The holidays are over and here I am, back again. Sorry for the delay, but with no computer for the past week...I'm sure you can feel my pain...

Thanks to everyone who is still reading. (I'm impressed and made happy by your perseverance!) To those of you who comment anonymously, thank you. I can't reply, but I do appreciate your dropping a note to let me know you're reading.

For a number of reasons, I'm feeling as though I'm spinning my wheels a bit in this chapter, so forgive me that. Hopefully, things will speed up a bit in the next couple of chapters. The end has to be getting near..


Too High a Cost
By: Mariel

-xxxxxxxxxx-

Chapter 20

Turning

Now alone, Bill and Laura sat in their respective Life Station beds and stared at one another wordlessly.

Trying to decipher what she saw in his expression and failing, Laura shifted her eyes. Her hands moved restlessly. "Well," she finally said. The soft susurration balanced awkwardly in the air between them, then slowly faded into silence.

She tried again.

"You had me - us - worried, Bill. It's good to have you back." The words sounded stilted. She felt stilted. At a loss for anything more to say, she waited for his response.

Still not totally orientated, he focussed on the immediate: "What are you doing here?" His voice was gruff, and whether or not he intended to hurt her with its tone, he did.

Her response to that hurt was immediate. With more than a hint of resentment, she asked, "Cottle didn't tell you during your little catchup session?"

"You didn't come up as a topic of conversation," he fired back.

His words were a lie. In his need to know, he'd willingly risked revealing far too much by asking after her. Cottle, with an irritatingly perceptive gleam in his eye, had explained that the PResident had been shot at the same time as he, then quickly assured him that she was doing well - but that she was quite concerned about him. Distrusting the descrepancy between the knowing smirk on the doctor's face and the matter-of-fact tone he affected when responding, Bill had stopped all further questioning, which was why he now had no idea why, if she was as healthy as Jack claimed, she was still in Life Station - or why she was in the same room as he.

"I'm here because this is where I was put," she told him in a short tone. "There are places I'd rather be, believe me."

The joy of seeing him awake was slipping like sand through her fingers, leaving only the grit of their failed relationship in her palms. Something twisted inside her, and her stomach churned. This wasn't how it was supposed to be - wasn't how she wanted it to be.

Adama felt the tension in the air between them, knew it had to do with him and his reaction to her and found he had no inclination to do anything about it. With a sigh, he settled his head further into his pillow. Closing his eyes, he said wearily, "I'm too tired for this. Let's not talk. We do better when we don't."

He was right. Her heart was hurting and her brain was tired and she truly didn't feel up to talking herself. But gods, she felt wounded by his continued remoteness, and hated that she wanted from him what she couldn't have. He was alive and here, and she wanted to listen to his voice, wanted him to look at her the way he had used to; wanted the strength she drew from knowing she had his support.

But the support was gone.

She felt its absence and her need for it so strongly it made her weak.

Weak...Grimacing, she moved uncomfortably. The idea that someone might need another to make them stronger as an individual seemed wrong to her. It was a contradiction in terms; you were either strong or not. Emotional attachments led to weakness, not strength. Independence, strength of purpose, a focus on one's goals and ultimately, no ties that bound...those things made for a good, decisive leader and she'd always believed that they made for good relationships, too.

Bill Adama had taught her differently on both levels. Leadership necessitated all of the things she had listed, perhaps, but he somehow forged connections with people that strengthened both himself and those he led.

Personal relationships, she had learned, took more risks...

Love required still more...

Love. With the silence stretching taut and troubled between them, love was a word she would rather not consider. Back on Kobol, when she had finally spoken the word aloud, she'd watched Bill reject it and walk away. Perhaps he had been right to. She had certainly tried to set it aside herself. Where people and emotions were concerned, she liked to think of herself as a pragmatist. But somewhere, somehow, something had changed, and love had followed her here anyway...

Hating her weakness, she clenched her eyes shut as a wave of nausea washed through her. What in gods' names had happened to her? Trying to summon up anger, she questioned the gods and their daring to throw this burden her way.

When the required anger failed to take root, she looked over at Bill. Feeling lost, she said his name.

-xxx-

Hearing her voice, Bill steeled himself. He recognised that tone - the one that said she felt needy.

Her feeling needy generally resulted in strategised manipulation.

