A Lie I've Told A Thousand Times
Title: A Lie I've Told A Thousand Times
Author: gidget_zb
Beta: The Always Fabulous alias424
Rating: NC-17 (it'll earn it soon enough)
Warnings: A/U, pre-series, may contain some torture
Summary: Laura is kidnapped, Bill's coming to the rescuse.... sort of.
A/N: My Seekrit Santa assignment. I got mscrwth who asked for:
"A fanfic where Laura gets kidnapped & it's Bill to the rescue, only Laura's no damsel in distress and Bill's no knight in shining armor."
Okay, so my cracked out brain had a brilliant idea to do this pre-series, and A/U, I hope that's okay. Also, this is part one of what will probably be aout four parts - I really wanted to finish it fully in time, but I got bronchitis for Christmas, and knew I had to post this incomplete or not at all, and I wasn't willing to give the prompt up - because I flove it lol. So I apologize, but I will get the rest up as fast as I can in the new year! So for the purposes of my A/U - Laura works for Adar, but is NOT sleeping with him, Bill didn't leave the Fleet after the first war, but remained in service - and never met Carolanne. Tragic, I know, lol.
A Lie I've Told A Thousand Times
Smell was first.
She breathed in wave after wave of too-dry air that seemed to stick to the walls of her fly-paper mouth, attaching the scent of sweat and blood and fear there like a helpless fly - it twitched and rolled through her mouth, struggling to be free, and she could do nothing - not swallow it or spit it out - in order to help the process along.
Her tongue tried to pull itself up from the bottom of her mouth, and she groaned, feeling more than seeing the harsh overhead lights that were currently attempting to burn their afterimage into her retinas. She needed a drink.
Maybe five - the first one could be water, and the next four could be whatever the frak would dull the pounding in her head and wet her mouth.
It took her all this time between waking and really waking to understand. She didn’t know where she was - or how the frak she had gotten there. Perversely her eyes squeezed more tightly shut at this ricocheting thought - it bounced around her skull like hot shrapnel, begging her to open her eyes - assess the situation so she could formulate a plan. After all, that was what she did. Assess and formulate a plan. It wasn’t all she did - but it was a big part of it. Bigger than she had ever expected years ago anyway.
Her head hurt - hell, her skull, skin, hair follicles and frakking brain matter hurt. Had she been drinking? She wasn’t a heavy drinker normally - but it was hardly normal to find yourself suddenly facing a career path you had never planned while combating the advances of your highly influential, highly married boss and mourning the recent death of your mother. At least, she hoped that was hardly normal. What was the last thing she remembered?
Right. The political conference on Tauron. The Quorum members had been meeting all week to discuss economic plans, and naturally Richard was there as Caprica’s representative. And as Richard took great delight in pointing out - where he went, she went. How in the hell she had somehow gone from schoolteacher to political aide, consultant and campaign manager, she had no idea. It had all gone by so fast - her mother’s increasing illness and Laura’s own desperation to be someone - anyone - but her mother.
Oh frak. What if she had gotten drunk and did something horrendously, stupidly, frakking fraktastically idiotic? She remembered yesterday’s meetings. And dinner - which she had sat through, pointedly shoving Richard’s hand off her thigh and giving him repeated glares he was too drunk to notice. She had only had one glass of wine with her meal - she remembered excusing herself with a grateful sigh, she remembered the elevator, and the realization that she had left her computer in the rental - and going to the parking garage and then -
Nothing.
She sucked in a harsh breath that closed her throat over - and coughed ungraciously as her eyes slowly peeled open, inch by inch.
Frak.
She stared around herself with a frown and a sense of dread gnawing away at the pain and nausea that was now curled into a tightly compressed ball and shoved somewhere under her ribs.
She’d rather wake up next to Adar.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
“Good afternoon, Major. Have a seat.”
He obeyed the order automatically - but Bill didn’t want to sit. He couldn’t very well stand either though - the Admiral in front of him would hardly find it amusing. It wasn’t like he wasn’t expecting this - a lot of the jocks he had flown with at the end of the war had written or called or stopped by - each with the same damn story. Fleet was downsizing now that there wasn’t an enemy to fight anymore - and hadn’t been for over a decade. Each time Bill heard the same damn thing - after all this time - I frakking shot down dozens of toasters and this is what those frakkers hand me? Honourable discharge. What the frak is honourable about it? What are we supposed to do now, Bill?
Bill just poured them another drink - what the frak did he know about it? Being a pilot was the only thing he knew how to do. He didn’t have any other skills - none of them did. The discharges had started a few years ago - trickling slowly by - so slow you almost wouldn’t notice the massive downsizing that was being accomplished. Almost. He had been stupid of course - thought he had gotten away scot-free. Until suddenly he had been relieved from the Atlantia and sent back to HQ. For a briefing. With an Admiral.
Definitely not a good sign.
“Major Adama?”
Bill started - realizing the Admiral had been explaining something the whole time - but Bill was frakked if he knew what it was. “Sorry, sir.”
“As I was saying - this mission requires a delicate hand. The soldier assigned must be discreet - trustworthy. Fleet through and through. There’s a high chance you may not come back from this one, Bill.”
