Chapter 5

Laura spent the following day doing, for once, exactly what Dr. Cobrin had ordered. She rested and slept. Tom was fascinated by the books she'd brought back from the library. He lounged across the settee with his feet propped up on an ottoman engrossed in a book of short stories by a man named Edgar Allan Poe. Laura would later learn that Poe was from the state of Virginia, the same place Gatsby believed that she and Tom had lived before they'd arrived in West Egg. The day was uneventful, dwindling quickly to its close through the veil of drowsy reading and intermittent sleep. Even Tom, who was usually so restless, napped in between long bouts of devouring his book. At one point Laura awakened to discover that he was lying next to her, sound asleep. She had drifted over to his side of the bed, so close that if she moved a fraction of an inch, they'd be touching. She quickly retreated to her own side and he appeared to be none the wiser.

When morning came, Laura was up before Tom. She took a leisurely shower, allowing herself to luxuriate in the warm water for far longer than she could afford to on Galactica. Maybe after the evening's dinner with Jay and Daisy, she'd take a bath. She couldn't help thinking about the fleet, wondering how they were faring after the brutal attack, while she was here, comfortable in the lap of luxury. How many had perished with Colonial One? How many were they mourning? She thought of Bill and Kara and Lee. Abruptly, she turned off the shower and stepped out, burying her face in her towel and using it to stifle her quiet sobs.

She pulled herself together quickly, not wanting Tom to hear. She splashed some cool water on her face, slipped on a bathrobe and re-entered the bedroom. Tom was up, stretching. Shirtless. He'd gone to bed wearing a shirt but it had been exceedingly warm last night and she imagined he'd flung it off without even realizing it. She searched the floor with her eyes until she spotted the white t-shirt and picked it up, tossing it to him.

"Good morning," she said.

Tom stretched some more, giving his forehead a cursory rub. He didn't take the hint about the shirt. Emitting a resonant yawn that should only come out of the vocal folds of a tundra yeti and not a human being, he shuffled out of bed.

"Morning." He offered her an infuriatingly slow smile. "Are you done with the bathroom?"

Laura nodded. "For now. Yes."

He brushed up against her shoulder as he scooted past her. Laura was relieved when he was gone, glad to hear the click of the bathroom door as it shut. She wasn't accustomed to sharing her morning routine with anyone, let alone Tom Zarek. The suite had seemed so large that first night, but it was shrinking day by day.

Laura picked through the closet, once again lamenting the lack of slacks and then feeling guilty for worrying about something so trivial. She hastily chose another dress, a pale shade of yellow with three quarter sleeves and a ruffled skirt. She placed it on the bed and waited for Tom to finish in the bathroom. She leafed through a book of poems by Walt Whitman, too distracted by thoughts of the fleet to truly absorb the words.

Tom emerged a short time later - wearing nothing but a towel cinched around his waist.

"There are bathrobes, you know," she told him, "hanging on a hook inside the linen closet."

"It's way too hot for a bathrobe." He gave her a lingering once-over. "You must be dying in that thing."

Actually, she was warm. Unaccountably warm. But she wasn't going to tell him that. She shrugged. "I'm fine. I'm going to go back in there and get dressed. If you're done."

"Go for it."

Among the other things Jay had provided them with, there was a large case of unused cosmetics along with some shaving gear for Tom. Laura applied very light make-up; anything heavy would only melt off in the heat. But it felt good to do something so everyday and ordinary. She emerged from the bathroom feeling a little bit more ready to tackle her day - and Tom.

He had gotten dressed. The gray pants and white polo shirt actually fit him, giving definition back to the body that had been swallowed up by the oversized suit from the other day. He stood by the window, hands in his pockets. A newspaper was spread out on the small round table.

"I cancelled breakfast," he said, shaking out the newspaper and folding it up. "Up here anyway. I figured it would be nice to get out of this room. They have a continental spread for us downstairs, whenever you're ready."

She agreed with him on that point; she was going a little stir crazy. "How's your knee?" she asked.

"Fine."

"Did you change your bandage?"

"Yeah."

Laura narrowed her eyes. "No, you didn't."

Tom rolled his eyes. "I'm fine. Can we go eat? I'm hungry."

"Sit down on the bed, Tom."

