For the WIP Challenge ...
This is a fic I started a while ago on a challenge, I think, from karihan. Ellen/Tigh, Adama/Tigh, was supposed to end up as some sort of messed up threesome and I think the ending is open for that possibility still. It also works for the bsg_1000 challenge.
Notes: Rated mature for adult themes, don't own these characters, etc. etc.
Obstacles
~*~
He married her after a marathon drinking session that ended with the two of them exchanging vows in Caprica's foulest after-hours bar, somewhere between the billet table and a contraception dispenser. The priest was loaded to the gills but the marriage was legal enough Tigh said and besides, if it wasn't, he'd have his boss, the commander of the Galactica marry them proper.
An ugly laugh followed that statement, but Ellen was too preoccupied to wonder what it meant.
That was her first mistake.
Only happy thoughts were on her mind that night. Second-in-command, Tigh was colonel aboard a real Battlestar and with a little "help" from her, Saul would one day be first-in-command, she thought hazily, licking her lips.
The Commander's wife ... Mrs. Ellen Tigh.
Oh, yes. That sounded just right.
They spent the next two days fucking and drinking until the booze disappeared, almost at the same moment Saul's insatiable appetite for his new wife fled.
They lay together for many hours, silent and nursing a pair of monstrous hangovers. For the rest of the honeymoon they remained sober ... and chaste.
Ellen was grateful for the break. Time was needed to put herself back together to create the proper impression aboard what would soon be her Battlestar, in all but name.
She was going to own that ship, along with all the visiting dignitaries. With some maneuvering, who knew? Eventually, she might even be able to work her way into the President's circle.
This pleasant train of thought kept her occupied all the up to the shuttle ride that took them to Galactica. Strangely, Saul was miserable the entire ride, sweating and fidgeting in his seat.
"What's the matter?" she asked impatiently. "Is there something wrong?"
"Nothing that concerns you."
Gruffly, and Ellen Tigh got her first inkling that this might not be the marriage she'd always dreamed of. The shuttle landed and a sick-looking Tigh seemed in no hurry to get off, curled into his seat like a man about to face his own execution.
The hatch opened. Smoothing her skirt and blouse, Ellen prepared to disembark, pasting on her most enchanting smile.
It was time to wow 'em, and good.
Except that the man standing at the bottom of the ramp didn't seem all that impressed. "I'm sorry, 'mam," he said, his sonorous voice filling the deck. "I thought this was Colonel Tigh's ship."
"Oh, it is ..." she started, only to be pushed aside by Saul.
"Permission to come aboard, sir," he said, his voice small. Guilty.
"Permission granted." The man's expression was oddly cold. "May I ask who you're bringing aboard with you?"
Saul's face crumbled and Ellen felt something within her chest brutally twist. "This ... this is ..." he mumbled.
"Mrs. Saul Tigh," Ellen said, striding down the ramp, her hand outstretched. "I'm so pleased to meet you."
"Commander Adama," the man replied. His gaze remained steadily fixed on Tigh. Eventually, he reached out to shake Ellen's hand. "Congratulations, Mrs. Tigh, although I must say I was unaware that my XO was engaged to be married."
"Oh, it was a spur-of-the-moment sort of thing," she giggled, even as inside, rage seethed. Behind her, Saul was slouching like a guilty schoolboy versus the upstanding ... powerful ... military officer she thought she was marrying. "You know what they say about love at first sight."
"No, I'm afraid I don't," Adama replied. He held out his hand to Tigh. "Congratulations."
Saul took it. He looked like a criminal convicted. "Thank you."
An strange undercurrent of emotion flowed between the two men. Ellen tried to decipher it, but she wasn't very good at reading sober people. All the more reason to get herself and her new husband a drink. "So where's the bar aboard this boat?" she joked, but neither Adama nor Saul laughed.
"We don't have one," Adama replied, his eyes never leaving Tigh's, who flinched beneath his scrutiny. "If you have baggage, I'll send down a crew member to help you get it to quarters."
He crooked his finger and two lower ranked men ran up. "Sir?"
"Escort the XO and his wife to their quarters." Adama removed his glasses and cleaned them off on his jacket. "Once you're settled, I'd like to come by and speak to you, Saul."
"Right." Tigh sounded breathless, like he'd forgotten how to breathe.
"Oh, let's make a dinner of it ..." Ellen began, but a glance from Adama stopped her mid-sentence.
"We need to speak alone, thank you." The glasses went back on. "One hour, Saul."
"One hour," Tigh replied and it was as if Ellen had melted into the deck. Gone, as if she'd never been there at all.
With effort, she leashed in the rage. Started planning a way to hear this special conversation of theirs.
She had a feeling it might be important.
~*~
It was important, but not in the way she'd imagined.
"You were the one who told me to get lost."
"We have an argument and you think the best way to settle it is to come back with a wife?"
"I ... I wasn't thinking."
"That much is clear."
"You're a hard-hearted bastard, you know that, Bill? A cold-blooded son of a bitch, that's what you are. You don't care what happens or how many times you break my heart ..."
"I break your heart? I want you to look out there and see what you've done. Done to us and to this woman who probably deserves better than being a pawn in a game you decided to play when you had too much to drink."
"I can fix this."
"Go to your wife, Saul."
"I'm telling you, I can fix ..."
"Go to your wife. Fix it with her, because there is nothing here to fix. Report to the bridge at 0800, sharp. That will be all."
"Bill ..."
"I said, that will be all. Goodnight, Saul."
Broken whispers of "hard-hearted bastard" followed Adama's departure and Ellen ran her hand along the closed lav door. Felt the coldness of the metal enter her heart, replacing any love she might have felt for the man in the other room who fell into a chair and started to weep, like a child.
