A/R REMIX: "Preoccupation"
ROUND TWO! Because I forgot to explain on Monday: I will be posting two stories on Mondays and Wednesdays until we're out of stories.
Title: Preoccupation
Pairing: Adama/Roslin
Rating: T
Original Author: whatever_lj
Original work: Occupy Colonial One
Summary: Her days of bliss with Bill are interrupted when Laura discovers a new political movement within the fleet--and aboard Colonial One...
Laura lay in Bill’s--their--rack, wrapped in his arms, his frame cocooned against hers. She blinked a few times, remembering where she was and how she got there. It was quite a memory.
After Bill stopped her in the middle of her run, Laura knew they’d finally give themselves the break they deserved. And they did.
Standing in her guest quarters organizing her pills, Laura made her first impulsive decision in years. Which gave way to another. And then another.
The treatments may have been keeping her alive, but they weren’t allowing her to live. Whether she was or wasn’t the Dying Leader was a moot point. She was the leader, at least until the quorum cast their votes of no confidence, (She never thought she’d have that in common with Baltar.) and she was dying. Bill and Dr. Cottle could talk about hope and the possibilities of treatment all they wanted. Laura knew her body--it was fighting a losing battle.
So she stopped her treatment. And as soon as she did, she had the energy to run. It had been years since she had that kind of energy or inclination. That wasn’t the only kind of energy to return...
The treatments had put a major damper on her love life, which seemed to bother her more than Bill. He had been wonderful throughout the process. At night, he was unassuming, content to simply hold her, wiping away her tears of frustration. When he told her it was all right--or whatever he said in that tone of his--she almost believed him. Many nights, she fell asleep cocooned in his voice--and his love.
When they did try, Bill was very careful. Apparently, Dr. Cottle had decided the Admiral was her next of kin: Bill knew exactly what to do. She wondered if Cottle even supplied the lube and condoms. Anyway, Bill had always been gentle and patient. He was also steadfast and determined to get her off. She realized Bill was the same kind of lover as he was a man--quietly persistent. And she appreciated his efforts, especially when they were successful, which they usually were. Still, she mourned for the days when her body had been more responsive.
It seemed she had gotten those days back--at least for the time being. Each step was a reclamation. She may have been sore and slightly out breath, but it was good to feel that way, natural. She felt alive. And nothing could stop her--not even Admiral William Adama--from taking advantage of those feelings. As she ran through the other half of Galactica after her encounter with Bill in the corridor, she knew he finally got it. He’d allow them to truly live.
After her run, she returned to her quarters, showered, and waited for Bill to come to her. She knew he would, and she was right.
That night, he stormed into her guest quarters. A man on a mission--her. What happened next could have easily been written in the pages of those books Laura read--when she wasn’t reading mysteries and classics.
Afterward, they lay cuddled together in her rack. Neither of them cared about the controversy with the tylium ship or that Zarek was cooling his heels in the brig. Instead, Bill whispered sweet nothings in her ear, and Laura fell asleep holding onto the arm he had wrapped around her.
When they woke up, Bill asked, “Ready to go home now?”
Laura nodded.
Bill said, “All right, let’s go.”
Before she knew it, they had everything packed (there really wasn’t much), and they walked through the corridors of Galactica to their quarters.
Then they were home. Bill made room in his closet and drawers for Laura’s clothes--just as he had before. Laura watched as he found a home for everything she owned. He treated each item as an extension of her. Laura had to look away; it was overwhelming.
When he was finished unpacking, Bill came over to her. “You all right?” he asked, rubbing her arm.
Laura nodded. “I love you.”
Bill smiled and kissed her forehead. “I have just enough time for a shower before my shift. Care to join me?”
Laura took Bill’s hand, and he led her into the head. He barely left in time for his shift, but it was worth it.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------
Laura spent the day reading, although, she did glance at some of the reports on their desk. She told herself she didn’t care, that she was just curious. Plus, she needed to know what to tell Lee--or to tell Bill to tell him. Laura kept seeing the word “Occupy” in the reports.
She’d have to get Bill to tell her about that. Of course, she had to do it in a way that wouldn’t alert him that she was reading them. He’d only try to get her to go back to work in that passive aggressive way of his. He wouldn’t say anything, but he’d give her that look--she just wasn’t interested in going back yet. Too bad Tory wasn’t with her anymore--wasn’t even human. She was always good for getting information.
