FIC: The Next Dance (11/14)
“What do you hear?” had come through her tent flap.
Laura called back, “Nothin’ but the rain.” It had been raining for days. She had loved hearing the patter of rain again at first, but now only Adama still enjoyed it. “So bring in the cat,” she urged.
Bill came through, smiling, moving into her arms easily. “You feel good,” he murmured, his rough cheek cold and damp against hers.
She wrapped her arms around his neck and just hugged him, not needing a kiss, yet. “You do too.”
“We have all evening,” he said. “All night,” he kissed her chastely. “And I’m sober as a priest.” The kiss deepened, and she ran her fingers through his thick, lengthening hair, squeezing the water from it.
“Uh, about that,” she gasped when he finally freed her.
Before she could explain, the baby sniffled from her cot.
“Who’s this?” Bill asked, going to look at the little girl.
“The daughter of one of my teachers. She’s ill, and doesn’t want to be around her baby,” said Laura.
“I can imagine,” he said slowly. “There’s not many medical supplies to rely on.”
Laura sat on the cot, pulling Isis to her lap. “And, uh, it means our evening is sort of blown.” She let him know, “I’m sorry, Bill. I couldn’t get a message up to you before you left.”
“Why wouldn’t I come?” he said. “There’ll be other nights. But we still have this evening before the last shuttle.”
She was surprised. He rummaged in his pocket, pulling out a large key and unsnapping it from its safety latch. Isis snatched it as he dangled it over her, gumming the key happily.
“Yes, you like that,” he said, his rumbling voice seeming to please the baby.
“Isn’t that the key to the nuclear missile activation?” Laura asked, shocked.
“Yeah, don’t tell anyone,” he said. “The boys used to love teething on it.” His face became sober. “Only use it’s getting these days, and that’s probably for the best.”
“Probably?” she said, lifting Isis over to him, who he accepted with a big smile.
He handled the baby expertly, to her surprise. He swept off Isis’ little hat, cradling her head in his large palm. “What is she, about nine months?”
He didn’t seem to notice her pause when she said, “Yes.” She decided to move ahead. “Her name is Isis.”
“Who greens our fields,” he said, exchanging big grins again with the girl.
Laura lay back on her cot, watching him. “You always wanted a daughter, didn’t you?”
He nodded, letting Isis chew on his finger. “Teeth, already,” he said, wincing.
“Although you got your daughters anyway.”
Bill tipped his head, a half-shrug. “I do have a goodly number of young female officers. It’s easy to see them as family.”
She gave a low laugh. “All right.” Tucking her pillow under her head, she asked, “Why did you want a daughter?”
He began rocking Isis; her eyelids grew heavy. He said, “I loved my sons, but they could be so competitive with each other, so combative with me and their mother--“
“And you thought a girl would be more passive?” she challenged.
“No, not at all,” he said. “But I’ve always been attracted to a woman’s unique spirit.”
She gave him a ‘that’s so?’ face.
“Yes,” he replied. “I stopped believing in the Gods pretty early in life, but clung to the Goddesses for a lot longer.”
She laughed, rolling onto her back, glancing over in time to see his incredibly tender expression as he watched her. She covered her own face with her hands, blocking out the intensity.
He said, “You’ve made me believe again--“
“I’m not a goddess,” she insisted through her fingers.
His rumble was like thunder: “Maybe just a minor deity...”
Not sure what he’d say next, she still said, “Don’t--“
He couldn’t stop himself: “You would have had beautiful girls.”
She had to change the subject, and blurted out, “I hear that you’re spending a lot of time with the Sharon model.”
He shifted the baby to his shoulder, pressing her head gently into the crook of his neck. Carefully, he said, “Who told you that?”
“I heard it around.”
“I don’t like to see you being used by Galius Baltar.”
“I don’t like to see you use divisive techniques to avoid a question,” she said, pushing up onto her elbows.
“No, you do not, Madam President,” he said quietly. He rose to slowly pace the room, rocking his little charge. She slept on, even as they fought in measured tones.
“I talk to her--“
“Why?”
“To gain intelligence. I’m still curious--”
She rose too, following a different path around the small space. “Sometimes your motives are curious.”
“You don’t think--“
“No,” she said evenly. “Again, stop trying to divert me. You’re trying to find an answer with no question. You can’t talk the machine out of her. It’s beyond circuits and wiring. They are more than skin jobs. They are blood jobs, and sweat jobs--“ She removed the baby for his arms, and Isis gasped displeasure, then settled back into her nap.
“I know that,” he gritted out.
“You’re trying to forget it,” she said.
He refastened the security key, not looking at her. “You didn’t know her--“
“I didn’t know it,” she said, covering the baby’s ears to block out their rising voices. “You don’t either.”
He said, “I should be going.”
“The answer won’t be different in another tent.”
“I should visit Tyrol and Cally.” He was at the flap, still not looking at her.
“It sure won’t be different there, if you’re foolish enough to bring it up.”
“I thought--“
“Never, Bill.” She laid Isis on the cot, saying, “I’ll never see those things as anything but what they are.”
“Until another time,” he said, finally meeting her level gaze.
Laura had to have the last word. “Perhaps it’s for the best that we’re no longer engaged with the Cylons. You seem to have lost your objectivity.”
He dropped the flap and she lowered herself to sit beside the slumbering baby. She laid a light hand on the tiny chest, feeling it rise and fall with each breath. “Sleep, little one,” she said.
It was the last time she saw Adama until they were standing across from each other in Colonial One, back in space, suddenly foreign bodies in the same space.
