Christmas is coming! Many thanks for the gift of your comments - they're appreciated.

I wanted to get this posted before things get too crazy. It may be a while before I post again, but I promise I'm plugging away at things. Cross your fingers for me.

Disclaimer: I claim no dis to BSG or any of its creators.

Too High a Cost
By: Mariel

-xxxxxxxxxx-

Chapter 19

Bridge

Laura watched from across the room as Cottle poked and prodded his newly awakened patient. He asked Bill muted questions she didn't fully hear; Bill quietly rumbled indecipherable answers. Then the tenor of their words changed. Catching a word here and there, she realised that Cottle was bringing the Admiral up to speed not only on his personal state of health but on the fleet's as well.

Her lips thinned. The doctor was taking more upon himself than necessary. She had expected to be the one to fill Bill in on what was happening. She'd wanted that excuse; had wanted that connection. And was he really even in good enough health to have the worry of what was presently happening put on him?

She sighed, recognising that last thought for what it was. Bill was awake. He was all right. He had to be - hell, he'd woken up trying to solve their problems, hadn't he?

She watched the two men and felt overwhelmed. This wasn't how she'd imagined him waking. This wasn't how she'd imagined things would be. He wasn't how she'd imagined. She fought against a sense of anticlimax, of what now?

He had barely acknowledged her presence. She didn't know her footing; didn't know where she stood or how they would be.

Somewhere on the edge of her consciousness, she felt lost. Separated. Frightened.

Alone.

They were feelings she was unaccustomed to, and they made her feel something else she didn't like: uncomfortable.

-xxx-

Focussed on the Admiral, Cottle was not at first aware of the President's silence. When it did appear on his radar, he ignored it. He knew that Bill being back would take some adjustment on Roslin's part. She and Adama would have lots of time to sort things out between them, though. Right now, he needed to make sure that the Bill who had just woken up had all the faculties of the Bill who had gone into a comma.

To his relief, Bill answered all his questions correctly, at times even adding a sprinkling of his own brand of spare humour. It had felt good to relax into that; he'd missed it.

Not trusting Roslin to tell him everything, he'd also taken time to bring Adama up to speed on the bacterial infection and its effect on the fleet. He'd failed to tell Bill what he knew once and would never forget the look of betrayal on Adama's face when they'd first talked after the revelation that Hera was alive - or the look of disappointed acceptance that he, too, had failed him. He darted a look at Roslin. Why he'd listened to her, he'd never know. Why he'd followed her orders and kept quiet about what he'd done was an even bigger mystery.

Never again.

And all the more reason, he figured, to believe that in the long run she was bad for Bill. Very, very bad...

Finishing up, he stepped back and looked at his patient. There was no real explanation for him being conscious, any more than there was a reason he was alive and basically healed of wounds that ought to have killed him. Putting his stethoscope back into his pocket, Cottle frowned and grudgingly said, "You appear to be fine; I guess you'll live."

"Don't look so broken up about it," Bill said in a dry tone. Wincing again, he asked, "Why am I so sore here?" he asked, touching a spot on his side.

Cottle grunted. Go figure: the man had been shot twice, had his insides messed around like crazy, and the only thing that bothered him was something that had happened to him before that. "It should hurt a hell of a lot more in a lot of other places. But there," he said, gesturing with his hand, "is where you've managed to crack a bone. Nothing too serious, just a pain to live with. You did it to yourself a while before you got shot, though. You must have noticed it when it happened - it would have hurt a lot more then. It had already started to heal by the time I got you here."

Bill frowned. Again an effort to remember was rewarded. His face cleared. "I had to dodge some gunfire when I first found Kara and Lee. I fell pretty hard."

"You're too old to fall pretty hard. Next time fall softer," Cottle admonished. "Don't worry, though, it'll heal fine." Pulling out his timepiece, he continued, "I'm going to let your son and Colonel Tigh back in for a few minutes. They were pretty serious about wanting to finish their conversation with you." He paused, then said, "Lee was shot, too, Bill. In the arm. The bullet was a through and through, so he's healing just fine. He gave up the sling a few days ago and is just in a light bandage now."