Laura went back to her book, trying to forget all about Occupy--and the other problems facing them. The fleet had Bill and Lee, and with Zarek in the brig, Lee would have control of the government. Laura would give him that control if she had to. She doubted that would be necessary, though. The young man had come into his own, and she was so very proud of him. If mentoring him was to be her legacy, then that would be enough for her.
Bill returned at the end of his shift. Laura met him at the hatch.
“How was your day, honey?” She never thought she’d be asking that question, but there she was at the end of the worlds, asking that cliché.
He grinned. “It’s about to get better.”
Laura could see the gleam in his eye. Her day was going to get better too. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her in for a tight hug. She loved the way he hugged her. There was so much strength and love in his hugs. He put enough distance between them so he could look at her face, kissed her forehead, and held her again.
“Ready to eat?” Laura asked, still in his arms.
“Yeah. Jaffee will be here soon.” There was something in his voice. A tension. Maybe she could help with that.
“Mmm.”
“Didn’t know you were that excited about algae.”
“I’m not.” She held him tighter.
“Oh.”
“Yes, ‘oh.’”
Bill released her from his hold, and they moved to the couch. She took both of his hands in hers, looking him in the eyes.
“Talk to me, Bill. What’s going on?”
He sighed. “It’s...We can talk about it later. It’s not that important.”
“No?”
“No," He smiled. "You’re what’s important.”
She returned the smile, and the tension dissipated.
They chatted about the book she had been reading, agreeing that he’d read it from where they left off together when they went to bed. Their light and easy conversation carried them until Jaffee arrived with their supper--the word “Occupy” forgotten.
The dinner wasn’t great, but the company was wonderful. Laura imagined them in her apartment on Caprica. They’d eat her favorite meal and have a wonderful evening together. Laura blinked.
“Where’d you go, Laura?”
“My apartment on Caprica.”
“Was I there with you?”
Laura nodded. “You were.”
“Was it nice?”
“Gods, yes.”
“Tell me.”
She did. She told him how they’d eat sushi from Picon, which she would have spent the better part of the afternoon preparing. How she would have made authentic Tauron cherry cake. How he would have brought the finest ambrosia.
“That’s a very nice picture. However, I’m afraid it’s incomplete.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Oh really?”
“Yes. Can I fill in some of the details?”
“By all means, Admiral.”
“You’d wear a red dress--”
“Like the one that night?”
Bill nodded. “And I’d wear my dress grays.”
“Oh, spiffy.”
“I know you like them.” He paused. “After we’d finish our dessert, I’d clear the table for you, and you’d show me to your kitchen, so I could clean up.”
“You’d clean?”
“You’d have spent so much time cooking, and making that cake just for me--”
Laura shook her head. “I like it too.”
“Doesn’t matter. I’d clean up.”
“I knew I fell for you for a reason.”
He got up from the table and went to Laura’s side. “Take that back, Roslin.”
Laura giggled. Getting out a “make me” when she was calm enough.
Bill tickled her sides. It wasn’t fair; he knew all her ticklish spots. Laura resolved to learn his. After her giggle fit, of course.
“Uncle?”
Laura nodded. “Uncle.”
He kissed her then. She threw her arms around him, and got up from her chair. When they up for air, Laura said, “You never finished the rest of our story.”
“I’m about to show you how it ends.”
He carried her to their rack and showed her everything he would’ve done to and with her at the end of their date.
---------------------------------------------
She woke up to the sound of Bill’s voice. At first she thought it was part of her dream. It was deep and husky, just like in her dreams. Then she heard, “Thanks, Saul. I’ll let her know,” and she knew it was real.
She turned over to face him. Bill hung up the phone and looked at her. “Let me know what, Bill? What’s going on?”
“Eavesdropper. How do you know it was about you?”
Laura rolled her eyes. “I took a wild guess.”
“Some of the Occupy Warriors have gone to Colonial One.”
“Occupy Warriors?”
“That’s what they call themselves. Part of the Occupy Colonial One movement.”
“There’s a movement? It’s only been a few days, and there’s already a movement?!”
“It’ll pass. You know--”
She shook her head, her eyes flashing in defiance. “Don’t even. You won’t guilt me into going back that easily, Admiral.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it, Madame President.”
“Good.” She paused. “This sounds like it has Tom Zarek all over it.”
“That’s what I thought at first. Apparently they don’t like him any more than they like you, me, and Lee. They don’t like Baltar either.”