He wasn't ready for that. Not yet. Maybe not ever. Opening his eyes, he looked at her, his expression carefully guarded. He was tired, his defences dangerously weakened. He could remember Kobol's rain pouring down on them; could remember her weight upon him and the way her fingers had grasped his desperately as cold darkness had overtaken them.

He could remember the burning heat of sorrow that had pierced him when he realised that she was gone and that he loved her.

But she was alive. And so was he. He was glad for the former, uncertain how he felt about the latter, and knew himself unprepared to deal with her presence.

You can't rewrite the past, unsay spoken words, or undo past deeds.

A wave of dispair coursed through him. "Laura," he rasped, "not now. Nothing you say is going to change anything."

He saw a look he couldn't interpret flit across her face, then watched as she opened her mouth to respond. Before she could speak, however, her attention abruptly shifted to the door. She summoned a smile. It faltered at first, then gained in strength as she assumed her presidential mask.

"Dana," she said to the petite, dark-haired woman who entered the room. "Doctor Cottle said you'd be coming soon."

The woman Laura had addressed so familiarly nodded and returned her smile easily. "Ma'am," she said. Bill noted the warmth in that one word, and felt himself relax. As though conscious of his scrutiny, the newcomer turned her gaze towards him. "Admiral! It's nice to see you with your eyes open! I'm Dana Meyes. I've been your day medic since you arrived."

Bill regarded her with smoky blue eyes. There was something oddly familiar about her - her voice or manner, perhaps - but his memory failed him. Certain they had never been introduced, he nodded, said, "Pleased to meet you," and waited to discover what she had in store for him.

Meyes quickly rewarded his patience.

"I'm going to get you up for a short walk," she told him brightly. "Doctor Cottle's determined to have you out of bed as soon as possible. After that," she continued, "he wants both you and the President to rest for a while." Reaching up, she grasped the curtain that hung to one side and smiled at Roslin. "We won't be long," she promised before pulling the curtain around the Admiral's bed. When privacy was ensured, she turned to him and said, "Now to get rid of these tubes and wires..."

Sparing a thought to wonder how this woman's cheerful persona fit next to Cottle's decidedly acerbic one, Adama grunted and gave himself up to her efficient ministrations.

-xxx-

"Don't," Bill ordered quietly.

In the process of reaching up to open the curtain, Dana lowered her arm and looked at him.

"I want to be on my feet first."

Her eyes widened, then she nodded in understanding. Moving towards him, she said, "Let's get you sitting up with your feet on the floor."

He managed that position without much difficulty, but bit back a groan when he felt his insides heave into position. They felt heavier, somehow, and ached dully. Placing a hand on his bandage-covered stomach, he grimaced.

"It'll take a while for your body to adjust," she told him. "You had a lot of internal damage, but it's healed beautifully. We moved you regularly, but still - it's going to take a while for you to get used to gravity weighing on your insides when you're upright."

He nodded. Taking a deep breath, he moved to stand.

And found himself suddenly leaning heavily on the small woman. He fought a wave of vertigo. "Sorry," he murmured.

She chuckled. "No problem. You're taking things too quickly. Here," she told him softly, "straighten slowly. Remember to breathe." She helped him stand erect, and then stood back and looked at him approvingly.

He looked down at himself. The hospital sleeping pants were decent, but walking around bare-chested made him feel uncomfortable.

Recognising his look of discomfort and realising its cause, she apologised. "It was easier to check on your sutures without the bother of a dressing gown. I expect you'll be wanting more to wear, now, though. I'm sorry. I should have brought something." She then listed the items available: "Would you like undershirts, a hospital gown, or a robe?"

Placing a hand over the bandages that covered most of the new set of red suture marks on his torso, he went for what would make him feel most comfortable.

"Undershirts."

"Then undershirts it will be. I'll order some up for you as soon as we have you back from the head," she promised. Looking at him with warm, dark eyes, she reached for the curtain again and asked, "Ready?"

When he nodded, she pulled the curtain back.

-xxx-

After arranging to meet with Lee in Life Station, Saul Tigh hung up the phone receiver and walked across the floor of CIC towards the exit. It was time to inform Bill of the latest developments. Considering the crisis that was building, having his friend and commanding officer awake and on the mend was a tremendous relief.

It would be even more of a relief if the Bill he knew had returned to replace the cold, remote man who had left Galactica with no intention of returning.

He sighed. He was no closer now to truly understanding what had happened to his friend than he had been months ago, but he held hope that perhaps this latest near-death experience would somehow reset his personality to its original default settings. He wanted his old friend back.

