda of a lull between events, but I've messed with it as much as I can, and have decided to give up while I'm ahead. At least, I hope I'm ahead...

Disclaimer: If you've heard it once, you've heard it a million...they're just loaners.

Too High a Cost
By: Mariel

-xxxxxxxxxx-

Chapter 16
Intermezzo

Cottle looked up automatically when Meyes entered his office, then quickly trained his eyes back on the chart he was reading. It was the safest thing to do - Dana Meyes had an aptitude for recognising when he had something big on his mind.

When she stopped and looked at him carefully, he groaned inwardly.

When she continued to just stand there, he gathered his strength and inhaled deeply. Looking up at her, he widened his eyes and raised his eyebrows. "What?" he asked innocently. "Got nothing to do, or did I miss a spot shaving?"

Tilting her head to one side, Meyes held his gaze. She was all too familiar with this act. It meant something spectatular had happened that he wasn't ready yet to share. And it was obvious he didn't want her to probe. Modulating her voice into a purposely casual tone, she said, "I'm just signing in, but now that you mention it, you could do with a haircut." The petite brunette paused just long enough a beat for him to think he was maybe off the hook, then asked, "Anything interesting I should know about?"

Cottle mumbled an internal damn it, then bit his tongue and forced his face into a bland mask. Doing everything in his power to resist the impulse to tell her - just seeing the look on her face would have been worth it - he reached for a cigarette. Meyes had a romantic streak in her a mile wide, and on occasion they'd shared some observations about who was with whom, who should be with whom, and etcetera. He generally laughed at her straightforward naivete when it came to matters of the heart - at her age, she should have known better - but he also found himself sometimes wishing it were as easy as she would have it to be. If he weakened now and told her where he'd found the President that morning, he knew damned well she'd do one of her deep knee bend sqeees of joy. He enjoyed seeing her do those, enjoyed seeing her that happy for someone, so it was hard to resist sharing...

But he couldn't.

He eyed her. Not yet, anyway.

Besides, he couldn't understand the medic's inexplicable soft spot for a woman he generally regarded as hard as nails and twice as dangerous. Bill, he figured, could do with all the protection from Madame President he could get. Understanding the depth of emotion that had compelled Laura Roslin to crawl into bed with a man in a coma, he could feel pity for her - but it was easy to get over when he looked at the big picture. The Admiral, in his estimation at least, was too straightforward a man and had too much else on his plate to rest easy with the machinations of a woman like Roslin. Looking at Meyes, he inwardly confirmed his decision. No need, he decided, to create a situation where someone might actively encourage whatever it was Roslin hoped to accomplish with Adama.

Should Adama ever decide to wake up, of course.

So he kept his resolve. "Interesting? Nothing world-shattering," he said curtly. "One of the patients sent over from the Queen yesterday didn't make it through the night, but we expected that. He's been taken to the morgue already. Other than that, it's steady as she goes."

She nodded. Still watching him carefully, she asked, "How is the President this morning? Do you still plan to let her go tomorrow?"

Cottle began to relax. "She's doing fine," he said. "I may keep her a little longer, though. We still don't have blood test results back - and I'm not sure she should be at the beck and call of those vultures in the Quorum. She'll overtax herself and end up back in here if I let her out too soon."

"And the Admiral? How is he doing?"

Remembering the comfortable way the President had been wrapped around him, he grunted.

"Better than most," he muttered under his breath.

Meyes frowned. "Pardon me?"

Cottle cleared his throat. In a normal tone he said, "No change there," and looked at her as though she should be listening better.

Meyes pursed her lips. Whatever it was he was keeping from her was something big, but he wasn't talking. Knowing that once he made up his mind it was hopeless to try to change it, she decided not to press, but to opt for patience.

Slowly, she began to smile. He always, she thought with satisfaction, told her sooner or later.

-xxx-

He'd felt her warmth leave him, but no thought accompanied it. Vaguely aware of sounds and sensations, he lay silently, relaxing as his body gradually slowed its processes into a final rest...