Nothing more than a minor obstacle, she thought, her jaw tight.
Nothing more at all.
~*~
perhaps someday to be continued ...
Notes: Rated mature for adult themes, don't own these characters, etc. etc.
Obstacles
~*~
He married her after a marathon drinking session that ended with the two of them exchanging vows in Caprica's foulest after-hours bar, somewhere between the billet table and a contraception dispenser. The priest was loaded to the gills but the marriage was legal enough Tigh said and besides, if it wasn't, he'd have his boss, the commander of the Galactica marry them proper.
An ugly laugh followed that statement, but Ellen was too preoccupied to wonder what it meant.
That was her first mistake.
Only happy thoughts were on her mind that night. Second-in-command, Tigh was colonel aboard a real Battlestar and with a little "help" from her, Saul would one day be first-in-command, she thought hazily, licking her lips.
The Commander's wife ... Mrs. Ellen Tigh.
Oh, yes. That sounded just right.
They spent the next two days fucking and drinking until the booze disappeared, almost at the same moment Saul's insatiable appetite for his new wife fled.
They lay together for many hours, silent and nursing a pair of monstrous hangovers. For the rest of the honeymoon they remained sober ... and chaste.
Ellen was grateful for the break. Time was needed to put herself back together to create the proper impression aboard what would soon be her Battlestar, in all but name.
She was going to own that ship, along with all the visiting dignitaries. With some maneuvering, who knew? Eventually, she might even be able to work her way into the President's circle.
This pleasant train of thought kept her occupied all the up to the shuttle ride that took them to Galactica. Strangely, Saul was miserable the entire ride, sweating and fidgeting in his seat.
"What's the matter?" she asked impatiently. "Is there something wrong?"
"Nothing that concerns you."
Gruffly, and Ellen Tigh got her first inkling that this might not be the marriage she'd always dreamed of. The shuttle landed and a sick-looking Tigh seemed in no hurry to get off, curled into his seat like a man about to face his own execution.
The hatch opened. Smoothing her skirt and blouse, Ellen prepared to disembark, pasting on her most enchanting smile.
It was time to wow 'em, and good.
Except that the man standing at the bottom of the ramp didn't seem all that impressed. "I'm sorry, 'mam," he said, his sonorous voice filling the deck. "I thought this was Colonel Tigh's ship."
"Oh, it is ..." she started, only to be pushed aside by Saul.
"Permission to come aboard, sir," he said, his voice small. Guilty.
"Permission granted." The man's expression was oddly cold. "May I ask who you're bringing aboard with you?"
Saul's face crumbled and Ellen felt something within her chest brutally twist. "This ... this is ..." he mumbled.
"Mrs. Saul Tigh," Ellen said, striding down the ramp, her hand outstretched. "I'm so pleased to meet you."
"Commander Adama," the man replied. His gaze remained steadily fixed on Tigh. Eventually, he reached out to shake Ellen's hand. "Congratulations, Mrs. Tigh, although I must say I was unaware that my XO was engaged to be married."
"Oh, it was a spur-of-the-moment sort of thing," she giggled, even as inside, rage seethed. Behind her, Saul was slouching like a guilty schoolboy versus the upstanding ... powerful ... military officer she thought she was marrying. "You know what they say about love at first sight."
"No, I'm afraid I don't," Adama replied. He held out his hand to Tigh. "Congratulations."
Saul took it. He looked like a criminal convicted. "Thank you."
An strange undercurrent of emotion flowed between the two men. Ellen tried to decipher it, but she wasn't very good at reading sober people. All the more reason to get herself and her new husband a drink. "So where's the bar aboard this boat?" she joked, but neither Adama nor Saul laughed.
"We don't have one," Adama replied, his eyes never leaving Tigh's, who flinched beneath his scrutiny. "If you have baggage, I'll send down a crew member to help you get it to quarters."
He crooked his finger and two lower ranked men ran up. "Sir?"
"Escort the XO and his wife to their quarters." Adama removed his glasses and cleaned them off on his jacket. "Once you're settled, I'd like to come by and speak to you, Saul."
"Right." Tigh sounded breathless, like he'd forgotten how to breathe.
"Oh, let's make a dinner of it ..." Ellen began, but a glance from Adama stopped her mid-sentence.
"We need to speak alone, thank you." The glasses went back on. "One hour, Saul."
"One hour," Tigh replied and it was as if Ellen had melted into the deck. Gone, as if she'd never been there at all.
With effort, she leashed in the rage. Started planning a way to hear this special conversation of theirs.
She had a feeling it might be important.
~*~
It was important, but not in the way she'd imagined.
"You were the one who told me to get lost."
"We have an argument and you think the best way to settle it is to come back with a wife?"
"I ... I wasn't thinking."
"That much is clear."
"You're a hard-hearted bastard, you know that, Bill? A cold-blooded son of a bitch, that's what you are. You don't care what happens or how many times you break my heart ..."
"I break your heart? I want you to look out there and see what you've done. Done to us and to this woman who probably deserves better than being a pawn in a game you decided to play when you had too much to drink."
"I can fix this."
"Go to your wife, Saul."
"I'm telling you, I can fix ..."
"Go to your wife. Fix it with her, because there is nothing here to fix. Report to the bridge at 0800, sharp. That will be all."
"Bill ..."
"I said, that will be all. Goodnight, Saul."
Broken whispers of "hard-hearted bastard" followed Adama's departure and Ellen ran her hand along the closed lav door. Felt the coldness of the metal enter her heart, replacing any love she might have felt for the man in the other room who fell into a chair and started to weep, like a child.
Nothing more than a minor obstacle, she thought, her jaw tight.
Nothing more at all.
~*~
perhaps someday to be continued ...