Lee, whose footsteps were also taking him to Life Station, wondered along similar lines. His father had woken up giving orders, which he took to be a good sign. Unfortunately, he'd been so glad he'd regained consciousness - and so busy taking in what he was saying - that he hadn't fully registered the demeanour of the man himself.

Who was lying in Life Station? Which version of his father and commanding officer? He'd given up trying to figure out what the frak had happened to make his father's personality alter so much. Now, the reasons for him turning so cold and remote seemed unimportant. He just wanted his father back.

Kara, flying CAP, led her team effortlessly and allowed part of her mind to drift to the happy thought of the Old Man being awake. Lee had told her as soon as he'd been able that his father was conscious and already giving orders. She smiled, unable to tamp down the sense of elation she felt. The question of who had awakened - the Adama she knew, or the cold, remote replacement she'd discovered upon her return after New Caprica - was the next issue to be dealt with. Shifting her thoughts in order to berate a sloppy turn by one of the nuggets, she crossed her fingers. On their last night on Kobol, she'd caught a reassuring glimpse of the old Adama. Hopefully, it had taken root during his stay in Life Station...

It'll all be okay, she thought. Lee hadn't said anything derogatory or biting about the Old Man, so perhaps they were all back to normal now. If they weren't, she'd have that talk with the Admiral she's promised herself before she and Lee had left for Kobol.

-xxx-

After pulling on the blessedly familiar undershirts Meyes had produced for him, Adama gratefully crawled back into bed. The medic settled him to her satisfaction and provided him with water to drink. After reminding both occupants of the room to get some rest, she lowered the lighting and left. Closing his eyes, Bill listened to the sound of Laura's voice talking on her bedside phone - at first to Tory, and then, so far as he could tell, to assorted members of the Quorum. Slowly, with her voice a gentle hum in the background, he relaxed into a sound sleep.

It felt as though he had barely closed his eyes, however, when the sound of Lee barging into the room awakened him. His mind slowly returning to alert status, he watched his son draw to a halt beside his bed. He looked tired and very frustrated.

After giving a quick nod towards the President, Lee turned to his father. "We can't find DeCourt," he announced. "He was supposed to be off rotation for two days leave, but he didn't report back for duty as scheduled yesterday."

Adama frowned. "That's not like him. Perhaps he's sick?"

"He's not in his quarters, and his name isn't on any of the infirmary rosters."

"Where did he go on his leave?"

"We were told he went to see a friend on the Mythic Folly."

"But you didn't find him there," his father guessed.

Lee shook his head. "His friend says he stopped by two days ago for a quick hello, then left to visit some woman he's been seeing. His friend couldn't remember the girl's name or what ship he was headed for, though. We're trying to track his movements, but it's not easy," he said. "With this infection knocking so many off their feet, it's hard to find people who were working yesterday, let alone two or three days ago, and record keeping at this point in time isn't what it could be."

He paused and the look of worry on his face deepened. If nothing else, his investigation had shown him just how severely the civilian population had been affected by so many being ill. "Dad," he said in a low tone, "things are getting really bad out there. I'm not sure how patient the pilots of the shuttles from the Aurora are going to be if we have to delay their docking much longer. With the overcrowding, conditions must be brutal. Hell, from what I can tell, conditions on all the civilian ships are bad."

Adama looked at his son. He saw the concern, saw the tiredness...and knew that there was something else he needed to report.

"There's more."

Unsurprised by his father's perceptiveness, Lee nodded. "Yeah," he said reluctantly, "and it's not good." Finally turning to include the President in his conversation, he said, "Three more ships - the Zephyr, the Adriatic, and the Faru Sadin - have offloaded their sick - at gun point in some cases, if the rumours are true - into shuttles. They're all reported to be headed here. We've ordered them back, but I don't think they're going to listen. They're desperate, and need a place where they'll be looked after. We're their only hope." He hesitated, then added, "There's also a rumour floating around that we've developed an antibiotic that we're not sharing with the civilian fleet. Some people believe it. I expect that's going to make them even more determined to come here."

Involuntarily, Laura and Bill shared a concerned glance. Rumours and distrust - not a good combination when people were already frightened.

"The Adriatic has weaponry," Bill observed in a heavy voice.

Silence hung in the air as they contemplated how quickly things could escalate when fire power was involved.