An assignment? He was here for a frakking assignment. Oh thank the- well, thank frak. Bill released the breath he had been unconsciously holding and nodded his head at the Admiral’s words.
“Of course, sir. I can carry out the orders.”
“Without even knowing what they are, Major?”
“Yes, sir.”
There was no other answer - no other acceptable answer for a Major to give the Admiral of the Fleet. Bill’s hands were folded in his lap but his knuckles were white at the thought of any mission that could come with the ‘one-way ticket’ speech. The Cylons were gone. What the frak else could there be?
“We need you to go to Tauron. An... insurgent group there has captured and detained a government employee. Normally - we wouldn’t deal with this sort of thing - but do you follow politics at all, Major?”
Bill shrugged, not really following the segue. “I voted, sir. But I don’t really follow the nitty-gritty details.”
“Well, if you did, you’d know that the Caprican delegate, Richard Adar - is on the fast track to becoming our next President. We think the group meant to get him - instead they got his aide, Laura Roslin.” The Admiral spoke thoughtfully as he slid a slim file across his desk toward Bill. Bill lifted it, but made no move to open it. Instead he gripped it tightly, placing his hands back in his lap.
“All due respect sir - but you’re sending me out to rescue an aide?” Bill’s tone was disbelieving, and the Admiral shook his head with a smile.
“No. We’re sending you out to look like you’re on an S&R. What we need is for you to get captured. We need someone inside this insurgency, Major. Someone smart - who won’t get himself killed or worse, start singing like a jail bird. This group is an unknown - we don’t understand what they’re after, or who’s running it - what we do know is that no one can penetrate them. They have some way of knowing exactly who we’re attempting to use as a plant. Since we can’t infiltrate through the back door - we may as well try the front. See what a prisoner learns.” The Admiral leaned forward, gazing solemnly at Bill.
“Up until now, we’ve had no way of getting a military prisoner in there believably. However, it’s not too much of a stretch to think that Adar would pull strings for this woman. She’s been with him since he was mayor - I want you to fully understand, Major - there is no guarantee of you emerging alive. But it is vital that we get intelligence on this unit, do you understand?”
“Yes, sir. When do I leave?”
“We can give you 24 hours to say goodbye to any family and -”
“No need, sir. I’m single, and my father and I - well - I won’t need those 24 hours. I can pack and be ready within the hour, sir.”
“Very well, Major. All your ordinances are in that file - go pack, read it, and then destroy it.” The Admiral stood and Bill rose automatically to meet him, snapping a salute before he had even fully straightened. The Fleet Admiral returned it sharply. He reached a hand out, gripping Bill’s tightly for a moment. “Good luck, son.”
“Thank you, sir.” Bill nodded before exiting swiftly. There was no point in wasting time on small talk. He had a mission to complete - for a moment he thought of what this actually meant for him. Willing capture - being a prisoner. He shook his head to clear the thoughts away, his grip on the file tightening in small increments - by the time he reached his room at HQ there were several permanent creases in the brown manila.
His bags weren’t even unpacked - so he had precious little to do in that regard. A mere ten minutes found his bags stacked by the door, and Bill found himself seated at the tiny table, staring at the closed file. He opened it quickly, scanning and memorizing the details within - orders, emergency procedures - several ongoing theories as to who the insurgents were being backed by - some more blood chilling than others, but they were all abstract theories at this point. At the back of the file - almost as an afterthought, a single piece of paper had been shoved in.
Laura Roslin.
He stared at the piece of paper for a moment - the grainy black and white photo - obviously some shot for identification purposes. It listed her DOB, her Civilian ID number, her age - height, weight. It listed her family - all deceased - and her job history. But it was all bare bones, and Bill found himself ignoring it all as he stared at the woman’s face in the photo. She looked... implacable. Unruffled. Completely calm. There was something almost soothing about it - her eyes, maybe - or the smooth planes of her face - something about her caused him to sit there for almost four minutes - staring and wondering who the hell this woman really was.
With any luck, he’d find out soon enough.
He reached in his pocket, feeling past his smokes for his old lighter - before flicking it and watching the paper curl up into ash and white smoke.
And if he kept Roslin’s ‘file,’ well that was his own business. No one would care anyway - there was nothing classified about it. It would probably make his cover story look good actually -
Yeah.
He folded it once, twice and once more before slipping it into his pocket beside his lighter. With a swift glance to ensure he hadn’t forgotten anything, Bill grabbed the bag by the door, and quickly stepped through it.
He’d find out soon enough.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
It was frakking annoying really - she tried as hard as she could to not think about how hungry she was, or how thirsty, but as soon as she did, her insides would ache for food and water. She had yelled at first - yelled and yelled and screamed until her throat was raw and she felt like she had swallowed sand.
No one came.
Then she had paced and paced and paced - searched the room frontwards and back, but other than the four depressingly grey concrete walls and the ceiling and floor made of the same, there was only the small metal cot and the toilet that stood in the far corner of the room - and she supposed she should be grateful those were there at all.
Still no one came.
She slept, and woke and paced and curled up next to the wall. Then slept and shouted and banged on the heavy metal door when her voice failed her, banged and banged until her wrists ached and she couldn’t even stand up in front of it anymore.
