Make The Earth Stand Impossibly Still - Roslin/Zarek fic
Title: Make The Earth Stand Impossibly Still
Pairing(s): Roslin/Zarek
Rating: T
Spoilers: First half of Season 3, though I’m not sure that those episodes even qualify as spoilers anymore.
A/N: Written for makelaurahappy, challenge #6. The challenge was that Laura was to be made happy by not being dead. Congrats to all the winners! There were some really awesome fics submitted.
Following closely upon Laura’s immediate reactions of joy and relief upon realizing that the firing squad would not be ripping her to shreds was confusion, and more than a little trepidation at whatever horrors would undoubtedly be next. Adama had returned, but she and Zarek were still in handcuffs and it was a long way back to her ship. When she did take back her ship (and her desk, and all the things she’d selfishly and desperately laid claim to as her world came crashing down for the first time) there was only vindication and the chance to let out the breath she’d been holding since she first gave up the presidency.
Mere days, though it seemed like weeks, passed and she came to an understanding with Zarek. Soon, everything would be put right and she could begin to undo all the damage Baltar and his so-called administration had caused. With every step closer towards righting the list of wrongs she kept engraved on her heart, Laura’s anger grew. It simmered under the surface and blended with resentment to give her waking hours a sour taste, and her nights a sharp flavor of hatred towards the one man who provided a handy vessel for all the ugly feelings she held inside. But Baltar was gone, dead or hiding somewhere in the fleet, and Laura had no choice but to sit with her anger.
There was some guilt too. She had thought survivor’s guilt would be the last thing she would feel, especially after living through a holocaust and the gods knew how many other dangers. Yet it was there. Never mind that there was some real culpability to be shared for all those who died fighting for the resistance.
She tried not to think of the guilt.
She tried not to feel anything.
Most days, that was an impossible task.
“Laura?” She was not expecting him. The sound of his voice startled her, a steaming cup of precious tea was knocked to the floor as her hand jerked with surprise.
The string of expletives Laura uttered under her breath was entirely out of proportion to the damage caused by the tea.
“Was there something you needed?” she snapped, accepting the towel he brought her from the head and attempting to soak up the dampness from the carpet.
“Would you hit me if I said you?” Tom Zarek’s voice was serious, but his eyes laughed.
“Yes.”
“Then I’ll save that for another time.”
“Please do.”
Tom smiled at her, his face crinkling in a way she had found impossibly endearing for a brief time on New Caprica. Presently, she wanted to make that smile disappear by any means possible, including wiping it away with the back of her hand. It was too much to have him so close, his warm eyes fixed on her.
“I’m serious Tom,” she told him. “What do you want?”
He sighed and looked away.
“Frak, Laura,” he muttered. “Why are you so gods-damned prickly?”
“Prickly?” She scoffed. “Because I won’t fall into your bed? That makes me prickly?”
“No, that’s not what I mean,” he answered, stung. “These past few weeks, you haven’t let anyone get within ten feet of you. You won’t even allow a genuine conversation. It’s all politics-”
“As it should be,” she interjected.
“No, not as it should be!” he snapped, his composure beginning to crack at last, just as she wanted. “You’re allowed to be human too. What happened to that vibrant, happy woman from New Caprica?”
“She spent far too many nights on the cold floor of a prison cell and watched her people suffer and die at the hands of cylons and traitors.”
“But you’re still here Laura,” he told her. “You made it out alive. And it was you who told me that we can only respect the sacrifices of those who died by continuing to live. You’re here today Laura, but you’re not living.”
“I’m living for my people, Tom.”
“Who’s living for you?”
Laura said nothing, but marched to the head where she threw the tea soaked towel into the sink. She remained there a few moments glaring at her own reflection before returning to stand in front of the man she was seriously considering putting out an airlock.
“Okay,” she told him, crossing her arms in front of her chest and staring at him defiantly.
“Okay, what?”
“You’re going to be the one to live for me, or rather, remind me to live.”
“That’s a pretty tall order.”
“You don’t want it?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“Well?” She stepped closer and took hold of the labels on his suit jacket, pulling his face within inches of hers.
“What’s your answer?”