Letting go was easy...

-xxx-

Roslin had barely finished her breakfast when Tory Foster walked in with an armload of files. Laura smiled, welcoming the chance to think of something besides the embarrassment she'd endured earlier that morning.

While Tory got herself settled, however, Laura's thoughts once again drifted to the doctor.

Damn him.

She knew frakking well he'd be looking at her with knowing amusement for the next lifetime.

Her gaze drifted towards Bill. The cat was definitely out of the bag where Cottle was concerned. She'd need to apologise for that when he woke up.

She then felt herself colour at the thought of explaining why Cottle knew.

Once she had her papers and notebooks arranged, Tory stilled, then followed the President's gaze. She sighed softly. When she'd first taken on the job as presidential aide, she'd quickly realised that there was a lot of beneath-the-surface interaction going on between her boss and the Admiral of the Fleet. So much, in fact, that she'd rather taken for granted that they were on their way to something nicely sexual and stress-reducing.

She'd thought it a good idea, all things considered. Yes, there were inherent political difficulties in such an arrangement, but she was sure they'd both be able to keep things quiet. People in power, she'd learned, frakked liked rabbits and were better than most at keeping it confidential. Both Adama and Roslin, she was sure, would be capable of a great degree of discretion. Sex, she'd decided, was just what both of them needed.

At one point, she'd have bet money that they were already involved.

But, though Laura Roslin was a wonderful, decisive president, she sure as hell didn't know how to conduct a personal life. It almost explained how the older woman had remained in a go-nowhere relationship with that sonofabitch Adar for all those years. In any event, when New Caprica happened, Laura Roslin had made some politically expedient decisions she perhaps should not have, and when they'd returned to space, they'd returned to a fleet led by a man who could hardly bear to be in the same room as she.

It had only been then that Tory had guessed that the relationship between Adama and the President had gone deeper than what she had imagined. Adama, she realised, must have somehow learned about Zarek. Laura Roslin's propensity for acting in a politically expedient manner without examining the potential consequences for others had finally caught up with her - on a personal level, at least.

She glanced at Roslin, then back at the Admiral. Roslin had got exactly what she wanted from her relationship with Vice President Zarek - an ear to what was happening in President Baltar's office during their first year on New Caprica. She had also received the somewhat surprising added bonus of a quick move back into the president's chair after their exodus from the planet.

But she'd also lost something - someone, actually - that she obviously wanted back, and she had no idea how to handle it.

Tory sighed. Nice, casual sex. No one seemed to know how to do it any more.

Even Zarek, the idiot, still looked like a wounded caribou. Roslin now treated him in the same casually indifferent but certainly pleasant manner she treated anyone, although she did try to remember to be grateful to him. He'd definitely, however, been relegated to an arms-length position sometime shortly before his alleged incarceration by the cylons. Now, months after their return, he still sometimes wore a what happened look on his face when he looked at the President. It made Tory smile. She didn't care for him, and certainly felt no pity.

As an expert in politically expedient actions, he'd have done the same thing Roslin had, under the same circumstances.

Setting her thoughts aside, she took out her notes to begin the morning's agenda.

Trying to forget the embarrassment of being discovered in Bill's bed, Laura noticed the movement and welcomed the diversion. "This today's lot?" she asked.

Tory nodded. "Yes, ma'am." Settling straight down to business, the aide said, "We've received a few more reports of pilots refusing to carry supplies to the ships more severely hit by the bacterial infection. They're calling them 'plague ships' and claim that delivering goods to them puts them at too great a risk. As private individuals, they feel than cannot be forced to deliver anywhere they don't want to."

Laura frowned. "That's ridiculous. There are people who need what those ships are transporting. The food and medicines they're carrying are vital. They can't-"

"I'm afraid they can, ma'am. And some of them have already."

"But supplies are still getting through?"