No one came.
She pressed her back against the concrete - because it was uncomfortable and painful - cold but oh so real. She didn’t know how much time had passed. How long she had been missing - how long she had been sleeping and how long she had stayed awake.
No one would come.
And she would die alone.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Getting found was the easy part.
Show up at the hotel, question everyone and their dog - make a big show of finding Laura Roslin. Bill had spent hours asking people what they knew about this women, and everyone’s answers were different but the same. No one knew her - not really. They worked with her, or for her, or were acquainted with her. But no one said, ‘I know Laura Roslin.’ Maybe no one did.
But Bill kept asking because he needed to be noticed. He had a tail by the end of the first day. The second day was spent in the parking garage where she had last been seen. Studying the scene - trying to find something, anything that would lead him to a location. He needed a location so he could go and get caught.
He was checking the scene one last time when he heard the running steps behind him. Instinct screamed to turn - fight followed by flight, but Bill quelled them and braced himself for the pain. One swift blow to the head, and Bill staggered under the force of it, swaying as the cement floor rushed toward him.
Getting caught was surprisingly easy too, he thought as he felt the cold floor against the back of his head.
And when did the hard part start?
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
The noise woke her, screeching metal and scuffled footsteps. Two men burst into the cell with weapons trained on her. She didn’t move - frozen in place by animal instinct.
“Don’t move.” His voice was cold - and she couldn’t see any of their faces - but she could see his cold eyes through the mask. “Bring him in,” he snapped to the other man, who disappeared briefly before reappearing and dragging another man through the door. Once past the threshold, he dropped his burden in a heap before exiting again and returning with a tray, which was dropped next to the door.
“Food. Water. Cooperate and you’ll get it once a day. If you don’t....” The man holding the gun shrugged before backing toward the door.
“Cooperate with what? And who is - ” Laura found her voice suddenly, but the only answer she got was the screech of rusted hinges as the door was swung shut and bolted. She remained on the cot for a moment, eyeing the two new drop-offs warily. Hunger won out over concern though - really, if that man was injured there was nothing she could do - and he was unconscious to boot, so he wouldn’t know to get offended. She quickly made her way across the floor, grabbing the water cup and drinking a third of it on one gulp. She paused, before sipping more slowly as she divided the food on the plate in half. She would have to share - she wasn’t that cruel, at least. She finished quickly, praying the entire time that it was not poisoned - otherwise she’d be frakked.
However, she’d rather die from poison than starvation.
Once she was finished she crawled across the floor to the man who was still sprawled there. He wasn’t very big - maybe only an inch or two taller than she was, but he was solid, and when she tried to move him over to the bed, he wouldn’t budge.
“Frak.” She glanced around before shrugging and grabbing the blanket from the cot and wrapping it over him after she had settled him flat on his back. He didn’t look too bad - there was some dried blood by his neck, and when she moved him, she felt the wound in the back of his skull - but there were no other signs of damage. “They must have hit you hard,” she whispered - he couldn’t hear her, but it was nice to have the knowledge that she wasn’t talking to herself anymore.
She settled beside him, watching as he slept, studying him intently. His skin was darker than hers - almost golden, and his hair was cropped short and a dark brown. She couldn’t see his eyes, but his face was as broad as the rest of him - strong jaw and wide cheekbones. The most interesting thing about him, of course, was his uniform. He was military - all gold buttons and soft blue fabric. There were wings pinned over his shoulder - and she knew that meant he was a pilot - but it didn’t explain who he was or what he was doing here.
She couldn’t see his name anywhere on his uniform - but she had seen enough soldiers on the wireless to know that she wouldn’t find it. Something about safety precautions during the war. But that had been years ago now. She did recall though, that he should have tags of some sort - had their captors removed them?
She reached for his neck, but her hands hesitated there - hovering uncertainly. She could just wait until he woke. She could just - but her fingers were already acting of their own accord and nimbly slipping buttons through holes until she had enough give to slip a hand down his neck until it snagged metal. She tugged gently at the ball chain and lifted the tags out from under the soft cotton tank he had on under his jacket.
The small tags gleamed softly in the light and she traced the Colonial symbol as she leaned closer to read. W. Adama. “W - hmmm? Wonder what that stands for?”
“Well, you could just stop stripping me and ask,” a gravelly voice rumbled out from the chest she was practically sprawled against, and she shot backwards, dropping the tags as if they burned. She looked up to see he was awake - and found herself staring into the bluest eyes she had ever seen. Her breath caught in her throat and she froze again - for entirely different reasons this time. There was no gun pointed at her, but still, she felt just as in danger.
After an awkward moment, she cleared her throat. “I was not stripping you,” she pointed out primly as she reached over and dragged the tray closer before sitting back on her heels. “How’s your head? Here’s some water.” She extended the glass out and he sat up gingerly, waiting a moment before he reached for it. His fingers brushed against hers as he took the plastic cup, and she shivered before folding her hands in her lap.
He sipped at the water slowly - clearly he had better restraint than she did - before he set it down on the floor next to him. He moved until his back was against the wall and she was kneeling in front of him, and he was quiet for a moment as he studied her. His scrutiny was intense, but she didn’t say anything as she figured she owed it to him to allow him the same opportunity she had had while he slept. “Your picture doesn’t do you justice,” he finally spoke again, and his voice was deep and slow as she frowned at him. “Laura Roslin, I presume?”
