On a Day Like Today - Chapter Four
Title: On a Day Like Today
Chapter 4/8
Rated M
Thank you to lacklusterfic for the beta. :)
Written for redrockcan and kastari for their generous donation to the Queensland Flood Appeal.
Timeline: Dirty Hands to He That Believeth in Me
Laura tapped her pencil on the desk. She couldn’t focus on the reports laid out before her.
Tory had noticed her distraction this morning. She’d let out a martyred sigh whenever she was forced to remind Laura of the task at hand. Then, a few minutes ago, she’d tetchily asked if Laura intended to spend the night on Galactica again, since if that was the case, meetings would need to be rescheduled.
Laura hadn’t given her a definite answer, because there was none.
Bill had risen early this morning, leaving her to sprawl across his rack and spend an extra half an hour lying in.
Before he left, he’d bent down and given her a brief kiss, but they hadn’t spoken.
For people who talked to each other every day, they had a gift for avoiding conversations that involved themselves as the subject.
Laura was still a stressed-out bundle of nerves. She should feel refreshed, considering she had slept almost the entire night through. As she hadn’t slept more than six straight hours since before the Cylon occupation on New Caprica, this was quite a feat.
The comm unit beside her began to buzz. She snatched it up eagerly, keen to avoid having to reflect upon last night yet again. Her caller wasn’t going to give her any chance of that, however.
“What time did you get up?”
“Not long after you left. I helped myself to a shower. Hope you don’t mind.”
“I had to shower this morning too. I used cold water,” he remarked, with a playful note in his voice.
She snorted. “I’m sorry,” she said insincerely.
Bill said nothing for a few seconds; his breath coming down the line sounded slightly unsteady. “I could get used to it,” he finally admitted huskily.
“So could I, but-“
“We don’t live in a perfect world, Laura.”
A sigh escaped her involuntarily, surprising even her with its intensity.
“I actually rang to tell you I’ve had to swap a few things around with the refuelling, so I’ll be on night duty for the next three nights.”
She bit down on her lip, overwhelmed by disappointment.
“It will help me with my nobility anyway,” he added.
She should laugh, she knew he was having a joke with her, but suddenly, devastatingly, she knew that she wanted to take that next step with him.
“Nobility’s overrated. I think--” She paused, needing to speak carefully so she made herself perfectly clear. “I think I should stay over again, when you finish night shift. And we should give nobility a miss.”
“Laura--” he growled down the line.
“Yes, Bill. You’ve given me enough time. Let’s be selfish for just a while.”
“When I finish night shift?” he asked, complete wonderment in his tone. “I’m going to lose my mind, thinking about it.”
“Are you saying you haven’t been thinking about it for the past two years?” she teased, feigning shock.
“You know I have.”
“Goodbye, Admiral. We’ll talk soon.”
She replaced the telephone and giggled. Suddenly a great weight lifted from her shoulders.
Three days later and they had hardly talked at all. The refuelling was dominating Bill’s time and energy. Apart from normal Fleet business, Laura was busy trying to implement the changes that she and Tyrol had agreed to. And of course there was the upcoming trial. She and the prosecutor were meeting on a daily basis to talk strategy.
She and Bill had met once, but had kept their talk strictly to business.
They’d endeavoured to keep their behaviour businesslike too--and had almost succeeded. An observant witness might have noticed the small touches, lingering glances and flirty smiles that she and Bill had shared.
Bill had called her every night, officially to update her on Fleet business, unofficially to check on how she was sleeping. She was loath to admit she was once again pacing the floors on Colonial One at all hours of the night.
Tonight her fingers were crossed that she might enjoy another night of solid sleep. Right after she enjoyed a long satisfying session of sex, of course. She shivered with anticipation.
She opened her wardrobe, flicking through the few meagre outfits on offer. Bill had seen her in everything already. Whatever she chose, she hoped she wouldn’t keep it on for very long.
This thought led her to the problem that had plagued her for the last two nights and caused her yet more sleeplessness - the red and swollen skin on her left breast.
The day she made her decision to sleep with Bill, she’d asked Tory to try and source anti-wrinkle cream or an equivalent. The girl had given her a puzzled look, but the next day she supplied Laura with a small amount of a moisturiser originally meant for night time facial use.
Since then, Laura had rubbed it into the puckered skin every morning and night, hoping it was a rash that would fade given time.
Bill would surely make a big deal out of it if he saw it; probably march her straight down to Cottle.
She could keep her bra on, and hope that he thought she was deliberately offering him a tantalising hint of sexiness. That was if the two plain old white bras now in her possession could ever be considered sexy.
She could ask him to turn off the lights. However, that didn’t make much sense. It may have been over two years since she’d last had sex, but why would she be acting like a shy virgin around Bill?
She finally settled on wearing her tight-fitting dark green sweater with the three-quarter sleeves, and a matching mid-length skirt. Bill may have seen the ensemble before, but that hadn’t stopped his eyes from lingering on the curves the top highlighted.
Laura frowned, realising the bra idea wasn’t going to work. Bill would surely want to look and touch. And there was no way she wouldn’t want him to touch. The thought of him touching her… She flopped down onto her small cot, unable to stand because of her trembling legs.
