Oh my goodness! I just had a heart attack after watching Unfinished Business. I can die happy now! In honor of so much good A/R, Kara/Lee shippyness I'm posting three chapters today!!!
Disclaimer: I own nothing, all belongs to Ron Moore and Sci-fi ect.
Bill Adama had two things on his mind as he humbly ducted past Tory and toward the waiting phone. One: Laura Roslin was a good kisser…correction; Laura Roslin was a very good kisser. Two: Laura Roslin's voice in his head repeating over and over, "I really didn't see a point in getting married to anyone."
Adama refused to let his mind run free with either thought as both were extremely dangerous. Laura Roslin had never struck him as a particularly dangerous woman but between cylon attacks, military rebellions, and feelings he had changed his opinion. He took heavy strides toward the phone in Roslin's office. The brief seconds Roslin spent in his arms was like the time spent in the Tomb of Athena, when the Heavens seemed to part and show them the road to Earth. Who was he kidding? What did he expect, really? For Tory to arrange the clandestine meetings she had suggested? Ridiculous and dangerous, the two worst combinations.
After the initial joy of the kiss came the worrying and the regret. He did regret it just as much as Laura would have if she would have been the instigator of the kiss. It was a rash, foolish, immature action like the kind he used to take as a young reckless boy. Roslin had every right to slap him afterward and part of him wished she had. The sting might have lessened the guilt he carried now.
For some reason, he couldn't stand to think of her words about marriage. Her voice echoed in his head and those words haunted him like the angry ghost of an unseen spirit. "I really didn't see a point in getting married to anyone." He tried to bury the coldness of her voice as she spoke those words in the same place he hid his feelings.
Marriage between them was impossible, he knew that with his rational mind but the words still cut him to the core. She would never marry, not even for him. He had thought the cabin by the stream was her promise of their potential life together on New Caprica. That was a time long gone. He thought he had known what she was saying then but maybe he misread the words. He was just another Adar to her. A moron. His hand strangled the phone as he picked it up.
"Adama here," he growled into the phone.
"Admiral it's Starbuck," Kara began nervously.
Nervousness wasn't like her. And no 'did you wake up on the wrong side of someone's bed' comment from her either. Something was wrong.
"What is it?"
Starbuck hesitated. The silence on the other end made the Adama impatient. He knew it had to be important. Whenever Starbuck had something to say she usually just blurted it out and didn't try to mince words. After the crap she had pulled lately, he wasn't inclined to chat with her.
"I decided to venture over to the Vespa for the play," Kara explained.
Adama lifted an eyebrow. This was what was so important?! Kara saw a play? Wow, that would go down in the history books. It wasn't like her call caused him shame and embarrassment and interrupted one of the few good moments he had experienced in a long time. But, Kara saw a play, yes, that was big news. Call the Cylons and alert the fleet, Kara Thrace saw a play. He would be sure to make an announcement when he got back to the CIC. Adama cursed himself for being so bitter and spoke through clenched teeth.
"You have a point?" He asked.
He was in a bad mood probably for the same reasons she had been lately.
"The play was a runaway hit," Kara continued. "Everyone loved it but…"
"But?" Adama repeated hoping the impatience in his voice would encourage Kara to spit out whatever it was she had to say.
"Lee and I discussed it and…" when she trailed off again Adama's short fuse came to its end.
"Direct and to the point Captain," he ordered.
"The play is called Saturn and Aurora. You are Saturn and Roslin is Aurora. The two are lovers and nearly destroy the people because of it," Kara explained rapidly.
Adama was silent as he took in the information. As if things weren't complicated enough. Now, romantically retarded Kara Thrace was trying to take revenge for her lack of luck in love by messing up his love life. Well, he wouldn't call it a life, maybe a microscopic spineless organism living on the bottom of someone's shoe.
"Lee and I thought you might want to see the play before you approve it for wider viewing. There is no question people will talk. I'm sure it will be all over the papers tomorrow," Kara said, her voice growing a little stronger.
"Have a copy of the script sent to my quarters and to the President," Adama ordered.
"Yes, sir," Kara answered and hung up the phone.
"Nothing to dire I hope," Roslin's voice said from the doorway.
Adama set the phone down and folded his hands in front of him.
