FIC: The Weight of His Heart in my Hands
Title: The Weight of His Heart in my Hands
Author: bugs
Genre: Drama, Angst, Romance
Rating: T
Word Count: 1,400
Setting: Fragged and Resistance
Summary: Chamalla withdrawal can be a bitch.
A/N: Written for about_time's first writing prompt 'about time.' If you haven't checked out this comm, I highly recommend it! (As one of the mods, I can attest that it totally rocks. All Adama/Roslin, all the time!)
~*~
I entered the silent and dim sickbay and approached the bed where Commander Adama lay. His chest rose and fell, powered by the respirator. The breathing tube dragged down the corner of his mouth, giving him a pained grimace.
A woman stood by his bed, murmuring low prayers.
"Elosha."
She looked up. "Madam President," she said conversationally.
"What are you doing here?" I asked, feeling as though she was somehow invading my place.
"He needs my prayers."
"He's not a believer," I insisted, still upset.
"He needs me none the less." She laid her hands on his bandaged chest, and the bloodstained white cotton disappeared, revealing angry red marks across his thick torso.
Before I could ask how that happened, the scars distorted and twined together. One head, then another, rose to stare up at me.
"Elosha..."
"Yes, Madam President?"
I was barely able to speak. "Is the Commander the dying leader?"
She only laughed and the room slowly collapsed in, smothering me like a heavy blanket. As the darkness descended, I managed to find the Commander's hand and hold it tightly before all was gone.
I walked through the Galactica's corridors. For once, no crewmembers bustled by, no alarms rang out nor announcements droned down from the speakers. I wasn't sure where I was going until I found myself before a hatch marked Commander. Yes, I wanted to see if Commander Adama was all right.
I rapped but there was no answer.
Pushing the hatch open, I entered his dim quarters. I roamed the space which was becoming more familiar with each visit. My fingers traced the books in the shelves. I slipped off my shoes to run my toes through the lush carpets. I glanced at the open logbook; the pages were blank.
The rack was empty.
Unsure where to search next, I sank into the plush couch. Exhaustion overcame me and I closed my eyes.
I don't know how long I napped but a wide palm cradled my jaw, guiding my head to meet lips, warm and soft as they traced my cheekbone down to the corner of my mouth. I still didn't open my eyes. After decades of brisk, efficient sexual release, this gentle intimacy unsettled me; I didn't know how to respond. It was an extravagance to allow these hands and lips to slide over my limbs, pushing away my shirt, his mouth latching onto my shoulder.
My bra disappeared like his bandages had.
The supple leather moaned beneath us. I dared to open my eyes but the darkness was back. There were only shadows, forming and reforming; a thickly muscled upper arm that I grabbed for support like a tree branch; a bristled jawline, tilting to access my bared neck; the shoulders hunched under my frantic hands.
My tension, like a rich chocolate melting on my tongue, softened and flowed. Relaxed at last, my hands stroked over his chest--the angry red seam was open. My fingers sank into the heat and moisture until I found his heart. I cradled it, reassured by the even, slow beat.
My breathing slowed to match its rhythm. It was mine...It was mine.
I stood in the hatchway and watched the two bodies twined on the couch, unable to catch their low murmurings, like the faint cooing of doves in trees high above.
"You know what this means, don't you?" said Elosha beside me.
"No."
"You don't?"
"No, I don't want to."
She sighed with exasperation.
"There's too much work to do, Elosha."
"Yes," she agreed.
"I cannot be distracted."
"This is a distraction?"
I motioned to the bodies--now I'd rolled atop the Commander. "Of course!" I insisted.
She pursed her plump lips. "I think it's a blessing."
"That's why you're not the President," I grumbled. "I must put aside all my own personal feelings and needs for the people--"
"Presidents shouldn't be cowards either," she pointed out.
I turned to argue.
"Madam President."
"...anything that impedes that understanding..."
"Madam President."
"I have to consider..."
"Laura?"
I finally realized I was in another place; dim, lying on a hard surface. I struggled upright.
"Laura?" That voice kept saying my name.
I fumbled for my glasses and put them on. A blonde woman stood across the room.
"Hello," I said.
"Hi," she replied with a nervous smile. "Are you all right?"
When I stood, I nearly lost my balance, and grabbed the closest thing for support. It was a cot.
"I just came down to see if there was anything I could do for you," the woman said. "Anything I could get you?"
Down...Down where? Nothing looked familiar to me. I stumbled to the bars...There were bars keeping us apart. I said, "I would like to have a conversation with my attorney," with no idea why I said it. "Could you arrange that?"
The woman seemed to find it as odd as I did. She snickered as she replied. "Yeah, sure, right."
I could only smile back painfully. My skull beginning to compress down on my brain.
"Laura, do you know where you are?"