“How do you know that? Are you alone - are they looking for me?”
“The W stands for William - Major William Adama.” He held out a hand - and she reached forward to shake it, watching as it engulfed her own small hand. His palms were rough - but warm and dry and she crawled closer until her side was against the wall and she was facing him.
“William - I wish I could say it’s nice to meet you - ”
“Well, it’s hardly the best of circumstances. Did you see who brought me in?” He was watching her intently as he asked the question, and she nodded with a sigh.
“Two men, about five foot ten? They came in with guns - told me to stay put and then dragged you in. They were dressed all in black - and had um - ski masks on? I couldn’t see their faces. But they had grey eyes, I think.”
“They’re the only ones you’ve seen?”
“It’s the first time anyone has come in since I was brought here,” she spoke softly, pressing her shoulder into the hard concrete as she debated asking her next question. “What day is it? I mean - how long have I been here?”
“You were taken close to five days ago, Laura. Here -” He pulled the tray closer and pushed it over to her. “I ate yesterday. You need this more than I do.”
“Or you could just want to see if the food is tainted by giving it all to me.” She laughed slightly but picked the food up and ate quickly anyway.
“You already ate half, I could have just waited,” he pointed out with a sigh. “I was sent here as a favour to Adar from the Admiralty. I was working alone though - well, in conjunction with the Tauron police. I don’t know how long it will be before someone notices I’m missing too.”
“Godsdammit,” she sighed, pushing the now empty tray aside.
“We’ll be fine.” His voice was reassuring but she stiffened anyway.
“Yes, well thank you, Major - so nice to know that now that you’re here, everything will be fine.”
His chuckle echoed throughout the room, and when she glanced over at him he was smiling - his face lit up, and she drew in a breath and held it there. Oh my....
“William. Or Bill - my Mom used to call me Billy, but you can call me whatever you like. Just not Major. If you call me Major, I’ll feel like I have to call you Miss Roslin and that would make me feel like I’m in grade school again. Besides, I think Laura sounds much better, don’t you?” She stared at him as he spoke, her heart seemed to push against her ribs, harder and harder with each beat, and she wanted to answer hell yes, it sounds better, especially when you say it - but she bit her tongue and glanced down at the floor.
“Alright, Bill.” She voiced his name softly, and somehow it just fit around her tongue. “So what now? He said - earlier he said that if we cooperated, they’d keep feeding us.”
“Well, I don’t want to die - so I suppose for now, we cooperate. Find out whatever information we can and see if we can’t find a weakness in their plan.”
“Sounds like a plan.” She blinked heavily as she yawned and fell against his shoulder. “Sorry,” she mumbled.
“You should move to the bed.” His voice was soft by her ear, and his breath stirred the hair there as she sighed and snuggled in. “Laura?”
She felt his hands grasp her elbows, pulling and tugging at her until she stumbled up and tripped over to the cot. One she was lying down, he tucked the blanket around her again before stretching out on the floor beside the cot. That was stupid, she thought - he couldn’t stay on the old floor and freeze to death, and eventually they would have to share the bed anyway - or take turns, or something. But when she opened her mouth to say something, she couldn’t quite seem to muster up the energy. For anything.
The food was drugged, she thought fuzzily, and tried to warn Bill, but before she could speak she slipped into oblivion.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
She could smell fresh air as she woke up, and she felt the scratchy surface beneath her hands as she blinked and rolled over, pushing herself into a sitting position.
There were four of them now, all training their weapons on her as she sat, blinking painfully in the sunlight. “What am I - ” She was attempting to speak, but her mouth felt like fibreglass, and she could only choke helplessly.
“Run,” a voice to the left of her snapped, stepping closer as he pushed the muzzle of his pistol to her face so forcefully she saw starbursts lining the edge of his balaclava. “Run or we catch you, and if I catch you - I’ll kill you. Now run. Go! Run! Run!” He was screaming the words at her, his voice lifted and fevered as his words thundered through her ears as she scrambled to her feet and bolted in a blur of movement and painful heartbeats.
She ran until every breath felt like scratching nails down the inside of her lungs. She ran until her feet bled, and every step was a small implosion of pain. She ran until she was sure she couldn’t run anymore - but every time she rested - paused - wavered for just an instant, she would hear a snap of a twig or the rustle of a branch and know it was them. And she would be off like a shot again, running through even greater pain and forcing every painful breath through her torn lungs.
She ran and ran and ran until she hit a fence. So high she could barely see the tops of the trees above it. There was no frakking way she could climb it. She grabbed the edge of her skirt and ripped a piece of fabric from the edge before she tied it to a piece of tall grass in front of the fence and then she turned left and began to run along the fence. She kept waiting to hit it - the gate, how they got in and out, something, any frakking thing - but all she encountered was smooth tall fence to her right and woods to her left.
She ran and she ran and she ran, knowing with every step what she was about to discover, and when she collapsed in a heap in front of her scrap of skirt several hours later, her feet bleeding and torn open and unconscious from the effort, she ran no more.