He plopped down unceremoniously, sulking a little. His expression was reminiscent of one of her pouty first graders being told that they couldn't go out for recess.

Laura fixed her eyes on his with uncompromising ferocity."I'm getting your bandages. Don't move."

"Yes, ma'am."

Laura returned with fresh bandages, ointment, and antiseptic.

"I have serious doubts about this, Laura, especially after you stabbed me with that needle the other day."

She sat down on the edge of the bed. "You're so dramatic. I didn't stab you. Lift up your pant leg. Tom, you can't neglect your knee. You don't want an infection."

"It's itchy today - that's a good sign."

"Yes," said Laura, "that means it's healing. And we want to keep it that way."

"For gods sake, just change the frakking bandage," he said. "Don't bother with all that other stuff."

"Tom - "

"The antiseptic smell. I can't - I can't smell like that all day. It reminds me of prison." He looked into her eyes but the connection lasted only a moment and Laura realized that he was looking through her, past her. "Reminds me of cleaning products and -" he lapsed into a hollow laugh. The light words didn't match the unsteadiness in his tone."I hate cleaning."

His expression tugged at her, pitching her forward into a flood of emotion that she hadn't fully felt since that day in detention with the water. She carefully unwrapped the bandage from around his knee. The wound looked clean. The swelling had gone down and there was no redness around the stitches. Laura picked up the ointment and the antiseptic. Tom bristled.

"It's okay," she said, standing up, "Give me a second." She went into the bathroom and put the items into the medicine cabinet. She picked up bottle after bottle, reading labels and sniffing their contents. It took her a couple of minutes but she finally found what she was looking for.

Tom eyed the bottle in her hand suspiciously. Laura unscrewed the cap and handed the bottle to him. "Take a small sniff."

He did as she advised and then gave it back to her.

"Is that okay?" asked Laura.

"Yeah. That's okay."

Laura dampened a small gauze pad. "You're sure?"

Embarrassment flickered across his features, so brief that Laura was almost uncertain that she'd seen it. "Yeah, go ahead."

"This is witch hazel; it's a natural anti-inflammatory and cleanser. I wasn't sure if they'd have it but we lucked out." She began cleaning the area.

"I don't think there's much that Jay doesn't have in there."

Laura smiled. "True enough. Antiseptic made my mother nauseous when she was going through diloxin treatments so one of her doctors suggested this, which she could tolerate."

"Yeah. I remember witch hazel. It's been a long time since I've seen a bottle of that but I remember the smell. They didn't have that in prison. We got the cheap industrial stuff." There was a pause. "I'm sorry to hear about your mom."

Laura wrapped his knee with fresh bandages and carefully pulled his pant leg back down. "All done." She couldn't meet his eyes but she felt him looking at her.

"Thanks, Laura."

"You're welcome." She rose, faltering a little.

Tom touched her arm. "You okay?"

"I'm fine," Laura said too quickly. She pulled away. "I just stood up too fast. Let's go have breakfast."

They spent the morning at the library, not the one in Jay's house, but the West Egg Public Library. Jay was consistent with his penchant for anticipating the needs of his guests. After breakfast, Tom passed him in the hall and he offered the use of his car and driver for the day with the amusing comment, "It'll give my driver something to do; I hardly ever use the service."

"Why have it then?" asked Tom curiously.

Jay merely smiled his effortless smile. "It's fashionable, old sport. I'll see you and Laura for dinner tonight, right? Is seven suitable?"

Tom almost wanted to pretend to think about it just for laughs but he opted for a simple "We're looking forward to it" instead. It was true enough. This imposed leisure was new and unprecedented. As Tom recovered from his injuries, the desire for meaningful purpose became more pronounced. He knew that Laura felt it, too - the restlessness. Dinner would be a good distraction; it would get them both out of their heads a little.

When Tom was a little boy he remembered having a small glass snow globe. Inside was a spired castle, a fierce dragon, and a brave knight charging into the fray with his sword flung high. One day his mother was dusting and the snow globe crashed to the floor, breaking into several pieces. His parents were able to salvage the pedestal. The knight remained poised for battle, the dragon still reared back on its haunches, and the castle still loomed in the distance with its unimaginable secret treasures. But the figures were somehow never quite the same, displaced as they were from the snowy landscape that had been their homeland. Maybe the enclosed globe was a prison in its own way but it was a familiar one nevertheless.

