fic: Games Adults Play (1/6)
Title: Games Adults Play (1/6)
Author: icedteainthebag
Pairings: Bill Adama/Ellen Tigh/Laura Roslin, think square dancing + Saul
Rating: MA
Summary: Ellen's return to the Fleet brings complications to Bill and Laura's lives.
Word Count: 2,571
Notes: Written for the bsg_epics spit ship swap exchange in order to fulfill wishflsinfl's request of Bill/Laura/Ellen, not PWP, in canon. So basically, write the impossible. Know that going in.
Many thanks to aka_plynn for the fantastic suggestions. Shout-out to plaid_slytherin for her Fleet knowledge, and to everyone who listened to me whine and bitch about how this will never work.
Links to: Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6
-
The smell of dust, of fire and waste, the screech of Raiders near.
Her mouth was dry and this time didn't taste of liquor. This kiss was slow, familiar. Laura held back as soft lips tried to illicit a response.
Another Raider seared the sky.
Laura pulled away. Ellen's face was streaked with dirt and tears, dark circles under her eyes, an abrasion fresh on her cheek. None of it hid the impact of her rejection.
"You can't do this without him."
-
Twenty-eight days after the attack on the Colonies
Ellen didn't think it was terribly important that she remember how she got into the sickbay on Rising Star. She recalled that she was at a bar on Picon coming on to some sleazy but strangely attractive man in all black. She didn't think she'd gone home with him, but she wasn't sure. Every memory after the last martini she'd sucked down was missing.
This happened sometimes, to be honest. But these were extenuating circumstances.
Even if she did sleep with this man in black, she could blame the nuke for her lack of memory. Maybe she'd never see him again. She decided she wouldn't mind that at all.
Her recovery on board the medical ship, once she came to, was relatively quick. Somehow she'd escaped Picon without major injuries. Sure, her face felt, and probably looked, like she'd been hit by a truck and her limbs ached with some fury without the effective, addictive pain meds she'd been given. At least she was alive.
When she first asked her doctor if he knew whether Saul was alive and the doctor smiled and immediately knew the answer, she was filled with an immense joy. It was like the sun began to shine and birds began to sing.
The analogy lost a lot of its relevance for her in the next few hours when she realized she may never see sunshine or birds again.
She had asked to see Saul and hours passed, hours in which she fretted and wondered if she could find a mirror somewhere to see if she looked presentable. She needed a shower. She needed a lot of things.
The doctor came back and the first thing she did was stand up and ask where she could find some decent clothes. The doctor gestured to a bag next to her bed. "These came with you," he said.
She'd never seen the bag before, but it was tasteful.
"The frak," she whispered.
"Commander Adama has arranged to personally see to your transport back to Galactica."
Her eyes popped open with shock. She literally felt them do it. "Adama? Bill Adama?"
"Yes. The Commander... he's in charge of the Colonial Fleet now. Since the attacks."
"Oh, Gods," Ellen said. "I think I need to sit down again."
She didn't know why Saul wasn't coming for her, but knew that the doctor wouldn't have any answers for her either. She certainly didn't mind seeing Bill. It had been a long time.
"Or maybe I need a shower."
-
Weeks run ragged with no end in sight. Adama had been tested before-he was a war-worn competitor, unwilling to give up until his legs gave out from under him. He'd always been that way, but this was different. There was no war but the war against the end; no defense but avoiding the offense. Death was inevitable, but the means by which one achieved death, this time, had to be a choice. He was making the choice for all of them.
It was tiring and it was endless, with a new wrench thrown into things every frakkin' day.
The wrench of the day: Ellen.
Adama's head was spinning at the revelation of her bizarre arrival; granted, she'd had a history of those. It had impacted him so much that he knew it was affecting his ability to command the Fleet. Roslin had noticed it and so had Saul.
He was one hundred percent sure Roslin thought he was a Cylon. In a way he couldn't blame her. He didn't trust anyone either. It had been proven that terrible things happened when he did.
As his white-knuckled hands gripped the controls on his approach to Rising Star, he acknowledged that Roslin could very well be planning some sort of unusual greeting for his return to Galactica. If she had her way, she'd be armed to the gills with Marines whom she had convinced of her paranoid Cylon conspiracy. She'd have him thrown in the brig and Saul'd take command. That, more than anything, would make Ellen pretty damn happy. But it would be a terrible mistake, one Roslin would regret.
This was one seed of many the Cylons had planted that had actually sprouted: self-destructive paranoia.
