Quick shout out for my 'guest'. Thank you for all your reviews. Being a guest means I can't reply! This is the final chapter. Enjoy. I hope.
July, 2010
Laura fingered the sheer satin material of her blue camisole as she tucked it into her skirt. The woman who had delivered it from the bridal shop had made such a fuss over her choice.
"I think the green will suit your coloring much better."
Laura had been adamant, insisting on the blue.
"It matches my husband's eyes."
The rest of the outfit had been chosen without any debate: a cream skirt with a strategically placed hem to hide the way her left leg twisted, and a matching jacket.
Once fully dressed, Laura donned her glasses and leaned toward the mirror to apply her lipstick. Then, carefully, she removed the dark red wig off its stand, bent her head forward and expertly maneuvered it into place. Sitting back up, she swished the hair back, checking in the mirror to make sure she had it on straight.
Laura stared at her reflection, trying to see what Bill would see. She could find little resemblance to the woman he'd met nine years ago. She knew, though, that he'd still look at her as if she were the most beautiful woman in the room.
She blinked back the tears that gathered behind her eyes, mindful of the mascara she had recently applied.
She remembered their first wedding. She'd still been weak from her mastectomy. They'd married in a simple ceremony at the courthouse as soon as they could organize the necessary paperwork.
That didn't stop her from quietly panicking the night before.
"I don't want you to marry me out of pity," she'd said.
"Fine, I won't," he'd answered.
She'd decided to accept that. She didn't need a piece of paper to prove they were a couple, she'd thought.
Then he'd cupped her chin, forcing her eyes to meet his own.
"How about I marry you for love?"
She had swooned in his arms. And had ever since.
Their marriage had been perfect. They had never spent a night apart from each other in three years.
They fought sometimes, like all couples, but they never went to bed angry. One of them would always yield. She flushed, thinking about the various ways they'd reconciled.
They'd made their home on his side of the duplex, living a relatively quiet life after she resigned from her position in the government.
They took long walks along the beach. They pottered around book stores, adding to their collection. They redecorated the bedroom and refurbished the kitchen, but she never touched the living room, where they spent long hours on the couch curled up with a book, and each other.
Quite often, Bill would indulge her by reading aloud; one hand holding onto the book, the other giving her the longed-for foot rubs. She developed a penchant for mysteries. The ones that featured intricate character-driven plots soon became her favorites. She enjoyed a disheveled detective who was down on his luck, and a feisty heroine with a suspicious past. Especially when Bill made the words on the page come to life with his vivid narration.
During the warmer months, they would spread out a blanket in their backyard and stare up at the stars together. Bill would point out the constellations, while she cuddled against his side.
They talked. They spoke deep into the night sometimes; staying awake just so they could hear each other's voices.
Other times, they never said anything. In fact, they could go entire days without a word passing between them. Their body language during these times was acute. Bill would tell her he loved her by gently tucking her hair behind her ear, or stroking his finger along her cheek.
She never regretted a single day.
When, last Christmas, he'd proposed, she'd smiled and kissed him.
"We are married, honey."
"I know. I want to do it again. On the Fourth of July. Our special day."
She hadn't questioned why he'd wanted to do it again. She knew. She was dying.
That was another way they'd passed the time during the three years of their marriage: in and out of hospitals.
She'd had radiation treatments and chemotherapy. She'd tried alternative medicines and prayer. All to no avail.
"Knock, knock." A voice came from the door. "You're almost fifteen minutes late, Laura, so I hope you're nearly ready. I've seen the groom's face and, considering the circumstances, it's quite amusing. You'd think he was worried his bride was going to jilt him at the altar."
"No chance," Laura wheezed. "Let's go."
Wally, who was 'giving her away' today, assisted her into the wheelchair.
"Sure you want to marry this guy, Laura?" he joked as he rolled her toward the small hospital chapel. "It's not too late to back out."
She snorted.