Author: gidget_zb
Beta: The Always Fabulous alias424
Rating: NC-17 (it'll earn it soon enough)
Warnings: A/U, pre-series, may contain some torture
Summary: Laura is kidnapped, Bill's coming to the rescuse.... sort of.
A/N: My Seekrit Santa assignment. I got mscrwth who asked for:
"A fanfic where Laura gets kidnapped & it's Bill to the rescue, only Laura's no damsel in distress and Bill's no knight in shining armor."
Okay, so my cracked out brain had a brilliant idea to do this pre-series, and A/U, I hope that's okay. Also, this is part one of what will probably be aout four parts - I really wanted to finish it fully in time, but I got bronchitis for Christmas, and knew I had to post this incomplete or not at all, and I wasn't willing to give the prompt up - because I flove it lol. So I apologize, but I will get the rest up as fast as I can in the new year! So for the purposes of my A/U - Laura works for Adar, but is NOT sleeping with him, Bill didn't leave the Fleet after the first war, but remained in service - and never met Carolanne. Tragic, I know, lol.
A Lie I've Told A Thousand Times
Smell was first.
She breathed in wave after wave of too-dry air that seemed to stick to the walls of her fly-paper mouth, attaching the scent of sweat and blood and fear there like a helpless fly - it twitched and rolled through her mouth, struggling to be free, and she could do nothing - not swallow it or spit it out - in order to help the process along.
Her tongue tried to pull itself up from the bottom of her mouth, and she groaned, feeling more than seeing the harsh overhead lights that were currently attempting to burn their afterimage into her retinas. She needed a drink.
Maybe five - the first one could be water, and the next four could be whatever the frak would dull the pounding in her head and wet her mouth.
It took her all this time between waking and really waking to understand. She didn’t know where she was - or how the frak she had gotten there. Perversely her eyes squeezed more tightly shut at this ricocheting thought - it bounced around her skull like hot shrapnel, begging her to open her eyes - assess the situation so she could formulate a plan. After all, that was what she did. Assess and formulate a plan. It wasn’t all she did - but it was a big part of it. Bigger than she had ever expected years ago anyway.
Her head hurt - hell, her skull, skin, hair follicles and frakking brain matter hurt. Had she been drinking? She wasn’t a heavy drinker normally - but it was hardly normal to find yourself suddenly facing a career path you had never planned while combating the advances of your highly influential, highly married boss and mourning the recent death of your mother. At least, she hoped that was hardly normal. What was the last thing she remembered?
Right. The political conference on Tauron. The Quorum members had been meeting all week to discuss economic plans, and naturally Richard was there as Caprica’s representative. And as Richard took great delight in pointing out - where he went, she went. How in the hell she had somehow gone from schoolteacher to political aide, consultant and campaign manager, she had no idea. It had all gone by so fast - her mother’s increasing illness and Laura’s own desperation to be someone - anyone - but her mother.
Oh frak. What if she had gotten drunk and did something horrendously, stupidly, frakking fraktastically idiotic? She remembered yesterday’s meetings. And dinner - which she had sat through, pointedly shoving Richard’s hand off her thigh and giving him repeated glares he was too drunk to notice. She had only had one glass of wine with her meal - she remembered excusing herself with a grateful sigh, she remembered the elevator, and the realization that she had left her computer in the rental - and going to the parking garage and then -
Nothing.
She sucked in a harsh breath that closed her throat over - and coughed ungraciously as her eyes slowly peeled open, inch by inch.
Frak.
She stared around herself with a frown and a sense of dread gnawing away at the pain and nausea that was now curled into a tightly compressed ball and shoved somewhere under her ribs.
She’d rather wake up next to Adar.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
“Good afternoon, Major. Have a seat.”
He obeyed the order automatically - but Bill didn’t want to sit. He couldn’t very well stand either though - the Admiral in front of him would hardly find it amusing. It wasn’t like he wasn’t expecting this - a lot of the jocks he had flown with at the end of the war had written or called or stopped by - each with the same damn story. Fleet was downsizing now that there wasn’t an enemy to fight anymore - and hadn’t been for over a decade. Each time Bill heard the same damn thing - after all this time - I frakking shot down dozens of toasters and this is what those frakkers hand me? Honourable discharge. What the frak is honourable about it? What are we supposed to do now, Bill?
Bill just poured them another drink - what the frak did he know about it? Being a pilot was the only thing he knew how to do. He didn’t have any other skills - none of them did. The discharges had started a few years ago - trickling slowly by - so slow you almost wouldn’t notice the massive downsizing that was being accomplished. Almost. He had been stupid of course - thought he had gotten away scot-free. Until suddenly he had been relieved from the Atlantia and sent back to HQ. For a briefing. With an Admiral.
Definitely not a good sign.
“Major Adama?”
Bill started - realizing the Admiral had been explaining something the whole time - but Bill was frakked if he knew what it was. “Sorry, sir.”
“As I was saying - this mission requires a delicate hand. The soldier assigned must be discreet - trustworthy. Fleet through and through. There’s a high chance you may not come back from this one, Bill.”