He maneuvered the Raptor into the hull of the small medical transport, teetering here and there. He completely blew his landing, skidding diagonally across the deck like a frakkin' nugget. This led to a few strange looks exchanged among the deck crew that were quickly righted when he emerged from the bird and they gave him a stone-faced salute.
"At ease," he said. "Good morning, everyone."
He looked down on the deck and there she was. Ellen Tigh, alive and fairly well.
He didn't necessarily wish death upon anyone. Not necessarily. But a convenient absence would have sufficed and made his life a hell of a lot easier.
But he wasn't here for himself. He was here for his friend.
She looked the same-curly long blond hair spilling over her shoulders, her smile broad with a brightly colored flowered suitcase at her feet. He wasn't sure where or how she'd gotten ahold of designer luggage at the end of the worlds. Surely she hadn't had time to pack a bag before or after the nukes hit.
"Bill Adama," Ellen drawled, snapping him out of his contemplative fug.
She sounded the same too.
He hopped off the wing of the Raptor and walked up to her. When within arm's reach, a few awkward seconds passed. His confusion as to how to greet her was resolved when she grabbed him and pulled him into a close embrace.
"Ellen," he said as she pressed against him. She smelled like her familiar and complex perfume, a scent not many women could pull off that he'd secretly coined 'floral frugality.' "This is certainly a surprise. There weren't that many survivors that made it out of the Colonies."
"Well, you know me, Bill," she said, clinging tightly. "I'm a survivor."
"Today you are," he agreed, pulling away until her resistant arms loosened. She flashed him an apologetic smile. Maybe a sympathetic one.
"I'm sorry, Bill. I know you're not into public displays of affection, but I'm just so happy to see you. I just..." She paused and sniffled, her eyes filling with tears that he detected were genuine. "... I'm just so happy to see you and I can't believe I'm going to see my husband again."
He nodded, clasping his hands in front of him and pushing his shoulders back. He was still the Commander here, despite this intimate display in front of a smattering of people who rarely saw him in person. He was going to have to do something about that when there weren't any emotional theatrics involved.
"Saul..." he began.
Anything he could say aloud was going to sound trite. Saul will be thrilled? Saul will be overjoyed?
Saul will start drinking like a frakkin' fish again and I'm going to have to watch him like a hawk while maintaining the safety and security of forty-seven thousand other human beings in this Fleet.
"Saul will be thrilled," he said, his voice low. He motioned to the Raptor, subdued. "After you."
Ellen smiled and grabbed the handles of her bag at her feet. He hesitated, then decided to let her pick it up. He'd never been a bag-carrying man.
"Well, I'm thrilled to see him," she said as she managed in her fashionable heels to climb the wing of the Raptor and slip into its cabin. Adama turned and acknowledged the crew.
"Thank you for your help," he said to the deck chief, a scrawny man named Nolton.
"Sir."
"Things going well here?"
The chief looked like he didn't want to tell a lie. "As well as can be expected, Sir."
Adama studied him, watching his slow breakdown of confidence under a scrutinizing eye. "The people need anything here-you hear anything of the sort-you need to bring it to my attention."
Nolton nodded. "All right."
"Or Roslin's," Adama added as an afterthought.
"Yes, Sir."
He climbed into the Raptor and saw Ellen strapped into one of the rear passenger seats.
"I was gonna ride shotgun, but then thought I'd sit back here," she said giddily. "You know. To surprise Saul even more."
"Oh, he'll be surprised." Adama strapped himself into his cockpit seat.
Things were blessedly silent as he cleared the Raptor for passage from Rising Star's airspace, his battlestar looming on the bow. He never tired of seeing her; she always took his breath away.
"It's really good to see you, Bill."
He felt a nervous swirl in his stomach. "It's good to see you too, Ellen."
"Do you think... once I have some time with Saul, I should probably see you and talk to you... about the details of everything that's happened."
Bill took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "You should probably tell Saul all the details."
He emphasized his XO's name and kept his eyes steadily on his target-his home.
"Our lives have changed, Ellen," he finally said, the Raptor lurching on a more-severe-than-intended left turn toward Galactica's hull. "A lot of things can't be the same."
"I see." Her voice was soft but unconvincing.
He knew Ellen only saw what she wanted to see.
-
Laura Roslin had lost all patience with the man who was supposed to be helping her lead the Colonial Fleet to safety.
Commander William Adama was simply unbelievable. Irresponsible, undependable, and terribly frustrating.