"I'm in jail," I said, still not understanding what I was saying. I wanted to be back in the Commander's quarters, on the couch with him, away from this woman's sharp tones and the cold steel room I was in.
"What's my name?" she asked.
Impatient, I asked her, "Have we met?" Another agonizing pain shot through my head, reverberating like a great bell's toll. "I'm--I'm sorry. Excuse me."
I had to sit down, pushing at my ears for comfort. "It's just the ringing. Excuse me."
I heard her say, "The ringing?" faintly in the distance as I sank to the cot. Then, "Right. Okay, then. Take care."
Mercifully, she was leaving.
As quickly as it had come on, the pain ceased and I could think clearly. "Oh my Gods. Ellen Tigh," I said, pushing up from the cot, but it was too late. She was gone.
~*~
Once I had chamalla again, clarity returned. The visions had all just been the withdrawal. And I had much more to think about than unsettling dreams--escaping the brig and Galactica, finding shelter in a nest of all too real vipers. Thankfully, Elosha was with me.
Tom Zarek showed us to our safehouse aboard a meat packing vessel, with a small compartment for the priestess and I to share. First thing, I sat with Elosha and prayed over her beloved set of scrolls. It felt good; it felt very good.
"What did you pray for?" I asked her when we finished and the candles were extinguished.
She chuckled as she secured the scrolls in their velvet cover. "What did I pray for? Our safe deliverance to Kobol, of course."
"Of course," I said, uncomfortable.
"What did you expect me to say?" she asked, her dark eyes bright with curiosity.
I shrugged. "Nothin'." An itching started on my chest, running down between my breasts and over my belly. I didn't dare scratch.
She sat for a very long time, watching me, until my hands began to writhe in my lap.
"Or should I say, who did you expect me to say?"
"No," I said firmly, ignoring the growing pain on my chest. "There isn't time for that. We must think of saving humanity."
This Elosha did not argue with me. She only raised her eyebrows, looking truly surprised for the first time since I'd met her.
"I should get some rest," I said, unbuttoning my coat.
"Of course," she said, rising. "I'll give you some privacy. There's several others who wished to pray with me as well."
"Yes, yes," I said, wanting her to leave now.
Once the hatch closed behind her, I undid my shirt. Looking down, I expected to see a long red scar on my chest. There was nothing there.
Sinking to the cot, I slowly rebuttoned my shirt. No matter. There was still an unfamiliar weight on my heart that would remain with me until my death.
The end~
Author: bugs
Genre: Drama, Angst, Romance
Rating: T
Word Count: 1,400
Setting: Fragged and Resistance
Summary: Chamalla withdrawal can be a bitch.
A/N: Written for about_time's first writing prompt 'about time.' If you haven't checked out this comm, I highly recommend it! (As one of the mods, I can attest that it totally rocks. All Adama/Roslin, all the time!)
~*~
I entered the silent and dim sickbay and approached the bed where Commander Adama lay. His chest rose and fell, powered by the respirator. The breathing tube dragged down the corner of his mouth, giving him a pained grimace.
A woman stood by his bed, murmuring low prayers.
"Elosha."
She looked up. "Madam President," she said conversationally.
"What are you doing here?" I asked, feeling as though she was somehow invading my place.
"He needs my prayers."
"He's not a believer," I insisted, still upset.
"He needs me none the less." She laid her hands on his bandaged chest, and the bloodstained white cotton disappeared, revealing angry red marks across his thick torso.
Before I could ask how that happened, the scars distorted and twined together. One head, then another, rose to stare up at me.
"Elosha..."
"Yes, Madam President?"
I was barely able to speak. "Is the Commander the dying leader?"
She only laughed and the room slowly collapsed in, smothering me like a heavy blanket. As the darkness descended, I managed to find the Commander's hand and hold it tightly before all was gone.
I walked through the Galactica's corridors. For once, no crewmembers bustled by, no alarms rang out nor announcements droned down from the speakers. I wasn't sure where I was going until I found myself before a hatch marked Commander. Yes, I wanted to see if Commander Adama was all right.
I rapped but there was no answer.
Pushing the hatch open, I entered his dim quarters. I roamed the space which was becoming more familiar with each visit. My fingers traced the books in the shelves. I slipped off my shoes to run my toes through the lush carpets. I glanced at the open logbook; the pages were blank.
The rack was empty.
Unsure where to search next, I sank into the plush couch. Exhaustion overcame me and I closed my eyes.
I don't know how long I napped but a wide palm cradled my jaw, guiding my head to meet lips, warm and soft as they traced my cheekbone down to the corner of my mouth. I still didn't open my eyes. After decades of brisk, efficient sexual release, this gentle intimacy unsettled me; I didn't know how to respond. It was an extravagance to allow these hands and lips to slide over my limbs, pushing away my shirt, his mouth latching onto my shoulder.