They weren't running from Cylons anymore but they'd still been wrenched from everything that they knew. This new world was a mystery. It had only been a couple of days but already Tom felt the strangeness of this alien place where the cosmos had seen fit to spew them forth like an undigested meal. The inevitable question thrummed through his head, begging for an answer.

What next? What now?

When they entered the library Tom asked Laura what section she planned to start browsing in. He expected her answer to be History or Astronomy or Science. Maybe even Geography or Political Studies. Browsing through recent newspapers and magazines also seemed wise and like a reasonable course of action the former President would favor. But Laura surprised him with her quick but unexpected response.

"Women's Fashion," she answered with an air that such a choice should be obvious.

Tom laughed, a low and resonant chuckle that came right from his belly.

Laura gave a forlorn sigh. "Don't judge. I need to find out what happened to women's slacks. It'll only take me a minute - and then I'll move on to something more practical."

"I am absolutely not judging you," he said, nodding his head to the contrary with a teasing smirk. "I'll be in the Politics section. I'll be on the lookout for women's garments and I'll keep you posted if I find anything of note."

"I knew I shouldn't have told you," said Laura as she turned around and walked off.

Laura Roslin was furious and for once her anger was not directed at him. It was a few hours after they'd gone their separate ways to explore different sections of the library. Tom was absorbed in a book about the United States revolutionary war when he heard the quick tap of heels on the polished floor. He knew the distinct sound of Laura's stride only too well and half expected to see her wearing one of her power suits, glaring at him with pursed lips. She stalked forward looking like an angry dragon ready to strike and he almost wondered if smoke would suddenly begin curling out of her nostrils. She was fuming - in the very literal dictionary definition of the word.

A ruddy faced man with a short stocky build followed at her heels, huffing and puffing to keep pace with her and not managing very well.

"He's right here," said Laura, gesturing to Tom. Her voice was crisp but underneath the shortness was a false sweetness that she was making every effort to emphasize. She deposited the gigantic stack of books that she carried on the table right next to Tom's revolutionary war book.

"You're the lady's husband?" asked the man, looking doubtfully at Tom.

"That's right," said Tom without missing a beat. "Is there a problem?" Tom gave the man his most intimidating look. After twenty years in prison, he'd had plenty of time to develop a rather formidable don't-frak-with-me demeanor when the need arose.

"No, sir. It's just - some of the books that lady wishes to take out are not typically borrowed by ladies. It's just a bit unusual. I only asked if she -"

"He asked if I was accompanied by a male escort," said Laura. "Natural Science and Law aren't the purview of women? Really?"

"Well, that's not exactly what I meant to imply." The man floundered, looking from one irate face to the other. He backpedaled. "I just wanted to make sure that the lady didn't need any help."

"She doesn't," said Tom. "The lady is perfectly capable. But thanks."

"Very good, sir," said the man. "I'll just leave you to your research."

"You do that," said Tom. He covered Laura's hand when it closed around the top book on the pile.

"I wasn't going to throw a book at him," said Laura after the man had retreated. "Although I was thoroughly enjoying the fantasy of doing so. Women only got the right to vote two years ago." Her voice was filled with disbelief. "If you can believe it. Did you see how he talked to you as if I weren't even in the room?"

"They had slaves, too," said Tom sourly. His hand still covered hers. It felt so natural, he hadn't even realized it. He promptly pulled away.

Laura frowned. "We should brief one another as we discover things of significance. I've put together a background story for us. We can go over it before dinner."

"Should I get you out of here before you decide to take out the librarian?"

"Gods. He made my head hurt."

"Come on," said Tom, smiling as he gathered up as many books as he could carry. Let's see if we can finagle a library card. I'm the man so maybe I'd better handle it."

Laura shot him a look. "Watch it. I know where you sleep, Zarek."