Laura had been waiting for the day when she didn't have to deal with powerful, irresponsible, undependable and terribly frustrating men. Today, she contemplated giving up waiting.
"Billy, hear me out. Adama has mysteriously jumped ship."
Her assistant sat on the other side of her desk, leaning back in his chair, not nearly as disturbed as she thought he should be. Laura paced behind her desk, her hands on her hips.
"After I asked him to take the Cylon detection test."
"It seems so."
Laura stopped pacing and looked straight at him. She had been trying to remain outwardly calm while inwardly enraged and it was more impossible every passing second. "So... so maybe he's gone to his Cylon friends and told them where we are. Has anyone thought of that, Billy?"
The look Billy gave her made her wonder, for a brief second, if she had gone off the deep end. She made a quick decision that no, she had not, and it was everyone else who was completely oblivious to the danger at hand. She straightened her shoulders and took a deep, shaking breath to calm herself.
"We're sitting ducks. It's not like Tigh is going to let us jump away without his beloved, albeit suspiciously and mysteriously disappearing, Commander."
"All right, Madame President," Billy said, sitting up and leaning over to put his elbows on the desk. His bangs fell over his brow as he stared at her in all seriousness. "Hear me out."
She nodded for him to continue.
"Last thing Adama's going to do if he's a Cylon is jump away without telling anybody. If I were a Cylon-"
Laura gave him a pleading look, feeling instantly nauseated.
"I'm not! Okay, for the sake of the Gods." Billy tapped his fingers against the desk. "If I were, I wouldn't want to do anything out of the ordinary. Nothing suspicious."
"Well, then, where did he go?"
"Nobody knows, but it doesn't matter."
Laura cursed the Lords of Kobol under her breath. "It doesn't matter? Nobody's commanding the Fleet!"
"Tigh is."
Laura let out an uproarious laugh, exacerbated by the stress she felt tightening every muscle in her body. She shook her head. "Nobody's commanding the Fleet."
Billy shrugged. "Fine. Nobody is. What're you gonna do?"
Laura looked at him, any frivolity immediately churning back into her seemingly never-ending sense of anxiety. "I guess we just wait and see who... or what... he brings back with him."
Smiling, Billy reached over and grabbed a metal teapot from a service tray someone had placed on her desk... sometime, she couldn't remember. "We wait. In the meantime, have some tea. Seriously, Madame President, take it easy."
She knew that Billy existed in part to take her mind off the fact that there would be no taking it easy for the rest of her life. But she would try, Gods be damned. She would try.
-
Despite Bill's reservations about bringing Ellen back to Galactica, the way he saw Saul's face light up when he saw his wife was worth every bit of worry and every pain in the ass this was going to cause him.
"Looks like you're happy," Bill said as they stood outside Saul's hatch. Ellen had gone inside to do what she termed 'important planning.'
Saul chuckled. "Bill, I never thought I'd have her back." He put a hand on Bill's arm and lowered his voice. "We were on the outs right before the attacks. Things weren't good between us."
"I know." Bill had heard about it briefly from Ellen the last time he was on shore leave. All she had told him is that these problems were unrelated to him. He was willing to believe that for his own peace of mind.
"Now I feel like we've been given a second chance. And I'm not gonna frak it up this time." Saul's grip on Bill's arm tightened and Bill looked into the man's eyes. He seemed nearly desperate, lost in emotion. He realized Saul had something to prove to himself and to everyone else. He wanted to make things right.
"Don't be too hard on yourself. Takes two to tango," Bill said.
"Yeah, well. She certainly knows how to dance."
The obligatory conversation was becoming more awkward by the second. Bill shifted on his feet but never changed his expression. Now wasn't the time. "She does."
"Are you all right with it? With her being back?"
Bill was taken aback, his heart beating rapidly until Saul spoke. "Listen, I know she's not your favorite person. You two have something between you. Some kinda anger, something."
Bill laughed weakly. "Maybe we're just fighting for your affections, Saul."
Saul let out one of his mock-irritable growls and smacked him on the shoulder. "All I'm sayin' is, maybe she's changed. Hell, we've all changed since the attacks. Maybe give her another chance."
Bill couldn't deny the unsettling irony in Saul's statement. "I just hope she treats you right. And that you stay focused on what's important."
"Never let you down, Bill." There was a brief, detectable moment when Saul's happiness was crossed with a note of uncertainty which he quickly shrugged off. "Now, if you don't mind, I've got a date with my wife in the XO's quarters."
"Keep it down," Bill said, nudging his friend's shoulder.
