"Love's Sacrament" - Adama/Roslin Drabble
Title: Love's Sacrament
Pairing: Adama/Roslin
Rating: T
Word Count: 200 words
Disclaimer: Not my characters or television show.
A/N: Written for the "ways to say I love you" challenge at ar_drabbles. Thank you to redrockcan for her beta.
Laura Roslin once swore to herself that she would die a dignified death.
That was before she met Bill Adama. Before he swept her off of her feet and refused to let her go. Before he ripped down the walls around her heart with his bare hands and jump-started the long dormant organ.
She had wanted to die beautiful; whole and still looking like herself. She’ll die bald, pale, and malnourished; a walking corpse waiting to be put back into its grave.
She refuses to say the words; she shouldn’t need to. He should see them, feel them, taste them.
drip. drip. drop.
The doloxin invades her veins. Bill sits beside her, as always, blissfully unaware of the pain that is wracking her body. He loves her and she knows it. Sometimes she wonders, if he knew how much this hurt, would he be so insistent that she fight her cancer?
drip. drip. drop.
She won’t say the words. They’re unnecessary. He should hear them in the syllables of each drip. drip. drop. of the dolixin. He should see them in the shadows that form crescent moons under her eyes.
He made her break her promise.
She let him do it.
Pairing: Adama/Roslin
Rating: T
Word Count: 200 words
Disclaimer: Not my characters or television show.
A/N: Written for the "ways to say I love you" challenge at ar_drabbles. Thank you to redrockcan for her beta.
Laura Roslin once swore to herself that she would die a dignified death.
That was before she met Bill Adama. Before he swept her off of her feet and refused to let her go. Before he ripped down the walls around her heart with his bare hands and jump-started the long dormant organ.
She had wanted to die beautiful; whole and still looking like herself. She’ll die bald, pale, and malnourished; a walking corpse waiting to be put back into its grave.
She refuses to say the words; she shouldn’t need to. He should see them, feel them, taste them.
drip. drip. drop.
The doloxin invades her veins. Bill sits beside her, as always, blissfully unaware of the pain that is wracking her body. He loves her and she knows it. Sometimes she wonders, if he knew how much this hurt, would he be so insistent that she fight her cancer?
drip. drip. drop.
She won’t say the words. They’re unnecessary. He should hear them in the syllables of each drip. drip. drop. of the dolixin. He should see them in the shadows that form crescent moons under her eyes.
He made her break her promise.
She let him do it.