She opened the sash of her white gown, and looked down at her breast again. Tracing her fingers over her skin, she felt its roughness, like the skin of an orange. Sighing, she lay down on the bed and stared up at the metallic ceiling above. She would have to tell him. There really was no way he would never notice. Bill noticed things about her when she was fully dressed and talking to him from another ship, let alone when they were naked and in the same bed together.
Laura sat up again, picked up her telephone, and requested a ship-to-ship call.
“Doctor Cottle on Galactica, please,” she requested.
She waited for a few minutes until finally the communications officer of Colonial One came back on the line.
“I’m sorry, Madam President, Galactica is under attack and all calls are being denied.”
Laura froze, gripping the telephone until her knuckles turned white. “Attack?”
“I’ll try and find out what’s going on, Madam President.”
“Thank you,” she mumbled.
Laura hunched her shoulders and stretched her neck until she could see out through her room’s small window. Galactica sat in formation as she always did. No damage was visible.
“Madam President? I’m putting you through to Galactica actual,” her communications officer told her about fifteen minutes later.
She sighed with relief. “Bill? What’s wrong? What’s going on?”
“Madam President. I’m sorry, the Admiral has left CIC.”
“Dee? What’s going on? I was told you were under attack.”
“No Cylon Raiders have attacked Galactica, ma’am. But a Viper has been lost.” Dee’s voice was shaky, in sharp contrast to her usual calm demeanour.
“Lee?” Laura gulped.
“No, Captain Apollo’s Viper has been accounted for.” Dee dragged in a deep breath. “No, it’s Starbuck. Starbuck is dead.”
Laura felt a sharp pain shoot through her body. Kara was dead?... But she’d just seen the girl; had watched her give Bill a piece for his model ship.
This couldn’t be right. Kara was destined to die during a refuelling mission? Kara was meant to go out with a blaze of glory - not this…
“What happened?” Laura finally asked.
“It’s not clear yet, but she flew into the wormhole and...”
“I see. The Admiral?”
“He’s returned to his quarters,” Dee informed her. “And requested no calls unless there was a Cylon attack.”
“No, no, of course not. Leave him for now. Thank you, Dee,” she said, hanging up.
Laura slowly returned the green sweater and skirt to their place in the wardrobe before moving to her dressing table.
She smoothed some cream into the roughened skin of her breast. Then she turned off her light and huddled underneath the covers of her cot.
Tears welled in her eyes and dripped down her cheeks. Kara had been such a fighter. And she’d had Bill in her corner, taking punch after punch for her.
And yet, she was still dead.
Link to next chapter
Chapter 4/8
Rated M
Thank you to lacklusterfic for the beta. :)
Written for redrockcan and kastari for their generous donation to the Queensland Flood Appeal.
Timeline: Dirty Hands to He That Believeth in Me
Laura tapped her pencil on the desk. She couldn’t focus on the reports laid out before her.
Tory had noticed her distraction this morning. She’d let out a martyred sigh whenever she was forced to remind Laura of the task at hand. Then, a few minutes ago, she’d tetchily asked if Laura intended to spend the night on Galactica again, since if that was the case, meetings would need to be rescheduled.
Laura hadn’t given her a definite answer, because there was none.
Bill had risen early this morning, leaving her to sprawl across his rack and spend an extra half an hour lying in.
Before he left, he’d bent down and given her a brief kiss, but they hadn’t spoken.
For people who talked to each other every day, they had a gift for avoiding conversations that involved themselves as the subject.
Laura was still a stressed-out bundle of nerves. She should feel refreshed, considering she had slept almost the entire night through. As she hadn’t slept more than six straight hours since before the Cylon occupation on New Caprica, this was quite a feat.
The comm unit beside her began to buzz. She snatched it up eagerly, keen to avoid having to reflect upon last night yet again. Her caller wasn’t going to give her any chance of that, however.
“What time did you get up?”
“Not long after you left. I helped myself to a shower. Hope you don’t mind.”
“I had to shower this morning too. I used cold water,” he remarked, with a playful note in his voice.
She snorted. “I’m sorry,” she said insincerely.
Bill said nothing for a few seconds; his breath coming down the line sounded slightly unsteady. “I could get used to it,” he finally admitted huskily.
“So could I, but-“
“We don’t live in a perfect world, Laura.”
A sigh escaped her involuntarily, surprising even her with its intensity.
“I actually rang to tell you I’ve had to swap a few things around with the refuelling, so I’ll be on night duty for the next three nights.”
She bit down on her lip, overwhelmed by disappointment.
“It will help me with my nobility anyway,” he added.
She should laugh, she knew he was having a joke with her, but suddenly, devastatingly, she knew that she wanted to take that next step with him.
“Nobility’s overrated. I think--” She paused, needing to speak carefully so she made herself perfectly clear. “I think I should stay over again, when you finish night shift. And we should give nobility a miss.”
“Laura--” he growled down the line.
“Yes, Bill. You’ve given me enough time. Let’s be selfish for just a while.”
“When I finish night shift?” he asked, complete wonderment in his tone. “I’m going to lose my mind, thinking about it.”