"Tell her that."
Author: icedteainthebag
Pairings: Bill Adama/Ellen Tigh/Laura Roslin, think square dancing + Saul
Rating: MA
Summary: Ellen's return to the Fleet brings complications to Bill and Laura's lives.
Word Count: 2,571
Notes: Written for the bsg_epics spit ship swap exchange in order to fulfill wishflsinfl's request of Bill/Laura/Ellen, not PWP, in canon. So basically, write the impossible. Know that going in.
Many thanks to aka_plynn for the fantastic suggestions. Shout-out to plaid_slytherin for her Fleet knowledge, and to everyone who listened to me whine and bitch about how this will never work.
Links to: Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6
-
The smell of dust, of fire and waste, the screech of Raiders near.
Her mouth was dry and this time didn't taste of liquor. This kiss was slow, familiar. Laura held back as soft lips tried to illicit a response.
Another Raider seared the sky.
Laura pulled away. Ellen's face was streaked with dirt and tears, dark circles under her eyes, an abrasion fresh on her cheek. None of it hid the impact of her rejection.
"You can't do this without him."
-
Twenty-eight days after the attack on the Colonies
Ellen didn't think it was terribly important that she remember how she got into the sickbay on Rising Star. She recalled that she was at a bar on Picon coming on to some sleazy but strangely attractive man in all black. She didn't think she'd gone home with him, but she wasn't sure. Every memory after the last martini she'd sucked down was missing.
This happened sometimes, to be honest. But these were extenuating circumstances.
Even if she did sleep with this man in black, she could blame the nuke for her lack of memory. Maybe she'd never see him again. She decided she wouldn't mind that at all.
Her recovery on board the medical ship, once she came to, was relatively quick. Somehow she'd escaped Picon without major injuries. Sure, her face felt, and probably looked, like she'd been hit by a truck and her limbs ached with some fury without the effective, addictive pain meds she'd been given. At least she was alive.
When she first asked her doctor if he knew whether Saul was alive and the doctor smiled and immediately knew the answer, she was filled with an immense joy. It was like the sun began to shine and birds began to sing.
The analogy lost a lot of its relevance for her in the next few hours when she realized she may never see sunshine or birds again.
She had asked to see Saul and hours passed, hours in which she fretted and wondered if she could find a mirror somewhere to see if she looked presentable. She needed a shower. She needed a lot of things.
The doctor came back and the first thing she did was stand up and ask where she could find some decent clothes. The doctor gestured to a bag next to her bed. "These came with you," he said.
She'd never seen the bag before, but it was tasteful.
"The frak," she whispered.
"Commander Adama has arranged to personally see to your transport back to Galactica."
Her eyes popped open with shock. She literally felt them do it. "Adama? Bill Adama?"
"Yes. The Commander... he's in charge of the Colonial Fleet now. Since the attacks."
"Oh, Gods," Ellen said. "I think I need to sit down again."
She didn't know why Saul wasn't coming for her, but knew that the doctor wouldn't have any answers for her either. She certainly didn't mind seeing Bill. It had been a long time.
"Or maybe I need a shower."
-
Weeks run ragged with no end in sight. Adama had been tested before-he was a war-worn competitor, unwilling to give up until his legs gave out from under him. He'd always been that way, but this was different. There was no war but the war against the end; no defense but avoiding the offense. Death was inevitable, but the means by which one achieved death, this time, had to be a choice. He was making the choice for all of them.
It was tiring and it was endless, with a new wrench thrown into things every frakkin' day.
The wrench of the day: Ellen.
Adama's head was spinning at the revelation of her bizarre arrival; granted, she'd had a history of those. It had impacted him so much that he knew it was affecting his ability to command the Fleet. Roslin had noticed it and so had Saul.
He was one hundred percent sure Roslin thought he was a Cylon. In a way he couldn't blame her. He didn't trust anyone either. It had been proven that terrible things happened when he did.
As his white-knuckled hands gripped the controls on his approach to Rising Star, he acknowledged that Roslin could very well be planning some sort of unusual greeting for his return to Galactica. If she had her way, she'd be armed to the gills with Marines whom she had convinced of her paranoid Cylon conspiracy. She'd have him thrown in the brig and Saul'd take command. That, more than anything, would make Ellen pretty damn happy. But it would be a terrible mistake, one Roslin would regret.
This was one seed of many the Cylons had planted that had actually sprouted: self-destructive paranoia.