“No?”
“They call themselves the ninety-nine percent. They say the one percenters led them from one disaster to another, and we all suck.”
“Suck?”
“Their words; it’s all in their manifesto.”
She smirked; it was her annoyed politician smirk. “They’re welcome to try if they’d like.”
Bill shook his head. “They wouldn’t do any better, Laura.”
He climbed around Laura and out of the rack. He moved to the desk, opened one of the folders, and retrieved a thin pamphlet. He returned to the rack with it, handing it to Laura.
“Light reading material?”
He frowned. “Nothing light about it.”
Bill went into the head. Soon, she heard the shower running. His tension had returned; she hoped the shower would wash it away, but she doubted it would be enough. Laura looked down at the document. She wanted to know what was going on anyway. It didn’t mean she was going back, but she could help Bill and Lee deal with it. She started reading.
Anyone in possession of this handbook should remain fully aware at all times that some “one-percenters” will seek to have you executed for having this controversial publication. Our growing armies of Occupy Soldiers fleetwide know that a similar fate shall continue as a distinct possibility until the one-percenters are neutralized.
Laura was reminded of Baltar's book a little, but his wasn’t as much of a call to arms. And he never threatened to “neutralize” anyone. She read on:
All governments and political systems have failed throughout the course of human history. The dismal failures have included communism, capitalism, democracies, dictatorships, socialism, fascism, anarchism and wide-spread empires. The treaty with the Cylons will be another failure.
Okay. Such blanket statements had always annoyed her. This was no exception. But she kept reading, morbidly curious to see if they had a solution. There wasn’t a solution. And after reading so many poorly constructed arguments and incorrect sentences, Laura stopped being angry. Instead, she was sad. The manifesto in her hands was evidence of the failure of the Colonial educational system--of which she had been a part most of her adult life. The ninety-nine percenters were right in some regards--they had been failed.
But Laura couldn’t worry about that. When she returned to Colonial One--when she was ready--her priority had to be on maintaining peace with the Cylons and order within the fleet--with Lee’s help mostly--until she died. Then Bill, Lee, and the remaining four of the Final Five could figure out what to do from there.
Bill returned from the head. “What do you think?”
Laura smiled. “I think Lee can handle it just fine, Bill.”
Title: Preoccupation
Pairing: Adama/Roslin
Rating: T
Original Author: whatever_lj
Original work: Occupy Colonial One
Summary: Her days of bliss with Bill are interrupted when Laura discovers a new political movement within the fleet--and aboard Colonial One...
Laura lay in Bill’s--their--rack, wrapped in his arms, his frame cocooned against hers. She blinked a few times, remembering where she was and how she got there. It was quite a memory.
After Bill stopped her in the middle of her run, Laura knew they’d finally give themselves the break they deserved. And they did.
Standing in her guest quarters organizing her pills, Laura made her first impulsive decision in years. Which gave way to another. And then another.
The treatments may have been keeping her alive, but they weren’t allowing her to live. Whether she was or wasn’t the Dying Leader was a moot point. She was the leader, at least until the quorum cast their votes of no confidence, (She never thought she’d have that in common with Baltar.) and she was dying. Bill and Dr. Cottle could talk about hope and the possibilities of treatment all they wanted. Laura knew her body--it was fighting a losing battle.
So she stopped her treatment. And as soon as she did, she had the energy to run. It had been years since she had that kind of energy or inclination. That wasn’t the only kind of energy to return...
The treatments had put a major damper on her love life, which seemed to bother her more than Bill. He had been wonderful throughout the process. At night, he was unassuming, content to simply hold her, wiping away her tears of frustration. When he told her it was all right--or whatever he said in that tone of his--she almost believed him. Many nights, she fell asleep cocooned in his voice--and his love.
When they did try, Bill was very careful. Apparently, Dr. Cottle had decided the Admiral was her next of kin: Bill knew exactly what to do. She wondered if Cottle even supplied the lube and condoms. Anyway, Bill had always been gentle and patient. He was also steadfast and determined to get her off. She realized Bill was the same kind of lover as he was a man--quietly persistent. And she appreciated his efforts, especially when they were successful, which they usually were. Still, she mourned for the days when her body had been more responsive.