His eyes caressed her face and she waited.
“No.”
His abrupt negative caught her off guard.
“No?”
He shook his head and stepped back.
“I want you, Laura. Not a shell I have to force feed emotions to. You have to meet me halfway.”
Laura bit her lip and blinked to hold back the hot tears that sprang up. Damn him for demanding more than she felt capable of giving.
“I can’t,” she said at last, her voice softly. She sniffed and shrugged, meeting his eyes with an apologetic smile.
“I just can’t right now. There are still nights when I think it would be easier if I hadn’t survived the firing squad.”
Tom regarded her with sad eyes, but he stepped forward and pressed his lips to her forehead.
“Okay,” he said at last. “But I’ll be waiting if you change your mind.”
Laura swallowed and nodded.
“Thank you, Tom.”
He stuck his hands in his pockets and smiled at her for a brief moment more before turning and leaving. Just as he reached the door he turned back.
“And just so you know, I’m glad you survived,” he told her, and she smiled. “Mainly because you saved my ass…”
This earned him an honest laugh and he winked back at her as he left.
A smile lingered at the corners of Laura’ mouth as she prepared for another night on the makeshift bed she used on Colonial One. As she settled herself under the covers, she permitted her thoughts to wander back to her day on New Caprica.
Usually when she thought of those final hours, she remembered the fear on the faces of those around her and the sounds of the battle being fought for their freedom. But as she lay in bed with the memory of Tom’s smile and the press of his lips against her skin fresh in her mind, Laura went back to the one point of light in the hours of terror from that day. The moment when she was not dead, but rather dirty and bruised on the hard, unforgiving New Caprican ground with Tom’s hand in hers as they struggled to their feet. The earth stood still for a single, precious moment as she realized that they might actually escape from that hell and that there was still a reasonable chance for happiness and laughter and love, and all those things that make life worth living. In that moment, she was happy to be alive.
That moment was over and gone in the time that it took for her to stand up and run to her ship, but as Laura relived it, she felt a small flicker of what felt like hope rise up in her chest. Perhaps soon she would feel that same happiness again.
With that thought to ease the burdens weighing on her heart, Laura slept.
Pairing(s): Roslin/Zarek
Rating: T
Spoilers: First half of Season 3, though I’m not sure that those episodes even qualify as spoilers anymore.
A/N: Written for makelaurahappy, challenge #6. The challenge was that Laura was to be made happy by not being dead. Congrats to all the winners! There were some really awesome fics submitted.
Following closely upon Laura’s immediate reactions of joy and relief upon realizing that the firing squad would not be ripping her to shreds was confusion, and more than a little trepidation at whatever horrors would undoubtedly be next. Adama had returned, but she and Zarek were still in handcuffs and it was a long way back to her ship. When she did take back her ship (and her desk, and all the things she’d selfishly and desperately laid claim to as her world came crashing down for the first time) there was only vindication and the chance to let out the breath she’d been holding since she first gave up the presidency.
Mere days, though it seemed like weeks, passed and she came to an understanding with Zarek. Soon, everything would be put right and she could begin to undo all the damage Baltar and his so-called administration had caused. With every step closer towards righting the list of wrongs she kept engraved on her heart, Laura’s anger grew. It simmered under the surface and blended with resentment to give her waking hours a sour taste, and her nights a sharp flavor of hatred towards the one man who provided a handy vessel for all the ugly feelings she held inside. But Baltar was gone, dead or hiding somewhere in the fleet, and Laura had no choice but to sit with her anger.
There was some guilt too. She had thought survivor’s guilt would be the last thing she would feel, especially after living through a holocaust and the gods knew how many other dangers. Yet it was there. Never mind that there was some real culpability to be shared for all those who died fighting for the resistance.
She tried not to think of the guilt.
She tried not to feel anything.
Most days, that was an impossible task.
“Laura?” She was not expecting him. The sound of his voice startled her, a steaming cup of precious tea was knocked to the floor as her hand jerked with surprise.
The string of expletives Laura uttered under her breath was entirely out of proportion to the damage caused by the tea.
“Was there something you needed?” she snapped, accepting the towel he brought her from the head and attempting to soak up the dampness from the carpet.