"How do you feel about censorship?" Adama asked.
Roslin studied him with open curiosity.
"I despise it," she said simply, which came as no great surprise to him.
"Hmm," he grunted.
Instead of telling her of the phone call he decided it would be best for her to discover the cause of the important interruption on her own. Besides, he'd had enough talk of their messed up-complicated-beautiful relationship for one night.
"Madame President," he mumbled and left her standing in the doorway of her office with her questioning gaze following him down the hallway.
The night was a restless one from Adama. Too many thoughts filled his mind. When he awoke two hours earlier than he usually did for his shift in the CIC he didn't mind. His subconscious mind he had no control over but now that he was awake he could occupy his mind with work once again. He showered and fixed himself something resembling a cup of coffee, though he hadn't tasted real coffee since the attack on the Colonies.
Once settle with his coffee his sat on the brown sofa in his quarters. He reached for the pile of crisp white paper. When he returned from Colonial One last night he entered his quarters to discover a copy of the play had already been delivered. Kara must have been anxious for him to read it. With giddiness which would have embarrassed him had anyone else been in the room he cracked open the first page.
Of course, the giddiness was nothing compared to last night. Last night he had made a bigger fool of himself than…than Adar when he had publicly apologize for misspelling the first name of his Vice President, George. Pushing thoughts of the previous night aside he leaned back into the sofa and began to read.
William Adama was an intelligent, well read man. He could recognize crap when he read it. This play was most certainly not crap, which made the dilemma all the more difficult.
From the opening battle sequence and escape from the village to the gut wrenching conclusion that nearly moved him to tears, Adama knew he had just read what would go down in history as one of the greatest literary works to emerge after the cylon attack. That was assuming, of course, they had a future long enough to warrant a history.
The real question remained. Does he shut it down because of the conclusions it draws about his relationship with the President?
"This never would have happened if she was a man," he shrugged out loud, but even as he said it he knew no one but Laura Roslin, the woman, the person, could have lead the fleet this far.
With a last sip of the now cold coffee he fortified himself for the reactions of his crew and left his sanctuary.
Although nearly imperceptible, when he entered the glowing green light of the CIC Adama was sure he heard snickers. All looked innocent when he gazed around the room, but unlike the snickers his crew did nothing to hide their ogling stares. The entire operations center fell silent. Adama was tempted to ask, tongue-in-cheek, if he forgot his pants back on Colonial One. The crew probably would have believed him so he refrained.
All eyes migrated toward Gaeta. Adama followed the looks and with a nervous twitch the young man approached.
"Admiral," he began, doing his utmost to be professional and failing, "You might want to see this."
Gaeta tossed a newspaper on top of the command center. The white light penetrated the outsides of the paper. Adama narrowed his eyes at the Lieutenant then looked down.
Above a picture of two actors engaging in a sensual lip lock read five words in bold black letters "Adama and Roslin's Secret Love-affair." So much for cutting off the play before the press got wind of it. The word was out now and there would not be much he or Roslin could do except damage control.
He tore his eyes from the page, trying not to think about how the actors' make believe kiss paled in comparison to the real thing. Looking back up he was alarmed to find Gaeta still hovering next to him. Adama gave him a stare that said grow a pair or get back to your post. All eyes in the CIC seemed to be focused on the two of them. Gaeta did not retreat. He cleared his throat and scratched the back of his hand.
"Is it true, sir?" He asked.
Obviously everyone on deck was waiting for the Lieutenant to ask the question they all wanted answered. In this case, there was only one course of action. Denial. Adama refused to give them even that much satisfaction.
"Get back to your post Mr. Gaeta," he barked and Gaeta promptly scuffled back to his station like a wounded dog.
With both hands Adama snatched up the paper, crumpled it as loudly as he could and tossed it into a black garbage can.
"That is where trash belongs," he growled at all within ear shot.
Getting his officers to back off had never been a problem for Adama. The press was another story. He hoped Roslin could work her magic spell on them. The thought had been planted in the minds of his officers whether or not they spoke of it in front of him. He knew the locker rooms, flight decks, and mess halls would be abuzz with speculation for the rest of the day. He and the President would probably have to deal with the speculation until something more exciting happened. For the first time Adama hoped for a cylon attack.