Tom got ready for dinner first, skulking into the bathroom in a manner that reminded Laura of a spy on a secret mission rather than a man getting ready for an intimate dinner party. She curled up on the cream colored settee in the meantime, thumbing through a high school curriculum text. There was a method to her madness; it was a quick way to absorb a great deal of information about the planet in a very short amount of time. The planet. She willed her mind to say it and then she formed the word with her lips, whispering the one syllable. Earth. From the details that she remembered from the charts she'd studied with Elosha, and what she could recall from the images she'd seen on Kobol, this was the Earth. She couldn't deal with that truth and all the implications that it would mean. Not yet. Against her will, she flipped again to the page she'd bookmarked at the library, a rendering of the solar system of which this Earth was the third planet from the sun, their closest star. Laura traced the blue and green globe with the tip of her finger.

How? How could this be possible?

She slammed the book shut with a loud crack and placed it on the table with the other books, tucking it at the very bottom of the pile. It was only then that Laura noticed the long rectangular black velvet box and the note nestled neatly under one corner. She broke the small silver seal on the envelope and pulled out the note. The paper was a high quality white stationery framed by a clean black frame with a lavish curlicue design centered elegantly at the top of the page. It was handwritten.

Dear Tom and Laura,

Thank you for doing me the courtesy of joining Daisy and me for dinner tonight. I told her that Laura is my cousin from Virginia; I hope you don't mind the small deception. I know that you both prize your privacy and I thought this arrangement would simplify things. I did explain the situation that we discussed, as Laura gave me leave to disclose that particular piece of information. You can rely on our discretion as I know that we, in turn, can rely on yours.

When you open the black box, you'll find an assortment of jewelry. It's not as extravagant as it appears. They're all costume pieces.

Nevertheless, I hope you enjoy them. Especially the rings.

Daisy was very excited to meet Laura and she'll come upstairs at six o'clock to chat and get ready, if you'll forgive us for the intrusion. During that time, I'd be delighted to have you join me, Tom, for an aperitif in the billiard room before dinner.

Very truly yours,

Jay Gatsby

Laura opened up the black box. Like everything Jay offered, the gift was high quality and elaborate, costume jewelry or no. There were necklaces and bracelets, clip on earrings, and combs for Laura's hair. There was a wide variety of different colored stones to choose from and so many pieces of varying styles.

The rings were the only pieces of jewelry that were duplicated and Laura immediately understood why. They were wedding rings, a band for each of them and a single marquise style faux diamond and gold solitaire for Laura. Jay didn't know their ring sizes so he had given them a few different sizes to choose from.

It wasn't a gift that she could ignore, and really, it might make things easier for her and Tom if they did wear rings since they were posing as a married couple. She knew that Jay had only the kindest of intentions, but the notion of wearing even a fake wedding ring linking her to Tom Zarek felt - off-putting. It was confusing enough already as it was, the two of them sharing the suite with one another, not to mention a bed. When Laura heard the bathroom door open, she abruptly closed the box and grabbed a book at random. She resumed her earlier position on the settee.

Tom emerged from the bathroom smelling faintly of aftershave, dark hair glossy and neatly combed. He was wearing a tuxedo that fit him to perfection and Laura realized that Jay must have made sure that he had been properly fitted the morning Tom and he had met with the tailor. He looked...good.

He tossed her an impish smile and Laura realized that she had been staring. "Good book?" he asked.

"Oh, yes." Laura glanced down at the book she was holding in front of her. It was upside down. She flipped it over. "I mean - I hope it is. I was just getting started when you came out of the bathroom. There's a note from Jay on the table." She buried her face in the book. "And a gift."

Laura watched as Tom read the note and opened the box. He looked from the box to her and then back at the box again. He seemed as uncomfortable with the whole idea as she was and for some odd reason, that made the whole thing a little easier. They looked at one another - and simultaneously burst into laughter.

"Well, pick a ring, Mrs. Zarek," said Tom holding the box out to her. "Well, two, I guess - in your case."

And it was as simple as that. They both fussed for a few moments with sizes but finally they each had little gold rings situated on their hands. And neither of them said another word about it once it was done.

"So before dinner I'll be having drinks with Jay. I guess he's not a stickler for the prohibition we read about." said Tom. "Is my tie on straight?"

"Yes," said Laura. "It is."

Tom glanced at the clock. "Well, I'm going to get downstairs and give you a chance to get ready. I guess I'll see you in a little bit."

Laura watched him go. She was glad Jay had some illegal booze lying about because - she really needed a drink.