“Are you saying you haven’t been thinking about it for the past two years?” she teased, feigning shock.
“You know I have.”
“Goodbye, Admiral. We’ll talk soon.”
She replaced the telephone and giggled. Suddenly a great weight lifted from her shoulders.
Three days later and they had hardly talked at all. The refuelling was dominating Bill’s time and energy. Apart from normal Fleet business, Laura was busy trying to implement the changes that she and Tyrol had agreed to. And of course there was the upcoming trial. She and the prosecutor were meeting on a daily basis to talk strategy.
She and Bill had met once, but had kept their talk strictly to business.
They’d endeavoured to keep their behaviour businesslike too--and had almost succeeded. An observant witness might have noticed the small touches, lingering glances and flirty smiles that she and Bill had shared.
Bill had called her every night, officially to update her on Fleet business, unofficially to check on how she was sleeping. She was loath to admit she was once again pacing the floors on Colonial One at all hours of the night.
Tonight her fingers were crossed that she might enjoy another night of solid sleep. Right after she enjoyed a long satisfying session of sex, of course. She shivered with anticipation.
She opened her wardrobe, flicking through the few meagre outfits on offer. Bill had seen her in everything already. Whatever she chose, she hoped she wouldn’t keep it on for very long.
This thought led her to the problem that had plagued her for the last two nights and caused her yet more sleeplessness - the red and swollen skin on her left breast.
The day she made her decision to sleep with Bill, she’d asked Tory to try and source anti-wrinkle cream or an equivalent. The girl had given her a puzzled look, but the next day she supplied Laura with a small amount of a moisturiser originally meant for night time facial use.
Since then, Laura had rubbed it into the puckered skin every morning and night, hoping it was a rash that would fade given time.
Bill would surely make a big deal out of it if he saw it; probably march her straight down to Cottle.
She could keep her bra on, and hope that he thought she was deliberately offering him a tantalising hint of sexiness. That was if the two plain old white bras now in her possession could ever be considered sexy.
She could ask him to turn off the lights. However, that didn’t make much sense. It may have been over two years since she’d last had sex, but why would she be acting like a shy virgin around Bill?
She finally settled on wearing her tight-fitting dark green sweater with the three-quarter sleeves, and a matching mid-length skirt. Bill may have seen the ensemble before, but that hadn’t stopped his eyes from lingering on the curves the top highlighted.
Laura frowned, realising the bra idea wasn’t going to work. Bill would surely want to look and touch. And there was no way she wouldn’t want him to touch. The thought of him touching her… She flopped down onto her small cot, unable to stand because of her trembling legs.
She opened the sash of her white gown, and looked down at her breast again. Tracing her fingers over her skin, she felt its roughness, like the skin of an orange. Sighing, she lay down on the bed and stared up at the metallic ceiling above. She would have to tell him. There really was no way he would never notice. Bill noticed things about her when she was fully dressed and talking to him from another ship, let alone when they were naked and in the same bed together.
Laura sat up again, picked up her telephone, and requested a ship-to-ship call.
“Doctor Cottle on Galactica, please,” she requested.
She waited for a few minutes until finally the communications officer of Colonial One came back on the line.
“I’m sorry, Madam President, Galactica is under attack and all calls are being denied.”
Laura froze, gripping the telephone until her knuckles turned white. “Attack?”
“I’ll try and find out what’s going on, Madam President.”
“Thank you,” she mumbled.
Laura hunched her shoulders and stretched her neck until she could see out through her room’s small window. Galactica sat in formation as she always did. No damage was visible.
“Madam President? I’m putting you through to Galactica actual,” her communications officer told her about fifteen minutes later.
She sighed with relief. “Bill? What’s wrong? What’s going on?”
“Madam President. I’m sorry, the Admiral has left CIC.”
“Dee? What’s going on? I was told you were under attack.”
“No Cylon Raiders have attacked Galactica, ma’am. But a Viper has been lost.” Dee’s voice was shaky, in sharp contrast to her usual calm demeanour.
“Lee?” Laura gulped.
“No, Captain Apollo’s Viper has been accounted for.” Dee dragged in a deep breath. “No, it’s Starbuck. Starbuck is dead.”
Laura felt a sharp pain shoot through her body. Kara was dead?... But she’d just seen the girl; had watched her give Bill a piece for his model ship.
This couldn’t be right. Kara was destined to die during a refuelling mission? Kara was meant to go out with a blaze of glory - not this…
“What happened?” Laura finally asked.
“It’s not clear yet, but she flew into the wormhole and...”
“I see. The Admiral?”
“He’s returned to his quarters,” Dee informed her. “And requested no calls unless there was a Cylon attack.”
“No, no, of course not. Leave him for now. Thank you, Dee,” she said, hanging up.
Laura slowly returned the green sweater and skirt to their place in the wardrobe before moving to her dressing table.
She smoothed some cream into the roughened skin of her breast. Then she turned off her light and huddled underneath the covers of her cot.
Tears welled in her eyes and dripped down her cheeks. Kara had been such a fighter. And she’d had Bill in her corner, taking punch after punch for her.
And yet, she was still dead.
Link to next chapter