“Would you hit me if I said you?” Tom Zarek’s voice was serious, but his eyes laughed.
“Yes.”
“Then I’ll save that for another time.”
“Please do.”
Tom smiled at her, his face crinkling in a way she had found impossibly endearing for a brief time on New Caprica. Presently, she wanted to make that smile disappear by any means possible, including wiping it away with the back of her hand. It was too much to have him so close, his warm eyes fixed on her.
“I’m serious Tom,” she told him. “What do you want?”
He sighed and looked away.
“Frak, Laura,” he muttered. “Why are you so gods-damned prickly?”
“Prickly?” She scoffed. “Because I won’t fall into your bed? That makes me prickly?”
“No, that’s not what I mean,” he answered, stung. “These past few weeks, you haven’t let anyone get within ten feet of you. You won’t even allow a genuine conversation. It’s all politics-”
“As it should be,” she interjected.
“No, not as it should be!” he snapped, his composure beginning to crack at last, just as she wanted. “You’re allowed to be human too. What happened to that vibrant, happy woman from New Caprica?”
“She spent far too many nights on the cold floor of a prison cell and watched her people suffer and die at the hands of cylons and traitors.”
“But you’re still here Laura,” he told her. “You made it out alive. And it was you who told me that we can only respect the sacrifices of those who died by continuing to live. You’re here today Laura, but you’re not living.”
“I’m living for my people, Tom.”
“Who’s living for you?”
Laura said nothing, but marched to the head where she threw the tea soaked towel into the sink. She remained there a few moments glaring at her own reflection before returning to stand in front of the man she was seriously considering putting out an airlock.
“Okay,” she told him, crossing her arms in front of her chest and staring at him defiantly.
“Okay, what?”
“You’re going to be the one to live for me, or rather, remind me to live.”
“That’s a pretty tall order.”
“You don’t want it?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“Well?” She stepped closer and took hold of the labels on his suit jacket, pulling his face within inches of hers.
“What’s your answer?”
His eyes caressed her face and she waited.
“No.”
His abrupt negative caught her off guard.
“No?”
He shook his head and stepped back.
“I want you, Laura. Not a shell I have to force feed emotions to. You have to meet me halfway.”
Laura bit her lip and blinked to hold back the hot tears that sprang up. Damn him for demanding more than she felt capable of giving.
“I can’t,” she said at last, her voice softly. She sniffed and shrugged, meeting his eyes with an apologetic smile.
“I just can’t right now. There are still nights when I think it would be easier if I hadn’t survived the firing squad.”
Tom regarded her with sad eyes, but he stepped forward and pressed his lips to her forehead.
“Okay,” he said at last. “But I’ll be waiting if you change your mind.”
Laura swallowed and nodded.
“Thank you, Tom.”
He stuck his hands in his pockets and smiled at her for a brief moment more before turning and leaving. Just as he reached the door he turned back.
“And just so you know, I’m glad you survived,” he told her, and she smiled. “Mainly because you saved my ass…”
This earned him an honest laugh and he winked back at her as he left.
A smile lingered at the corners of Laura’ mouth as she prepared for another night on the makeshift bed she used on Colonial One. As she settled herself under the covers, she permitted her thoughts to wander back to her day on New Caprica.
Usually when she thought of those final hours, she remembered the fear on the faces of those around her and the sounds of the battle being fought for their freedom. But as she lay in bed with the memory of Tom’s smile and the press of his lips against her skin fresh in her mind, Laura went back to the one point of light in the hours of terror from that day. The moment when she was not dead, but rather dirty and bruised on the hard, unforgiving New Caprican ground with Tom’s hand in hers as they struggled to their feet. The earth stood still for a single, precious moment as she realized that they might actually escape from that hell and that there was still a reasonable chance for happiness and laughter and love, and all those things that make life worth living. In that moment, she was happy to be alive.
That moment was over and gone in the time that it took for her to stand up and run to her ship, but as Laura relived it, she felt a small flicker of what felt like hope rise up in her chest. Perhaps soon she would feel that same happiness again.
With that thought to ease the burdens weighing on her heart, Laura slept.