My bra disappeared like his bandages had.
The supple leather moaned beneath us. I dared to open my eyes but the darkness was back. There were only shadows, forming and reforming; a thickly muscled upper arm that I grabbed for support like a tree branch; a bristled jawline, tilting to access my bared neck; the shoulders hunched under my frantic hands.
My tension, like a rich chocolate melting on my tongue, softened and flowed. Relaxed at last, my hands stroked over his chest--the angry red seam was open. My fingers sank into the heat and moisture until I found his heart. I cradled it, reassured by the even, slow beat.
My breathing slowed to match its rhythm. It was mine...It was mine.
I stood in the hatchway and watched the two bodies twined on the couch, unable to catch their low murmurings, like the faint cooing of doves in trees high above.
"You know what this means, don't you?" said Elosha beside me.
"No."
"You don't?"
"No, I don't want to."
She sighed with exasperation.
"There's too much work to do, Elosha."
"Yes," she agreed.
"I cannot be distracted."
"This is a distraction?"
I motioned to the bodies--now I'd rolled atop the Commander. "Of course!" I insisted.
She pursed her plump lips. "I think it's a blessing."
"That's why you're not the President," I grumbled. "I must put aside all my own personal feelings and needs for the people--"
"Presidents shouldn't be cowards either," she pointed out.
I turned to argue.
"Madam President."
"...anything that impedes that understanding..."
"Madam President."
"I have to consider..."
"Laura?"
I finally realized I was in another place; dim, lying on a hard surface. I struggled upright.
"Laura?" That voice kept saying my name.
I fumbled for my glasses and put them on. A blonde woman stood across the room.
"Hello," I said.
"Hi," she replied with a nervous smile. "Are you all right?"
When I stood, I nearly lost my balance, and grabbed the closest thing for support. It was a cot.
"I just came down to see if there was anything I could do for you," the woman said. "Anything I could get you?"
Down...Down where? Nothing looked familiar to me. I stumbled to the bars...There were bars keeping us apart. I said, "I would like to have a conversation with my attorney," with no idea why I said it. "Could you arrange that?"
The woman seemed to find it as odd as I did. She snickered as she replied. "Yeah, sure, right."
I could only smile back painfully. My skull beginning to compress down on my brain.
"Laura, do you know where you are?"
"I'm in jail," I said, still not understanding what I was saying. I wanted to be back in the Commander's quarters, on the couch with him, away from this woman's sharp tones and the cold steel room I was in.
"What's my name?" she asked.
Impatient, I asked her, "Have we met?" Another agonizing pain shot through my head, reverberating like a great bell's toll. "I'm--I'm sorry. Excuse me."
I had to sit down, pushing at my ears for comfort. "It's just the ringing. Excuse me."
I heard her say, "The ringing?" faintly in the distance as I sank to the cot. Then, "Right. Okay, then. Take care."
Mercifully, she was leaving.
As quickly as it had come on, the pain ceased and I could think clearly. "Oh my Gods. Ellen Tigh," I said, pushing up from the cot, but it was too late. She was gone.
~*~
Once I had chamalla again, clarity returned. The visions had all just been the withdrawal. And I had much more to think about than unsettling dreams--escaping the brig and Galactica, finding shelter in a nest of all too real vipers. Thankfully, Elosha was with me.
Tom Zarek showed us to our safehouse aboard a meat packing vessel, with a small compartment for the priestess and I to share. First thing, I sat with Elosha and prayed over her beloved set of scrolls. It felt good; it felt very good.
"What did you pray for?" I asked her when we finished and the candles were extinguished.
She chuckled as she secured the scrolls in their velvet cover. "What did I pray for? Our safe deliverance to Kobol, of course."
"Of course," I said, uncomfortable.
"What did you expect me to say?" she asked, her dark eyes bright with curiosity.
I shrugged. "Nothin'." An itching started on my chest, running down between my breasts and over my belly. I didn't dare scratch.
She sat for a very long time, watching me, until my hands began to writhe in my lap.
"Or should I say, who did you expect me to say?"
"No," I said firmly, ignoring the growing pain on my chest. "There isn't time for that. We must think of saving humanity."
This Elosha did not argue with me. She only raised her eyebrows, looking truly surprised for the first time since I'd met her.
"I should get some rest," I said, unbuttoning my coat.
"Of course," she said, rising. "I'll give you some privacy. There's several others who wished to pray with me as well."
"Yes, yes," I said, wanting her to leave now.
Once the hatch closed behind her, I undid my shirt. Looking down, I expected to see a long red scar on my chest. There was nothing there.
Sinking to the cot, I slowly rebuttoned my shirt. No matter. There was still an unfamiliar weight on my heart that would remain with me until my death.
The end~