An assignment? He was here for a frakking assignment. Oh thank the- well, thank frak. Bill released the breath he had been unconsciously holding and nodded his head at the Admiral’s words.
“Of course, sir. I can carry out the orders.”
“Without even knowing what they are, Major?”
“Yes, sir.”
There was no other answer - no other acceptable answer for a Major to give the Admiral of the Fleet. Bill’s hands were folded in his lap but his knuckles were white at the thought of any mission that could come with the ‘one-way ticket’ speech. The Cylons were gone. What the frak else could there be?
“We need you to go to Tauron. An... insurgent group there has captured and detained a government employee. Normally - we wouldn’t deal with this sort of thing - but do you follow politics at all, Major?”
Bill shrugged, not really following the segue. “I voted, sir. But I don’t really follow the nitty-gritty details.”
“Well, if you did, you’d know that the Caprican delegate, Richard Adar - is on the fast track to becoming our next President. We think the group meant to get him - instead they got his aide, Laura Roslin.” The Admiral spoke thoughtfully as he slid a slim file across his desk toward Bill. Bill lifted it, but made no move to open it. Instead he gripped it tightly, placing his hands back in his lap.
“All due respect sir - but you’re sending me out to rescue an aide?” Bill’s tone was disbelieving, and the Admiral shook his head with a smile.
“No. We’re sending you out to look like you’re on an S&R. What we need is for you to get captured. We need someone inside this insurgency, Major. Someone smart - who won’t get himself killed or worse, start singing like a jail bird. This group is an unknown - we don’t understand what they’re after, or who’s running it - what we do know is that no one can penetrate them. They have some way of knowing exactly who we’re attempting to use as a plant. Since we can’t infiltrate through the back door - we may as well try the front. See what a prisoner learns.” The Admiral leaned forward, gazing solemnly at Bill.
“Up until now, we’ve had no way of getting a military prisoner in there believably. However, it’s not too much of a stretch to think that Adar would pull strings for this woman. She’s been with him since he was mayor - I want you to fully understand, Major - there is no guarantee of you emerging alive. But it is vital that we get intelligence on this unit, do you understand?”
“Yes, sir. When do I leave?”
“We can give you 24 hours to say goodbye to any family and -”
“No need, sir. I’m single, and my father and I - well - I won’t need those 24 hours. I can pack and be ready within the hour, sir.”
“Very well, Major. All your ordinances are in that file - go pack, read it, and then destroy it.” The Admiral stood and Bill rose automatically to meet him, snapping a salute before he had even fully straightened. The Fleet Admiral returned it sharply. He reached a hand out, gripping Bill’s tightly for a moment. “Good luck, son.”
“Thank you, sir.” Bill nodded before exiting swiftly. There was no point in wasting time on small talk. He had a mission to complete - for a moment he thought of what this actually meant for him. Willing capture - being a prisoner. He shook his head to clear the thoughts away, his grip on the file tightening in small increments - by the time he reached his room at HQ there were several permanent creases in the brown manila.
His bags weren’t even unpacked - so he had precious little to do in that regard. A mere ten minutes found his bags stacked by the door, and Bill found himself seated at the tiny table, staring at the closed file. He opened it quickly, scanning and memorizing the details within - orders, emergency procedures - several ongoing theories as to who the insurgents were being backed by - some more blood chilling than others, but they were all abstract theories at this point. At the back of the file - almost as an afterthought, a single piece of paper had been shoved in.
Laura Roslin.
He stared at the piece of paper for a moment - the grainy black and white photo - obviously some shot for identification purposes. It listed her DOB, her Civilian ID number, her age - height, weight. It listed her family - all deceased - and her job history. But it was all bare bones, and Bill found himself ignoring it all as he stared at the woman’s face in the photo. She looked... implacable. Unruffled. Completely calm. There was something almost soothing about it - her eyes, maybe - or the smooth planes of her face - something about her caused him to sit there for almost four minutes - staring and wondering who the hell this woman really was.
With any luck, he’d find out soon enough.
He reached in his pocket, feeling past his smokes for his old lighter - before flicking it and watching the paper curl up into ash and white smoke.
And if he kept Roslin’s ‘file,’ well that was his own business. No one would care anyway - there was nothing classified about it. It would probably make his cover story look good actually -
Yeah.
He folded it once, twice and once more before slipping it into his pocket beside his lighter. With a swift glance to ensure he hadn’t forgotten anything, Bill grabbed the bag by the door, and quickly stepped through it.
He’d find out soon enough.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
It was frakking annoying really - she tried as hard as she could to not think about how hungry she was, or how thirsty, but as soon as she did, her insides would ache for food and water. She had yelled at first - yelled and yelled and screamed until her throat was raw and she felt like she had swallowed sand.
No one came.
Then she had paced and paced and paced - searched the room frontwards and back, but other than the four depressingly grey concrete walls and the ceiling and floor made of the same, there was only the small metal cot and the toilet that stood in the far corner of the room - and she supposed she should be grateful those were there at all.
Still no one came.
She slept, and woke and paced and curled up next to the wall. Then slept and shouted and banged on the heavy metal door when her voice failed her, banged and banged until her wrists ached and she couldn’t even stand up in front of it anymore.
No one came.