It seemed she had gotten those days back--at least for the time being. Each step was a reclamation. She may have been sore and slightly out breath, but it was good to feel that way, natural. She felt alive. And nothing could stop her--not even Admiral William Adama--from taking advantage of those feelings. As she ran through the other half of Galactica after her encounter with Bill in the corridor, she knew he finally got it. He’d allow them to truly live.
After her run, she returned to her quarters, showered, and waited for Bill to come to her. She knew he would, and she was right.
That night, he stormed into her guest quarters. A man on a mission--her. What happened next could have easily been written in the pages of those books Laura read--when she wasn’t reading mysteries and classics.
Afterward, they lay cuddled together in her rack. Neither of them cared about the controversy with the tylium ship or that Zarek was cooling his heels in the brig. Instead, Bill whispered sweet nothings in her ear, and Laura fell asleep holding onto the arm he had wrapped around her.
When they woke up, Bill asked, “Ready to go home now?”
Laura nodded.
Bill said, “All right, let’s go.”
Before she knew it, they had everything packed (there really wasn’t much), and they walked through the corridors of Galactica to their quarters.
Then they were home. Bill made room in his closet and drawers for Laura’s clothes--just as he had before. Laura watched as he found a home for everything she owned. He treated each item as an extension of her. Laura had to look away; it was overwhelming.
When he was finished unpacking, Bill came over to her. “You all right?” he asked, rubbing her arm.
Laura nodded. “I love you.”
Bill smiled and kissed her forehead. “I have just enough time for a shower before my shift. Care to join me?”
Laura took Bill’s hand, and he led her into the head. He barely left in time for his shift, but it was worth it.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------
Laura spent the day reading, although, she did glance at some of the reports on their desk. She told herself she didn’t care, that she was just curious. Plus, she needed to know what to tell Lee--or to tell Bill to tell him. Laura kept seeing the word “Occupy” in the reports.
She’d have to get Bill to tell her about that. Of course, she had to do it in a way that wouldn’t alert him that she was reading them. He’d only try to get her to go back to work in that passive aggressive way of his. He wouldn’t say anything, but he’d give her that look--she just wasn’t interested in going back yet. Too bad Tory wasn’t with her anymore--wasn’t even human. She was always good for getting information.
Laura went back to her book, trying to forget all about Occupy--and the other problems facing them. The fleet had Bill and Lee, and with Zarek in the brig, Lee would have control of the government. Laura would give him that control if she had to. She doubted that would be necessary, though. The young man had come into his own, and she was so very proud of him. If mentoring him was to be her legacy, then that would be enough for her.
Bill returned at the end of his shift. Laura met him at the hatch.
“How was your day, honey?” She never thought she’d be asking that question, but there she was at the end of the worlds, asking that cliché.
He grinned. “It’s about to get better.”
Laura could see the gleam in his eye. Her day was going to get better too. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her in for a tight hug. She loved the way he hugged her. There was so much strength and love in his hugs. He put enough distance between them so he could look at her face, kissed her forehead, and held her again.
“Ready to eat?” Laura asked, still in his arms.
“Yeah. Jaffee will be here soon.” There was something in his voice. A tension. Maybe she could help with that.
“Mmm.”
“Didn’t know you were that excited about algae.”
“I’m not.” She held him tighter.
“Oh.”
“Yes, ‘oh.’”
Bill released her from his hold, and they moved to the couch. She took both of his hands in hers, looking him in the eyes.
“Talk to me, Bill. What’s going on?”
He sighed. “It’s...We can talk about it later. It’s not that important.”
“No?”
“No," He smiled. "You’re what’s important.”
She returned the smile, and the tension dissipated.
They chatted about the book she had been reading, agreeing that he’d read it from where they left off together when they went to bed. Their light and easy conversation carried them until Jaffee arrived with their supper--the word “Occupy” forgotten.
The dinner wasn’t great, but the company was wonderful. Laura imagined them in her apartment on Caprica. They’d eat her favorite meal and have a wonderful evening together. Laura blinked.
“Where’d you go, Laura?”
“My apartment on Caprica.”
“Was I there with you?”
Laura nodded. “You were.”
“Was it nice?”
“Gods, yes.”
“Tell me.”
She did. She told him how they’d eat sushi from Picon, which she would have spent the better part of the afternoon preparing. How she would have made authentic Tauron cherry cake. How he would have brought the finest ambrosia.
“That’s a very nice picture. However, I’m afraid it’s incomplete.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Oh really?”
“Yes. Can I fill in some of the details?”