He maneuvered the Raptor into the hull of the small medical transport, teetering here and there. He completely blew his landing, skidding diagonally across the deck like a frakkin' nugget. This led to a few strange looks exchanged among the deck crew that were quickly righted when he emerged from the bird and they gave him a stone-faced salute.
"At ease," he said. "Good morning, everyone."
He looked down on the deck and there she was. Ellen Tigh, alive and fairly well.
He didn't necessarily wish death upon anyone. Not necessarily. But a convenient absence would have sufficed and made his life a hell of a lot easier.
But he wasn't here for himself. He was here for his friend.
She looked the same-curly long blond hair spilling over her shoulders, her smile broad with a brightly colored flowered suitcase at her feet. He wasn't sure where or how she'd gotten ahold of designer luggage at the end of the worlds. Surely she hadn't had time to pack a bag before or after the nukes hit.
"Bill Adama," Ellen drawled, snapping him out of his contemplative fug.
She sounded the same too.
He hopped off the wing of the Raptor and walked up to her. When within arm's reach, a few awkward seconds passed. His confusion as to how to greet her was resolved when she grabbed him and pulled him into a close embrace.
"Ellen," he said as she pressed against him. She smelled like her familiar and complex perfume, a scent not many women could pull off that he'd secretly coined 'floral frugality.' "This is certainly a surprise. There weren't that many survivors that made it out of the Colonies."
"Well, you know me, Bill," she said, clinging tightly. "I'm a survivor."
"Today you are," he agreed, pulling away until her resistant arms loosened. She flashed him an apologetic smile. Maybe a sympathetic one.
"I'm sorry, Bill. I know you're not into public displays of affection, but I'm just so happy to see you. I just..." She paused and sniffled, her eyes filling with tears that he detected were genuine. "... I'm just so happy to see you and I can't believe I'm going to see my husband again."
He nodded, clasping his hands in front of him and pushing his shoulders back. He was still the Commander here, despite this intimate display in front of a smattering of people who rarely saw him in person. He was going to have to do something about that when there weren't any emotional theatrics involved.
"Saul..." he began.
Anything he could say aloud was going to sound trite. Saul will be thrilled? Saul will be overjoyed?
Saul will start drinking like a frakkin' fish again and I'm going to have to watch him like a hawk while maintaining the safety and security of forty-seven thousand other human beings in this Fleet.
"Saul will be thrilled," he said, his voice low. He motioned to the Raptor, subdued. "After you."
Ellen smiled and grabbed the handles of her bag at her feet. He hesitated, then decided to let her pick it up. He'd never been a bag-carrying man.
"Well, I'm thrilled to see him," she said as she managed in her fashionable heels to climb the wing of the Raptor and slip into its cabin. Adama turned and acknowledged the crew.
"Thank you for your help," he said to the deck chief, a scrawny man named Nolton.
"Sir."
"Things going well here?"
The chief looked like he didn't want to tell a lie. "As well as can be expected, Sir."
Adama studied him, watching his slow breakdown of confidence under a scrutinizing eye. "The people need anything here-you hear anything of the sort-you need to bring it to my attention."
Nolton nodded. "All right."
"Or Roslin's," Adama added as an afterthought.
"Yes, Sir."
He climbed into the Raptor and saw Ellen strapped into one of the rear passenger seats.
"I was gonna ride shotgun, but then thought I'd sit back here," she said giddily. "You know. To surprise Saul even more."
"Oh, he'll be surprised." Adama strapped himself into his cockpit seat.
Things were blessedly silent as he cleared the Raptor for passage from Rising Star's airspace, his battlestar looming on the bow. He never tired of seeing her; she always took his breath away.
"It's really good to see you, Bill."
He felt a nervous swirl in his stomach. "It's good to see you too, Ellen."
"Do you think... once I have some time with Saul, I should probably see you and talk to you... about the details of everything that's happened."
Bill took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "You should probably tell Saul all the details."
He emphasized his XO's name and kept his eyes steadily on his target-his home.
"Our lives have changed, Ellen," he finally said, the Raptor lurching on a more-severe-than-intended left turn toward Galactica's hull. "A lot of things can't be the same."
"I see." Her voice was soft but unconvincing.
He knew Ellen only saw what she wanted to see.
-
Laura Roslin had lost all patience with the man who was supposed to be helping her lead the Colonial Fleet to safety.
Commander William Adama was simply unbelievable. Irresponsible, undependable, and terribly frustrating.