Next>>>
Laura called back, “Nothin’ but the rain.” It had been raining for days. She had loved hearing the patter of rain again at first, but now only Adama still enjoyed it. “So bring in the cat,” she urged.
Bill came through, smiling, moving into her arms easily. “You feel good,” he murmured, his rough cheek cold and damp against hers.
She wrapped her arms around his neck and just hugged him, not needing a kiss, yet. “You do too.”
“We have all evening,” he said. “All night,” he kissed her chastely. “And I’m sober as a priest.” The kiss deepened, and she ran her fingers through his thick, lengthening hair, squeezing the water from it.
“Uh, about that,” she gasped when he finally freed her.
Before she could explain, the baby sniffled from her cot.
“Who’s this?” Bill asked, going to look at the little girl.
“The daughter of one of my teachers. She’s ill, and doesn’t want to be around her baby,” said Laura.
“I can imagine,” he said slowly. “There’s not many medical supplies to rely on.”
Laura sat on the cot, pulling Isis to her lap. “And, uh, it means our evening is sort of blown.” She let him know, “I’m sorry, Bill. I couldn’t get a message up to you before you left.”
“Why wouldn’t I come?” he said. “There’ll be other nights. But we still have this evening before the last shuttle.”
She was surprised. He rummaged in his pocket, pulling out a large key and unsnapping it from its safety latch. Isis snatched it as he dangled it over her, gumming the key happily.
“Yes, you like that,” he said, his rumbling voice seeming to please the baby.
“Isn’t that the key to the nuclear missile activation?” Laura asked, shocked.
“Yeah, don’t tell anyone,” he said. “The boys used to love teething on it.” His face became sober. “Only use it’s getting these days, and that’s probably for the best.”
“Probably?” she said, lifting Isis over to him, who he accepted with a big smile.
He handled the baby expertly, to her surprise. He swept off Isis’ little hat, cradling her head in his large palm. “What is she, about nine months?”
He didn’t seem to notice her pause when she said, “Yes.” She decided to move ahead. “Her name is Isis.”
“Who greens our fields,” he said, exchanging big grins again with the girl.
Laura lay back on her cot, watching him. “You always wanted a daughter, didn’t you?”
He nodded, letting Isis chew on his finger. “Teeth, already,” he said, wincing.
“Although you got your daughters anyway.”
Bill tipped his head, a half-shrug. “I do have a goodly number of young female officers. It’s easy to see them as family.”
She gave a low laugh. “All right.” Tucking her pillow under her head, she asked, “Why did you want a daughter?”
He began rocking Isis; her eyelids grew heavy. He said, “I loved my sons, but they could be so competitive with each other, so combative with me and their mother--“
“And you thought a girl would be more passive?” she challenged.
“No, not at all,” he said. “But I’ve always been attracted to a woman’s unique spirit.”
She gave him a ‘that’s so?’ face.
“Yes,” he replied. “I stopped believing in the Gods pretty early in life, but clung to the Goddesses for a lot longer.”
She laughed, rolling onto her back, glancing over in time to see his incredibly tender expression as he watched her. She covered her own face with her hands, blocking out the intensity.
He said, “You’ve made me believe again--“
“I’m not a goddess,” she insisted through her fingers.
His rumble was like thunder: “Maybe just a minor deity...”
Not sure what he’d say next, she still said, “Don’t--“
He couldn’t stop himself: “You would have had beautiful girls.”
She had to change the subject, and blurted out, “I hear that you’re spending a lot of time with the Sharon model.”
He shifted the baby to his shoulder, pressing her head gently into the crook of his neck. Carefully, he said, “Who told you that?”
“I heard it around.”
“I don’t like to see you being used by Galius Baltar.”
“I don’t like to see you use divisive techniques to avoid a question,” she said, pushing up onto her elbows.
“No, you do not, Madam President,” he said quietly. He rose to slowly pace the room, rocking his little charge. She slept on, even as they fought in measured tones.
“I talk to her--“
“Why?”
“To gain intelligence. I’m still curious--”
She rose too, following a different path around the small space. “Sometimes your motives are curious.”
“You don’t think--“
“No,” she said evenly. “Again, stop trying to divert me. You’re trying to find an answer with no question. You can’t talk the machine out of her. It’s beyond circuits and wiring. They are more than skin jobs. They are blood jobs, and sweat jobs--“ She removed the baby for his arms, and Isis gasped displeasure, then settled back into her nap.
“I know that,” he gritted out.
“You’re trying to forget it,” she said.
He refastened the security key, not looking at her. “You didn’t know her--“
“I didn’t know it,” she said, covering the baby’s ears to block out their rising voices. “You don’t either.”
He said, “I should be going.”
“The answer won’t be different in another tent.”
“I should visit Tyrol and Cally.” He was at the flap, still not looking at her.
“It sure won’t be different there, if you’re foolish enough to bring it up.”
“I thought--“
“Never, Bill.” She laid Isis on the cot, saying, “I’ll never see those things as anything but what they are.”
“Until another time,” he said, finally meeting her level gaze.
Laura had to have the last word. “Perhaps it’s for the best that we’re no longer engaged with the Cylons. You seem to have lost your objectivity.”
He dropped the flap and she lowered herself to sit beside the slumbering baby. She laid a light hand on the tiny chest, feeling it rise and fall with each breath. “Sleep, little one,” she said.
It was the last time she saw Adama until they were standing across from each other in Colonial One, back in space, suddenly foreign bodies in the same space.
Next>>>