She pressed her back against the concrete - because it was uncomfortable and painful - cold but oh so real. She didn’t know how much time had passed. How long she had been missing - how long she had been sleeping and how long she had stayed awake.
No one would come.
And she would die alone.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Getting found was the easy part.
Show up at the hotel, question everyone and their dog - make a big show of finding Laura Roslin. Bill had spent hours asking people what they knew about this women, and everyone’s answers were different but the same. No one knew her - not really. They worked with her, or for her, or were acquainted with her. But no one said, ‘I know Laura Roslin.’ Maybe no one did.
But Bill kept asking because he needed to be noticed. He had a tail by the end of the first day. The second day was spent in the parking garage where she had last been seen. Studying the scene - trying to find something, anything that would lead him to a location. He needed a location so he could go and get caught.
He was checking the scene one last time when he heard the running steps behind him. Instinct screamed to turn - fight followed by flight, but Bill quelled them and braced himself for the pain. One swift blow to the head, and Bill staggered under the force of it, swaying as the cement floor rushed toward him.
Getting caught was surprisingly easy too, he thought as he felt the cold floor against the back of his head.
And when did the hard part start?
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
The noise woke her, screeching metal and scuffled footsteps. Two men burst into the cell with weapons trained on her. She didn’t move - frozen in place by animal instinct.
“Don’t move.” His voice was cold - and she couldn’t see any of their faces - but she could see his cold eyes through the mask. “Bring him in,” he snapped to the other man, who disappeared briefly before reappearing and dragging another man through the door. Once past the threshold, he dropped his burden in a heap before exiting again and returning with a tray, which was dropped next to the door.
“Food. Water. Cooperate and you’ll get it once a day. If you don’t....” The man holding the gun shrugged before backing toward the door.
“Cooperate with what? And who is - ” Laura found her voice suddenly, but the only answer she got was the screech of rusted hinges as the door was swung shut and bolted. She remained on the cot for a moment, eyeing the two new drop-offs warily. Hunger won out over concern though - really, if that man was injured there was nothing she could do - and he was unconscious to boot, so he wouldn’t know to get offended. She quickly made her way across the floor, grabbing the water cup and drinking a third of it on one gulp. She paused, before sipping more slowly as she divided the food on the plate in half. She would have to share - she wasn’t that cruel, at least. She finished quickly, praying the entire time that it was not poisoned - otherwise she’d be frakked.
However, she’d rather die from poison than starvation.
Once she was finished she crawled across the floor to the man who was still sprawled there. He wasn’t very big - maybe only an inch or two taller than she was, but he was solid, and when she tried to move him over to the bed, he wouldn’t budge.
“Frak.” She glanced around before shrugging and grabbing the blanket from the cot and wrapping it over him after she had settled him flat on his back. He didn’t look too bad - there was some dried blood by his neck, and when she moved him, she felt the wound in the back of his skull - but there were no other signs of damage. “They must have hit you hard,” she whispered - he couldn’t hear her, but it was nice to have the knowledge that she wasn’t talking to herself anymore.
She settled beside him, watching as he slept, studying him intently. His skin was darker than hers - almost golden, and his hair was cropped short and a dark brown. She couldn’t see his eyes, but his face was as broad as the rest of him - strong jaw and wide cheekbones. The most interesting thing about him, of course, was his uniform. He was military - all gold buttons and soft blue fabric. There were wings pinned over his shoulder - and she knew that meant he was a pilot - but it didn’t explain who he was or what he was doing here.
She couldn’t see his name anywhere on his uniform - but she had seen enough soldiers on the wireless to know that she wouldn’t find it. Something about safety precautions during the war. But that had been years ago now. She did recall though, that he should have tags of some sort - had their captors removed them?
She reached for his neck, but her hands hesitated there - hovering uncertainly. She could just wait until he woke. She could just - but her fingers were already acting of their own accord and nimbly slipping buttons through holes until she had enough give to slip a hand down his neck until it snagged metal. She tugged gently at the ball chain and lifted the tags out from under the soft cotton tank he had on under his jacket.
The small tags gleamed softly in the light and she traced the Colonial symbol as she leaned closer to read. W. Adama. “W - hmmm? Wonder what that stands for?”
“Well, you could just stop stripping me and ask,” a gravelly voice rumbled out from the chest she was practically sprawled against, and she shot backwards, dropping the tags as if they burned. She looked up to see he was awake - and found herself staring into the bluest eyes she had ever seen. Her breath caught in her throat and she froze again - for entirely different reasons this time. There was no gun pointed at her, but still, she felt just as in danger.
After an awkward moment, she cleared her throat. “I was not stripping you,” she pointed out primly as she reached over and dragged the tray closer before sitting back on her heels. “How’s your head? Here’s some water.” She extended the glass out and he sat up gingerly, waiting a moment before he reached for it. His fingers brushed against hers as he took the plastic cup, and she shivered before folding her hands in her lap.
He sipped at the water slowly - clearly he had better restraint than she did - before he set it down on the floor next to him. He moved until his back was against the wall and she was kneeling in front of him, and he was quiet for a moment as he studied her. His scrutiny was intense, but she didn’t say anything as she figured she owed it to him to allow him the same opportunity she had had while he slept. “Your picture doesn’t do you justice,” he finally spoke again, and his voice was deep and slow as she frowned at him. “Laura Roslin, I presume?”