Adama frowned. He hadn't noticed anything. Then again, Cottle hadn't allowed him much time to. Trying to think, he finally said, "I don't remember him getting shot."

"You wouldn't. It happened after you and the President were shot. After Lee and Kara found you, the cylons found them."

Laura had sat on her bed and listened to the two men talk without speaking. Fighting her disappointment that she would have no time alone with Bill before Lee and Saul were allowed back in, she finally joined into the conversation. "He says it doesn't bother him at all now. The bandage is small enough you don't even see it under his uniform."

Bill looked across the room at her, then turned back towards Cottle.

Cottle looked at him. "He's fine. Honest."

Bill nodded. "I'd like to see them now. We need to get this mess sorted out."

Cottle walked to the door. Opening it, he found both Tigh and Lee leaning up against the opposite wall. Motioning them in, he gave orders about keeping it brief and not overtaxing the patient, then grudgingly fell into a watchful silence.

As Lee walked across to the bed, father and son shared a long look of relief.

"So, you got a plan?" Lee asked, his eyes warm.

He knew his father; knew he'd have worked something out.

"Yeah," Bill said. He didn't know how he knew what he knew about the present situation, but the information was there and he had used it. His rough, deep voice quietly reassuring, he said, "I think so. Valerant's a problem. He's a loose canon, and we need to get to him. Jason DeCourt is the best man to help us do that."

Tigh's brows furrowed. Out in the hallway, he'd remembered that the man Bill was talking about was someone who had been assigned to Bill's personal security detail for the past two years or so. Why the Admiral thought DeCourt should talk to Valerant, however, he'd been unable to figure out.

"Why should Valerant listen to DeCourt when he wouldn't frakking listen to the Vice President of the Twelve Colonies?" he asked grumpily.

"Trust," Adama promptly replied. "When there's trust, it's easier to stay calm and listen; it's easier to see sense, and it also makes it easier to do the right thing, even if it's not what you want to do."

"And why would Valerant trust DeCourt?" Tigh asked.

Adama cleared his throat. "It's a very small world now. They're family. Brothers-in-law, actually, and from what I remember, they get along well."

"How the frak do you know that?"

Bill winced as he tried to adjust himself in the bed. He'd always worked on the premise that it was important to know something about the lives of the people he commanded. That was why he'd known about DeCourt's sister's wedding. He'd heard of the man she was marrying, because Richard Valerant was a pilot. He knew that because after the destruction of Caprica he had quickly made it his business to get profiles of everyone in the civilian fleet who could fly. Information like that was important to have; you never knew when you might need it.

Not wanting to go into detail, Bill simply answered, "I hear things."

Tigh grunted. "Yeah, well, Valerant's a malcontent."

"Valerant's a man who feels he has legitimate concerns. He's a damned good pilot. He's also a decent man. That's probably why people are listening to him. Right now, he doesn't know who to believe or who to trust." He slid a quick look towards Roslin, then continued, "The President is right: people are panicked, and panicked people do stupid things. They won't stop to look at what they're doing until they've stopped being afraid, and they won't stop being afraid until someone they trust tells them something they can believe. He'll trust what DeCourt tells him," Bill insisted.

Lee cleared his throat uncomfortably. "Only if DeCourt believes what he's saying. What are we going to tell him?"

He turned steady blue eyes towards his son. "We're going to tell him the truth: that we need supplies to get through, regardless of how hard hit a ship is by the infection. We're going to tell him we'll soon have a vaccine against the bacteria and that the civilian pilots doing supply runs will be the first to receive it. We're also going to tell him that the military will be helping with supply runs until the crisis is over, and that we want him to work out where the military can best help."

Tigh and Lee shared a surprised glance.

"How will we manage the manpower?" Lee asked.