"More slowly, but yes. I don't know how long that will last, though. Unless we come up with a vaccine against this stuff, I think we're going to have a real problem. More and more pilots," she explained, "will be too afraid to go anywhere. There are rumours that a strike might be organised to shut down all supply transports."

Not liking the sound of that, Laura sat back. "Keep a close eye on the situation," she told Tory. "I'd like to talk to the military to see what they can do to help us. We need a backup plan, and may need them to help make deliveries. Arrange a meeting for tomorrow if you can. Here, obviously." After Tory nodded and made a note in her agenda, Laura continued, "What about the Quorum?"

The next two hours were spent going over business. There was a lot to plough through: the bacterial outbreak had caused problems in a number of areas; the Quorum wanted to know when they would have direct access to the president; food and water were going to become a problem if the fleet didn't move soon, and there were issues surrounding changes to the Colonial Fleet Education Act. The list, though manageable, seemed endless.

When Dana Meyes entered the room, however, they had just finished wrapping things up.

She nodded at them and apologised. "Sorry for interrupting, I'm just here to check on the Admiral. How are you this morning, Madame President?"

Laura smiled. "I'm fine." Instinctively, her eyes moved towards Bill's bed.

Knowing where the woman's thoughts were headed, Dana assured her, "From what Doctor Cottle tells me, the Admiral is doing just fine, too!"

Cottle...

Laura looked at the medic sharply, then relaxed when she saw no deeper meaning in her words. If she ever learned Cottle had said anything to anyone about this morning, she'd have his balls on a platter.

Tory watched the President with interest. The woman felt uncomfortable about something. She looked over at the Admiral, then back at Roslin, and felt an unaccustomed sense of sadness. She was sure the older woman regretted her 'the end justifies the means' approach to everything in her path - in regard to one instance, anyways. It had cost her her relationship with Adama, and she guessed that the President now realised that cost had been too high.

Meyes busied herself with preparing the personal care items she'd need to attend to the Admiral. With a softly spoken, "Excuse me," she pulled a curtain around the Admiral's bed.

The closing of the curtain also seemed to signal a close to their morning meeting. Gathering the files and folders she needed to leave with, Tory stood and nodded at the President. She would have liked to have said something reassuring, something that would take away the older woman's air of sadness, but knew that no words would help at the moment. Smiling her goodbye, she quietly took her leave.

-xxx-

Snippets of words, warm voices, thoughts...a touch...darkness and oblivion...

...restless memories of crisis and danger and narrow escape...

He recognised the surge of energy, the adrenaline rush of confidently wielding power. Thinking fast, acting faster...orders given and obeyed.

But there were so few left...

Fighting against the urge to feel and act, he pushed himself back into darkness...

-xxx-

Lunch had arrived, been examined and returned, and now Laura prepared herself for the inevitable afternoon visitors. By far the most interesting - and most disturbing - visit would be from Sharon Valerii. She had arrived later in the afternoon and, by accident or design, she arrived when there were no other visitors.

"No Helo today?" Laura enquired when she saw the young woman arrive alone.

Sharon shook her head. "He's on CAP this afternoon. Commander Adama is making sure we stay alert. This is the longest we've remained in one place in quite some time, and it's making him edgy," she told the President.

Laura nodded.

"I wanted to see for myself how the Admiral's doing," Sharon explained. Looking at the person she had really come to see, she asked, "Has he shown any improvement?"

Everyone asked that. Today, the answer disturbed Laura more than she liked to admit.

Not knowing why it bothered her to say it when Cottle had assured her at lunchtime that it was nothing to worry about, she said, "His blood pressure is down and his heartbeat is a little slower. Cottle says it's no cause to worry, though. Otherwise, he's the same as usual."

Sharon walked over to the Admiral's side and looked down at him. Resting her hand on his arm lightly, she turned to look at the President. "The past year was difficult for him."

Laura shifted uncomfortably. Sharon had a way of skipping the social pleasantries and going straight to whatever it was she wanted to say. Having the feeling she might not like the conversation Sharon wanted to have, Laura said, "It was hard on us all. His rescue of us was quite a feat."

