Fanfic: Surrender, Part 2
Title: Surrender
Author: larsfarm77
Rating: T (for the first two parts)
Words: 560 in part 2
Huge thanks to my betas tjonesy, innealta, and ellisandra for amazing work.
After waiting long enough for Laura’s day to start in earnest, he had wandered back to his cabin, feeling every bit the coward he was. His stomach roiled. His back ached from the few hours he’d spent on Saul’s ancient couch. He glanced briefly around the space on the way to the head, just long enough to make sure that she wasn’t there and still make it to the bowl on time. Stomach empty, he spat a few more times before flushing and rose to splash water over his face and brush his teeth.
He felt like shit, and it wasn’t just the aftermath of the alcohol. He had given up long ago trying to figure out how Saul was able to function after such nights, and Bill was grateful his friend had offered to take the early shift. The couch that had been his bed most nights over the last weeks seemed to beckon him, but the aching pain in his back drove him toward his rack.
Boots and socks removed, he collapsed, sinking gratefully into the familiar mattress and pillow. He reached to pull the covers over himself, and lay on his back. Her scent surrounded him. It wasn’t at all like the hint of something floral he would enjoy if she brushed by him to grab a file, or the horrible tang of sickness that lingered long after he’d helped her back to bed. This was far more basic, more intimate. Something learned at the surface of the skin. The fantasy of Laura above him settled in his mind; she lowered herself so he could bury his face in the hollow between her breasts. The moment shattered, however, when he glanced across the room and saw her suits where they hung beside his uniforms in the closet.
His mind’s image was suddenly replaced by one of Saul’s quarters. He could see Ellen’s nightgown, one strap sliding down the hanger, pressed against Saul’s dress greys. Can't smell her. I can't smell her anymore, Bill. I kept her clothes... but her smell is gone now.
Tears slipping to the back of his throat, Bill stood up slowly. He carefully arranged the blankets before sitting on the edge of the rack. He sat a long time, a blurred view of his hands in front of him and considered what should have been such a simple question: how?
Finally, he reached to turn on the light above his rack. A pale yellow glow brought the features of his cabin into relief, and the answer surrounded him.
He stood up and walked slowly to the bookshelf on the wall. He ran a finger over dusty spines, half remembered words surfacing in his mind. Pulling one book after another, he thumbed carefully through the pages, reading in a low voice -
“You anticipate what I would say, though you cannot know how earnestly I say it, how earnestly I feel it …”
“You are my heart, my life, my one and only thought.”
“It is not time or opportunity that is to determine intimacy -- it is disposition alone. Seven years would be insufficient to make some people acquainted with each other, and seven days are more than enough for others.”
--until he found it. There was no need to mark the page. All he needed was the right time.
***
Credit for the quotes from Adama's books (I ain't that good, lol):
First two: Charles Dickens (A Tale of Two Cities)
Third: Jane Austen (Sense and Sensibility)
Comments always welcome! Third and (long!) final part up tomorrow. Please be aware that the rating will change (and, as a result, I will have to friend lock the post. Feel free to friend me, but do reassure me that you are of age :).
Click here for part 3
Author: larsfarm77
Rating: T (for the first two parts)
Words: 560 in part 2
Huge thanks to my betas tjonesy, innealta, and ellisandra for amazing work.
After waiting long enough for Laura’s day to start in earnest, he had wandered back to his cabin, feeling every bit the coward he was. His stomach roiled. His back ached from the few hours he’d spent on Saul’s ancient couch. He glanced briefly around the space on the way to the head, just long enough to make sure that she wasn’t there and still make it to the bowl on time. Stomach empty, he spat a few more times before flushing and rose to splash water over his face and brush his teeth.
He felt like shit, and it wasn’t just the aftermath of the alcohol. He had given up long ago trying to figure out how Saul was able to function after such nights, and Bill was grateful his friend had offered to take the early shift. The couch that had been his bed most nights over the last weeks seemed to beckon him, but the aching pain in his back drove him toward his rack.
Boots and socks removed, he collapsed, sinking gratefully into the familiar mattress and pillow. He reached to pull the covers over himself, and lay on his back. Her scent surrounded him. It wasn’t at all like the hint of something floral he would enjoy if she brushed by him to grab a file, or the horrible tang of sickness that lingered long after he’d helped her back to bed. This was far more basic, more intimate. Something learned at the surface of the skin. The fantasy of Laura above him settled in his mind; she lowered herself so he could bury his face in the hollow between her breasts. The moment shattered, however, when he glanced across the room and saw her suits where they hung beside his uniforms in the closet.
His mind’s image was suddenly replaced by one of Saul’s quarters. He could see Ellen’s nightgown, one strap sliding down the hanger, pressed against Saul’s dress greys. Can't smell her. I can't smell her anymore, Bill. I kept her clothes... but her smell is gone now.
Tears slipping to the back of his throat, Bill stood up slowly. He carefully arranged the blankets before sitting on the edge of the rack. He sat a long time, a blurred view of his hands in front of him and considered what should have been such a simple question: how?
Finally, he reached to turn on the light above his rack. A pale yellow glow brought the features of his cabin into relief, and the answer surrounded him.
He stood up and walked slowly to the bookshelf on the wall. He ran a finger over dusty spines, half remembered words surfacing in his mind. Pulling one book after another, he thumbed carefully through the pages, reading in a low voice -
“You anticipate what I would say, though you cannot know how earnestly I say it, how earnestly I feel it …”
“You are my heart, my life, my one and only thought.”
“It is not time or opportunity that is to determine intimacy -- it is disposition alone. Seven years would be insufficient to make some people acquainted with each other, and seven days are more than enough for others.”
--until he found it. There was no need to mark the page. All he needed was the right time.
***
Credit for the quotes from Adama's books (I ain't that good, lol):
First two: Charles Dickens (A Tale of Two Cities)
Third: Jane Austen (Sense and Sensibility)
Comments always welcome! Third and (long!) final part up tomorrow. Please be aware that the rating will change (and, as a result, I will have to friend lock the post. Feel free to friend me, but do reassure me that you are of age :).
Click here for part 3