Laura had been waiting for the day when she didn't have to deal with powerful, irresponsible, undependable and terribly frustrating men. Today, she contemplated giving up waiting.
"Billy, hear me out. Adama has mysteriously jumped ship."
Her assistant sat on the other side of her desk, leaning back in his chair, not nearly as disturbed as she thought he should be. Laura paced behind her desk, her hands on her hips.
"After I asked him to take the Cylon detection test."
"It seems so."
Laura stopped pacing and looked straight at him. She had been trying to remain outwardly calm while inwardly enraged and it was more impossible every passing second. "So... so maybe he's gone to his Cylon friends and told them where we are. Has anyone thought of that, Billy?"
The look Billy gave her made her wonder, for a brief second, if she had gone off the deep end. She made a quick decision that no, she had not, and it was everyone else who was completely oblivious to the danger at hand. She straightened her shoulders and took a deep, shaking breath to calm herself.
"We're sitting ducks. It's not like Tigh is going to let us jump away without his beloved, albeit suspiciously and mysteriously disappearing, Commander."
"All right, Madame President," Billy said, sitting up and leaning over to put his elbows on the desk. His bangs fell over his brow as he stared at her in all seriousness. "Hear me out."
She nodded for him to continue.
"Last thing Adama's going to do if he's a Cylon is jump away without telling anybody. If I were a Cylon-"
Laura gave him a pleading look, feeling instantly nauseated.
"I'm not! Okay, for the sake of the Gods." Billy tapped his fingers against the desk. "If I were, I wouldn't want to do anything out of the ordinary. Nothing suspicious."
"Well, then, where did he go?"
"Nobody knows, but it doesn't matter."
Laura cursed the Lords of Kobol under her breath. "It doesn't matter? Nobody's commanding the Fleet!"
"Tigh is."
Laura let out an uproarious laugh, exacerbated by the stress she felt tightening every muscle in her body. She shook her head. "Nobody's commanding the Fleet."
Billy shrugged. "Fine. Nobody is. What're you gonna do?"
Laura looked at him, any frivolity immediately churning back into her seemingly never-ending sense of anxiety. "I guess we just wait and see who... or what... he brings back with him."
Smiling, Billy reached over and grabbed a metal teapot from a service tray someone had placed on her desk... sometime, she couldn't remember. "We wait. In the meantime, have some tea. Seriously, Madame President, take it easy."
She knew that Billy existed in part to take her mind off the fact that there would be no taking it easy for the rest of her life. But she would try, Gods be damned. She would try.
-
Despite Bill's reservations about bringing Ellen back to Galactica, the way he saw Saul's face light up when he saw his wife was worth every bit of worry and every pain in the ass this was going to cause him.
"Looks like you're happy," Bill said as they stood outside Saul's hatch. Ellen had gone inside to do what she termed 'important planning.'
Saul chuckled. "Bill, I never thought I'd have her back." He put a hand on Bill's arm and lowered his voice. "We were on the outs right before the attacks. Things weren't good between us."
"I know." Bill had heard about it briefly from Ellen the last time he was on shore leave. All she had told him is that these problems were unrelated to him. He was willing to believe that for his own peace of mind.
"Now I feel like we've been given a second chance. And I'm not gonna frak it up this time." Saul's grip on Bill's arm tightened and Bill looked into the man's eyes. He seemed nearly desperate, lost in emotion. He realized Saul had something to prove to himself and to everyone else. He wanted to make things right.
"Don't be too hard on yourself. Takes two to tango," Bill said.
"Yeah, well. She certainly knows how to dance."
The obligatory conversation was becoming more awkward by the second. Bill shifted on his feet but never changed his expression. Now wasn't the time. "She does."
"Are you all right with it? With her being back?"
Bill was taken aback, his heart beating rapidly until Saul spoke. "Listen, I know she's not your favorite person. You two have something between you. Some kinda anger, something."
Bill laughed weakly. "Maybe we're just fighting for your affections, Saul."
Saul let out one of his mock-irritable growls and smacked him on the shoulder. "All I'm sayin' is, maybe she's changed. Hell, we've all changed since the attacks. Maybe give her another chance."
Bill couldn't deny the unsettling irony in Saul's statement. "I just hope she treats you right. And that you stay focused on what's important."
"Never let you down, Bill." There was a brief, detectable moment when Saul's happiness was crossed with a note of uncertainty which he quickly shrugged off. "Now, if you don't mind, I've got a date with my wife in the XO's quarters."
"Keep it down," Bill said, nudging his friend's shoulder.
"Tell her that."