The President reached for her robe. Drawing it to her, she rose and put it on. Moving closer, she said briskly, "We could tell them shipments are being resumed, just to get them back where they belong. It'll buy us some time, at least."

"If it works, I'm all for it! We're going to need all the time we can get."

The three of them turned towards the sound of Tigh's voice and watched as he entered the room. It had been a long day, and he was also looking haggard and in need of rest.

"Without DeCourt to talk to Valerant, we're in trouble," the Colonel said. Supporting Lee's opinion, he continued, "and those shuttles can't wait forever. Their passengers have been on board for hours now, and they'll need food and water...and space. They've gotta be pretty crowded out there."

"If we can't find DeCourt to talk to Valerant, why don't we ask Valerant to come here to speak with us?" Lee suggested.

"He wouldn't come. He'd see the invitation as a military trick to throw him in the brig," Laura quickly interjected.

Bill looked at her and nodded. "The President's right. Asking would just waste valuable time that we don't have, and in regards to lying in order to get them to turn back: short term, it might work, but that's not the sort of action that'll breed trust in the future. We're going to have to live with each other for a long time. Trust is going to be important."

He sighed inwardly. Their problems had grown immeasurably: they needed to deal with the immediate issue of the Aurora shuttles, the rumour that the military had an antibiotic that wasn't being shared, the latest influx of refugee ships headed Galactica's way, and the potential knee-jerk misuse of the Adriatic's weaponry.

And still manage the issue of the stopped shipment runs that had started the whole mess in the first place.

His brows drew together as he thought his way through the situation. First thing would be to take care of the civilians, in order to-

Laura's voice broke into his thoughts. "Perhaps we could deal with the people problem first," she suggested. "Colonel Tigh, if the Admiral approves, finding a way to deliver supplies to the shuttles would be very helpful."

Bill nodded. "That's a good idea," he said, easily catching her train of thought because it ran on the same tracks as his. "Making the people on the shuttles as comfortable as possible will take away some of their sense of urgency, help them think before they act." He paused, then said to Roslin, "You - or someone from your office - should make an announcement concerning the rumoured antibiotic. It might help allay some of the disquiet out in the fleet." Turning to Tigh, he said, "I had better speak directly to the Adriatic's captain. We've got to make sure he knows what's happening and that he doesn't get trigger happy if a crisis arises."

Colonel Tigh frowned. "Why worry about the Adriatic? She's got weaponry, but it would barely put a dent in our hull," he commented.

"It may not be us he shoots at," Adama explained patiently. "What if the shuttles agree to turn back and he decides to take a pot shot at them to deter them from doing so? One Colonial vessel firing upon another with the military standing by and watching would send a message we don't want sent."

Laura nodded. "We need to present a united, concerned front and we need to diffuse some of the panic people are feeling," she said. "Having ships firing at shuttles filled with people wouldn't help us do either of those things."

The entire group looked up when the sound of someone else entering the room disturbed their conversation.

Cottle glared at the two uniformed men standing beside Adama's bed. "What are you two doing in here again?" he grumbled. Without waiting for an answer, he then turned to his two patients. His eyes travelling from one to the other, he said, "Meyes said you two were resting as ordered. This doesn't look like resting to me." Roslin was standing beside Bill, her hand on his bed's headboard.

"You said an hour, Doctor. It's been almost two," Lee said quickly.

"I don't care what I said. You didn't ask to be here. I don't like people traipsing around Life Station like they own it without me knowing about it."

Adama looked at him. His voice grave, he said, "We've got a real problem on our hands, Jack."

Cottle stilled. Holding his commanding officer's gaze, he paused, then nodded slowly. His demeanour relaxed into a different kind of serious, and his voice matched Adama's in tone when he said quietly, "Doesn't sound so good. Anything I can do?"

"How's the antibiotic thing coming along?" Adama enquired.

"They injected doses of it into the trial patients three hours ago," Jack told him. "We're waiting."

Bill nodded. It was good news, but not good enough. "If you could arrange to have someone available to address the press concerning your progress, it would be helpful, and..."

While he spoke to Cottle, Laura's phone rang and she walked across the floor to answer it. After listening intently, she hung up and faced the others.

"One of the shuttles from the Aurora has announced they have two dead aboard and that they intend to land on Galactica immediately."

"Well. That puts the cat right in the pigeon coop," Tigh murmured. Turning to Adama, he said, "We can't let them land, so what do we do?"

End
Chapter 20