“How do you know that? Are you alone - are they looking for me?”
“The W stands for William - Major William Adama.” He held out a hand - and she reached forward to shake it, watching as it engulfed her own small hand. His palms were rough - but warm and dry and she crawled closer until her side was against the wall and she was facing him.
“William - I wish I could say it’s nice to meet you - ”
“Well, it’s hardly the best of circumstances. Did you see who brought me in?” He was watching her intently as he asked the question, and she nodded with a sigh.
“Two men, about five foot ten? They came in with guns - told me to stay put and then dragged you in. They were dressed all in black - and had um - ski masks on? I couldn’t see their faces. But they had grey eyes, I think.”
“They’re the only ones you’ve seen?”
“It’s the first time anyone has come in since I was brought here,” she spoke softly, pressing her shoulder into the hard concrete as she debated asking her next question. “What day is it? I mean - how long have I been here?”
“You were taken close to five days ago, Laura. Here -” He pulled the tray closer and pushed it over to her. “I ate yesterday. You need this more than I do.”
“Or you could just want to see if the food is tainted by giving it all to me.” She laughed slightly but picked the food up and ate quickly anyway.
“You already ate half, I could have just waited,” he pointed out with a sigh. “I was sent here as a favour to Adar from the Admiralty. I was working alone though - well, in conjunction with the Tauron police. I don’t know how long it will be before someone notices I’m missing too.”
“Godsdammit,” she sighed, pushing the now empty tray aside.
“We’ll be fine.” His voice was reassuring but she stiffened anyway.
“Yes, well thank you, Major - so nice to know that now that you’re here, everything will be fine.”
His chuckle echoed throughout the room, and when she glanced over at him he was smiling - his face lit up, and she drew in a breath and held it there. Oh my....
“William. Or Bill - my Mom used to call me Billy, but you can call me whatever you like. Just not Major. If you call me Major, I’ll feel like I have to call you Miss Roslin and that would make me feel like I’m in grade school again. Besides, I think Laura sounds much better, don’t you?” She stared at him as he spoke, her heart seemed to push against her ribs, harder and harder with each beat, and she wanted to answer hell yes, it sounds better, especially when you say it - but she bit her tongue and glanced down at the floor.
“Alright, Bill.” She voiced his name softly, and somehow it just fit around her tongue. “So what now? He said - earlier he said that if we cooperated, they’d keep feeding us.”
“Well, I don’t want to die - so I suppose for now, we cooperate. Find out whatever information we can and see if we can’t find a weakness in their plan.”
“Sounds like a plan.” She blinked heavily as she yawned and fell against his shoulder. “Sorry,” she mumbled.
“You should move to the bed.” His voice was soft by her ear, and his breath stirred the hair there as she sighed and snuggled in. “Laura?”
She felt his hands grasp her elbows, pulling and tugging at her until she stumbled up and tripped over to the cot. One she was lying down, he tucked the blanket around her again before stretching out on the floor beside the cot. That was stupid, she thought - he couldn’t stay on the old floor and freeze to death, and eventually they would have to share the bed anyway - or take turns, or something. But when she opened her mouth to say something, she couldn’t quite seem to muster up the energy. For anything.
The food was drugged, she thought fuzzily, and tried to warn Bill, but before she could speak she slipped into oblivion.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
She could smell fresh air as she woke up, and she felt the scratchy surface beneath her hands as she blinked and rolled over, pushing herself into a sitting position.
There were four of them now, all training their weapons on her as she sat, blinking painfully in the sunlight. “What am I - ” She was attempting to speak, but her mouth felt like fibreglass, and she could only choke helplessly.
“Run,” a voice to the left of her snapped, stepping closer as he pushed the muzzle of his pistol to her face so forcefully she saw starbursts lining the edge of his balaclava. “Run or we catch you, and if I catch you - I’ll kill you. Now run. Go! Run! Run!” He was screaming the words at her, his voice lifted and fevered as his words thundered through her ears as she scrambled to her feet and bolted in a blur of movement and painful heartbeats.
She ran until every breath felt like scratching nails down the inside of her lungs. She ran until her feet bled, and every step was a small implosion of pain. She ran until she was sure she couldn’t run anymore - but every time she rested - paused - wavered for just an instant, she would hear a snap of a twig or the rustle of a branch and know it was them. And she would be off like a shot again, running through even greater pain and forcing every painful breath through her torn lungs.
She ran and ran and ran until she hit a fence. So high she could barely see the tops of the trees above it. There was no frakking way she could climb it. She grabbed the edge of her skirt and ripped a piece of fabric from the edge before she tied it to a piece of tall grass in front of the fence and then she turned left and began to run along the fence. She kept waiting to hit it - the gate, how they got in and out, something, any frakking thing - but all she encountered was smooth tall fence to her right and woods to her left.
She ran and she ran and she ran, knowing with every step what she was about to discover, and when she collapsed in a heap in front of her scrap of skirt several hours later, her feet bleeding and torn open and unconscious from the effort, she ran no more.