“By all means, Admiral.”
“You’d wear a red dress--”
“Like the one that night?”
Bill nodded. “And I’d wear my dress grays.”
“Oh, spiffy.”
“I know you like them.” He paused. “After we’d finish our dessert, I’d clear the table for you, and you’d show me to your kitchen, so I could clean up.”
“You’d clean?”
“You’d have spent so much time cooking, and making that cake just for me--”
Laura shook her head. “I like it too.”
“Doesn’t matter. I’d clean up.”
“I knew I fell for you for a reason.”
He got up from the table and went to Laura’s side. “Take that back, Roslin.”
Laura giggled. Getting out a “make me” when she was calm enough.
Bill tickled her sides. It wasn’t fair; he knew all her ticklish spots. Laura resolved to learn his. After her giggle fit, of course.
“Uncle?”
Laura nodded. “Uncle.”
He kissed her then. She threw her arms around him, and got up from her chair. When they up for air, Laura said, “You never finished the rest of our story.”
“I’m about to show you how it ends.”
He carried her to their rack and showed her everything he would’ve done to and with her at the end of their date.
---------------------------------------------
She woke up to the sound of Bill’s voice. At first she thought it was part of her dream. It was deep and husky, just like in her dreams. Then she heard, “Thanks, Saul. I’ll let her know,” and she knew it was real.
She turned over to face him. Bill hung up the phone and looked at her. “Let me know what, Bill? What’s going on?”
“Eavesdropper. How do you know it was about you?”
Laura rolled her eyes. “I took a wild guess.”
“Some of the Occupy Warriors have gone to Colonial One.”
“Occupy Warriors?”
“That’s what they call themselves. Part of the Occupy Colonial One movement.”
“There’s a movement? It’s only been a few days, and there’s already a movement?!”
“It’ll pass. You know--”
She shook her head, her eyes flashing in defiance. “Don’t even. You won’t guilt me into going back that easily, Admiral.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it, Madame President.”
“Good.” She paused. “This sounds like it has Tom Zarek all over it.”
“That’s what I thought at first. Apparently they don’t like him any more than they like you, me, and Lee. They don’t like Baltar either.”
“No?”
“They call themselves the ninety-nine percent. They say the one percenters led them from one disaster to another, and we all suck.”
“Suck?”
“Their words; it’s all in their manifesto.”
She smirked; it was her annoyed politician smirk. “They’re welcome to try if they’d like.”
Bill shook his head. “They wouldn’t do any better, Laura.”
He climbed around Laura and out of the rack. He moved to the desk, opened one of the folders, and retrieved a thin pamphlet. He returned to the rack with it, handing it to Laura.
“Light reading material?”
He frowned. “Nothing light about it.”
Bill went into the head. Soon, she heard the shower running. His tension had returned; she hoped the shower would wash it away, but she doubted it would be enough. Laura looked down at the document. She wanted to know what was going on anyway. It didn’t mean she was going back, but she could help Bill and Lee deal with it. She started reading.
Anyone in possession of this handbook should remain fully aware at all times that some “one-percenters” will seek to have you executed for having this controversial publication. Our growing armies of Occupy Soldiers fleetwide know that a similar fate shall continue as a distinct possibility until the one-percenters are neutralized.
Laura was reminded of Baltar's book a little, but his wasn’t as much of a call to arms. And he never threatened to “neutralize” anyone. She read on:
All governments and political systems have failed throughout the course of human history. The dismal failures have included communism, capitalism, democracies, dictatorships, socialism, fascism, anarchism and wide-spread empires. The treaty with the Cylons will be another failure.
Okay. Such blanket statements had always annoyed her. This was no exception. But she kept reading, morbidly curious to see if they had a solution. There wasn’t a solution. And after reading so many poorly constructed arguments and incorrect sentences, Laura stopped being angry. Instead, she was sad. The manifesto in her hands was evidence of the failure of the Colonial educational system--of which she had been a part most of her adult life. The ninety-nine percenters were right in some regards--they had been failed.
But Laura couldn’t worry about that. When she returned to Colonial One--when she was ready--her priority had to be on maintaining peace with the Cylons and order within the fleet--with Lee’s help mostly--until she died. Then Bill, Lee, and the remaining four of the Final Five could figure out what to do from there.
Bill returned from the head. “What do you think?”
Laura smiled. “I think Lee can handle it just fine, Bill.”