Wally wheeled her up the ramp, and paused in the doorway. She looked through at the few guests in attendance as the wedding march began. Lee and Kara stood behind the groom. On her side stood Doctor Cottle and a nurse, Layne, both of whom she had become quite close to over the course of her treatments.
The best man, Saul Tigh, stood beside the groom, his shoulders back and his head held high.
Then, Bill turned. She gasped at the dashing figure he cut in his black morning suit. It molded to his body, accentuating his still-muscular frame. Her sickness had aged him; he was grayer now, the lines on his face more pronounced. He always wore his glasses now. But to her, he was still the most handsome man in the room.
His eyes caught hers, and she became even more breathless from the love she could see shining in them.
Laura reached up and stilled Wally.
"You okay?" he asked worriedly.
She saved her breath and merely nodded before reaching out and pulling her wheelchair's brake.
With an effort, Laura managed to pull herself up from the chair. She began to shuffle slowly down the aisle, toward her groom.
She had barely taken two steps when Bill caught her arm. She relaxed immediately.
"You're late," he chided gently.
Laura smiled. "Takes me a bit longer these days," she said. Once she had regained her breath, she added, "You haven't started without me?"
"Wouldn't dream of it, Mrs. Adama."
She leaned against him heavily as they walked up the aisle together, towards the waiting celebrant.
0.0.0
Laura never let go of Bill's hand. Their fingers remained linked for the rest of the night, which was cut short when Doctor Cottle came and murmured in his ear.
Bill immediately started making their farewells.
"What'd he say?" she demanded.
"That it was time for Cinderella to leave the ball, and return to her room."
Laura sighed as he started to lead her out of the reception room and back to the ward. "Not much of a wedding night, stuck in ward 75."
"We'll have a honeymoon as soon as you're released."
Laura just hummed in reply. She knew they weren't ever going on a honeymoon.
"How about we go outside for a while? Watch the fireworks from the hospital's lawn," Bill suggested.
"You think Cottle will let us?"
"He'll never know. He and Saul are probably making their way to the nearest bar right now. Besides, surely he'll give us a break on our wedding day. Wait here a minute."
She let go of his hand regretfully, leaning against the wall for support. He returned a few moments later with a blanket he'd lifted from somewhere in the ward.
They joined hands again, and started toward the hospital exit. Bill carefully matched his pace to suit hers. They were almost outside when Laura stumbled. Bill quickly caught her before she fell, holding her upright. She collapsed into his arms.
"Sorry, honey. I think the drugs Cottle gave me are starting to wear off."
Bill arms came around her and he scooped her up easily.
"Bill, you can't-" she spluttered against his chest.
"It's tradition to carry your wife across the threshold on your wedding night."
"I don't think they mean a hospital threshold."
"Minor detail."
Laura smiled, and let him carry her. Her body's gentle rocking as they walked calmed her to such an extent that she drifted off to sleep for a moment.
When she awakened, he was slowly lowering her to the ground, onto the blanket. He surprised her by producing another blanket, which he draped around her shoulders before he settled in beside her and drew her close to his side.
It was becoming difficult for her to breathe. Her ribs ached when she tried to talk. She was content just to sit with him, their hands still linked, and enjoy his quiet company for a little while longer.
Laura studied Bill's profile as he stared intently up into the sky.
It was a beautiful, clear night, and the stars sparkled down upon them until the fireworks fought for domination, peppering them with a kaleidoscope of colors.
She fought tooth and nail to speak. "You won the war."
He turned to look directly into her eyes, as was his habit. "Whaddya mean?"
"The war for my independence. I finally surrendered."
He squeezed her hand. "You regret that?"
"No."
He leaned down and kissed the hand he was holding. Laura felt a droplet of water splash upon her arm. She glanced back up into the sky, but it was still clear. She realized the droplet had been a tear from Bill's eyes.
Laura reached out to soothe him, letting her fingers wind into his glorious thick hair one last time. She smiled when the caress elicited a contented rumble from him.
She shifted slightly to lean back against him, her spine resting on his chest. Looking up at the fireworks and the stars one last time, she drifted away peacefully, the smile still on her face.
The End