"We just will," Adama said confidently. "I understand the Colonel's concerns about manpower, but you and Kara can work out the schedules. I'm not saying all our pilots, I'm saying a couple a day for a shift or so. We're a lot more used to working overtime than the civilians are."

"And you're going to let Valerant tell us what to do?" Tigh asked in a slightly belligerent tone.

"I'm going to let him tell us where we can help the most," Bill corrected. Remembering his days serving on a merchant fleet civilian freighter, he said, "We're not expert in doing ship-to-ship supply runs, Saul; he is. There's no loss of face in acknowledging that." He also knew that psychologically speaking, he'd get a lot more mileage out of the civilians if they felt that they were in control.

Thinking his friend was putting an awful lot of trust in a man he'd never met, Tigh said a doubtful, "Aye, aye, sir," and regarded the President carefully to gauge her reaction. Though she had not participated in the conversation, she had moved over to stand with them and had been following their words closely. When she made no move to demur, he said, "I'll go find DeCourt, then."

"I want to talk to him myself," Bill said. "He-" he paused, trying to remember what he had been about to say. His face went blank as he realised he had no idea.

Cottle had been watching Bill closely. He'd seen the expected burst of energy and mental acuity, and recognised the signs indicating it was about to plummet. Knowing it was time to step in, he spoke. "Not for another hour, you won't," he ordered. "You've been in a coma and you still don't fully have your memory back. I need to run some tests, and you need to rest a bit."

Adama sighed. "You don't need to run anything. It's okay. I'm awake. I feel fine."

Cottle snorted and stepped closer. "Bully for you. Until you've got a medical degree to back up that 'feeling' of yours, I'll make the assessments on your condition, thank you very much."

When Bill closed his eyes without a fight, Cottle patted himself on the back.

Turning to the other two men, he pointedly looked at the door. "Don't you two have a ship to fly?"

Lee and Tigh left without argument. Cottle looked over at Roslin. She'd barely said a word since Bill had regained consciousness.

That wasn't like her at all.

His eyes narrowed. "You all right?" he asked her gruffly.

She shook her head, but said, "I'm fine." She had wanted more than once to say something during the conversation - hadn't liked, in fact, the feeling of being forgotten once Bill got started. She wasn't sure that his plan would work; wasn't sure that Bill's faith in reasoning and trust was warranted.

She had also, however, remembered Sharon's words, and refrained from voicing her reservations.

"I trust him," the cylon had said. "...Maybe you should stop questioning and let yourself trust him, too..."

"Then get into bed," Cottle admonished her. "You're still not one hundred per cent, and I don't want you bothering the Admiral."

Her back stiffened, but she moved towards her bed wordlessly.

She lifted the sheet to get in, then turned. "I believe you were just leaving, doctor?"

He nodded slightly. "You believe correctly, ma'am. Meyes will be in shortly to take your vitals." Turning to Bill, he said, "Dana Meyes is the medic I've had taking care of you. She'll unhook you from some of the stuff we've got tying you down. Then she'll see about you having a try at standing up. I'd like you to make it to the bathroom and back. The walk will do you good."

Bill grunted. So would losing the catheter.

Glancing between Roslin and Adama, Cottle said, "I'll see you both in about an hour." He shot a look at Roslin and added, "Behave while I'm gone."

Laura glared at him and slid under the sheets.

Once Cottle had finally left, she sighed in relief. Settling against her pillows, she looked at Bill, glad for these few moments alone...and was disappointed to see that his eyes were closed.

-xxx-

Even with his eyes closed, he knew she was there. He could feel her presence in the room and both wanted her gone and wanted her closer. His brow furrowed as his brain synapses kicked in, coughing up another random memory... Kobol's sun warming his back as she moved beneath him, her skin soft against his, her hair spread against the ground...

He opened his eyes and looked across the room at her. With eyes as green as they had been that day, she stared back at him.

Neither knew what to do with what they saw.

End
Chapter 19