"Some would say a foolhardy one," Sharon added.

"Perhaps, but he's a man who does what he believes needs to be done."

There was a warmth in the President's voice that made Sharon look over at her. "Within reason," the cylon tempered. "He always looks at the situation and weighs the cost first."

Roslin looked at her. No point in beating around the bush. "Are you trying to make a point, Lieutenant Valerii?"

"I think you know I am, Madame President."

"To what end?"

Sharon shrugged, and looked back at Adama. "I'm not really sure," she said softly. "If the Admiral doesn't come out of this coma, perhaps it's pointless, but it's important you understand that although the destination is important, how you get there is important, too." Her fingers lightly squeezed his arm. "He's been examining that thought for some time now."

Laura frowned. She didn't need people off the street comin gin to give her advice. And she didn't like this woman, didn't like her quiet, calm manner when pointing out her perceived faults. She was too confident and too serene and far too self-contained. And she - or at least another model of her - had tried to assassinate the man she now stood over and regarded with such care.

Bill's acceptance - fondness, even - for this young cylon was a great source of puzzlement for her..

She didn't like puzzles. Except for the challenge of political intrigue, she liked things neat, tidy and straightforward. For some reason, it was Bill who was more fascinated by philosophical intricacies. It wasn't really a suitable characteristic for someone in his chosen career path, but there you were. That was Bill.

"On Kobol, you were more concerned about trust, if I remember correctly," Laura said.

"I'm still concerned about trust. Trust is what is found at the root of all positive human interaction."

"Something you would know little about," Laura pointed out.

"On the contrary. I have had the experience of learning it very well. And I value it."

Sharon held Roslin's eyes with her own dark ones. "You can't hide from the things you have done, Madam President. Admiral Adama certainly hasn't. Nor has he tried to hide from with others have done. Colonel Tigh calls it 'ass covering'," she quoted crudely, "and that's one way of putting it, I suppose, but whatever you call it, Admiral Adama faced the consequences of other people's actions and dealt with them. He continued to trust until there was no choice but to stop because the betrayals were just too much."

Laura took in her words, then said softly, "There's no physical reason for Admiral Adama's coma, you know. He's given up. Cottle can't explain it any other way."

Sharon blinked at the change in topic, then looked down at him. "The fleet needs him. He makes us better, makes us want to be better. He can't give up."

On this point, Laura was inclined to agree. The fear, however, remained that he had.

To her surprise, Sharon turned. Obviously confident in what she was about to say, she spoke. "He won't give up. He wouldn't. His job isn't done yet. But you need to examine your actions and mend the broken trust between you two." She held the President's gaze a long moment. When the President said nothing, she removed her hand from the Admiral's arm.

"I've got to go now," she said quietly.

After Sharon was gone, Roslin sat staring into space for some time. She'd said goodbye to Bill once: an unsatisfactory note that said nothing. She'd let him go because it had seemed that that was what the Fates had dictated. He had been on the Galactica, she had been left on New Caprica. Barred from seeing him, tired of fighting, she had set her sights on practicalities, and the situation she had then been faced with. No point, she had thought, to regret what couldn't be...

Now she realised she had screwed up royally.

She sighed and redirected her thoughts. Part of her believed that Sharon's stubborn refusal to consider that Bill had given up was a foolhardy inability for the young woman to face reality.

Another part of her clung to the cylon's confidence, and searched for ways to do what she had ordered.

She turned soft green eyes towards him and felt some of the sense of defeat she had felt at times on New Caprica. She hadn't been able to reach him before; how could she reach him now?

-xxx-

Giving up...giving in...

Light and dark and grey and shadow...murmurs and movement...a desire to shift...

His mind travelled intricate paths, exploring, seeking...

Finding...

Too much too soon too old too cold...

Can a ship driven by storm turn into the wind?

End
Chapter 16