Beautiful in Her Armour 15/16

[mscrwth]

BSG Fic: Beautiful in Her Armour
Summary: Where do we go from here?
Rated: K
Spoilers: up 'til Revelations
Disclaimer: Not mine, just borrowing. They belong to Ron Moore and co. and most especially to MM, EJO and the rest of the crew, who breathe life into them


She wakes up, hours later, and he is still beside her, she is still in his arms, safe and protected. Better yet, he somehow managed to climb into bed with her and her back is spooned to his front. Utterly relaxed for the first time in what feels like forever, she snuggles back against him, into the warm solidity of him, smiles as she feels his body respond to their intimate position. He’s dreaming of teaching her how to fly, calling her nugget and needling her about her sloppy technique. The sudden insight has her casting about for more but it seems her heightened perception is now limited and what there is left of it is beyond her control. She figures that the previous scope of it can no doubt be attributed to the overdose of Chamalla. After a moment, she decides she’s not sorry. It would be unnerving at best to walk around knowing what everyone else is thinking. She knows too much as it is, has seen enough to last her several lifetimes; besides, it might freak people out if they learn she can read them and she doesn’t need that heaped on her head too.

Shaking off the unwelcome thought, she leans back into Bill’s embrace with a languid sigh, noting that somewhere during the night, someone came in and unhooked her from the various monitors she’d been attached to. Life Station is quiet all around them and a glance at Bill’s wrist watch tells her it’s very early in the morning. The only thing breaking the silence is the clunk and creak of the Galactica as she ferries them across the heavens, the gentle beeping of monitors not her own and Bill’s soft snoring. She gently pokes him in the ribs to make him change his position and gradually, his breathing evens out. Looking down at him, a wave of such love sweeps through her that she has to kiss him, even at the risk of waking him. The soft caress of her lips to the tip of his nose doesn’t rouse him though, nor the gentle touch of her fingers as the ghost along his bottom lip. His dreams make him smile with the uncluttered joy of a boy unacquainted with grief and she resolves to make him teach her how to fly as soon as the opportunity presents itself, sooner if she can help it. His hand is thrown over her hip and she caresses the back of it, the prominent veins under his surprisingly soft skin. She feels so much better that it’s almost ludicrous. A good crying jag and a night spent in her love's arms and somehow, magically, the universe does not seem nearly as screwed up as it had before?

Madness; but if this is what it feels like to be mad, she will more than happily sign up for the loony bin.

Feeling that peculiar tingle along her spine that tells her someone is watching her, Laura looks up and finds herself staring straight into Saul Tigh’s one eyed glare. Gently she extricates herself from Bill’s grasp, not wanting to wake him. She sits up, swings her legs over the side of the bed, pleased to note how much easier she’s able to move after the profound lassitude that had had her in its grip earlier; a good night’s sleep will do wonders for that too, apparently. She smiles down at Bill in gratitude as she gently removes his hand from her leg. A strangled expletive draws her out of her contemplation, and she looks up, startled, as Saul advances on her, roughly pulls her into an embrace and then pushes her back just as roughly and starts pacing the deck.

“What the hell were you doing, nearly giving me a heart attack,” he growls. “I didn’t think I’d ever see you again when you went out into the middle of the battle like that, and just when I found out you were you. Frakking screwed up, all of it.” All she can do is smile at him as he stalks to and fro. He stops to glare at her. “Guess we did good though, huh?”

Noting her amusement, he advances on her like an avalanche but knowing who they are to each other, he no longer has the power to daunt her, nor he the desire, she knows from the look in his one remaining eye. “Don’t ever pull a stunt like that ever again though,” he barks, “or I’ll have your hide!”

“Aye, Captain.” She mock salutes him like she did when she was six and he was seven and they were playing at being pirates and she can swear he cracks a smile.

He leans over and kisses her cheek then, and she’s surprised that he can still surprise her after all the many centuries they have known each other, it pleases her too. His voice cracks a little as he whispers in her ear. “And what the frak were you thinking, tasking me with a job like that. You watch over him yourself, you hear?”

“I will, big brother o’mine.”

He steps back, stands at attention. “Good, now get your asses into gear, you’re needed. Tell him boom, boom, boom.”

“I still don’t know what that means.”

“He will,” Saul growls as he smartly turns on his heels and stalks out of her cubicle. She smiles softly, memories crowding in. Saul and the others had always been about equally apart in age, she, with her uncertain life span, had been his big sis as well as his little sister throughout their lives, she preferred the latter to the former, his gruff protectiveness always made her feel safe and cared for.

With the memories of her past lives slowly returning to her, she cannot believe how effectively they were able to erase centuries of shared experiences, how they didn’t surface until the conditions they’d set for themselves were met. Wondering if she’ll ever understand it all, how they managed to pull it all out of the fire in the midst of such chaos is a mystery to her; she briefly contemplates that maybe some kind of divine hand may have had something to do with that after all.

Idly speculation, she thinks and with little effort rouses herself from her thoughts and sets her sights on more immediate pursuits. Turning towards Bill, she softly shakes him awake and seals his mouth with a kiss as he mutters and objection. His eyes blink open and she smiles at the naked love and devotion in them as he recognizes who dared wake him.

“Hey,” she whispers.

“Hey, you,” he mumbles sleepily.” Had a nice dream.”

“I know you did,” she says, “you were smiling.”

“What time is it?”

“Oh-five-hundred,” she says and he smiles so broadly at her use of Military slang that she has to kiss him again.

“Come here,” Bill murmurs as he pulls her down onto the bed. She settles on her side again and he spoons himself against her back. “Too early to be up and about.”

She giggles and wiggles back against him when she feels his hard on press against her backside. “Yes, Sir!”

“Feeling frisky, huh?” he murmurs into her ear and then makes her gasp as he starts raining kisses down on her jaw line, nipping and sucking and laving the exposed skin of her shoulder and neck, tugging on her earlobe. One arm slips under her, the other goes up and over and she finds herself helplessly melting into a puddle of delight under his touch. The hospital gown makes for easy access as his hands cup her breasts, her healthy breast she cannot help but think before all thought leaves her as he caresses the skin between them, tweaks her nipples until they stand at attention. His other hand meanwhile is on a mission down south. He gently trails his fingers down her abdomen, carefully avoiding the bandage on her side and the stitches beneath. She gasps as he delicately circles her belly button and raises her hand to her mouth to stifle a moan, only too aware that they are in a public place, shielded from others by only a thin curtain. All the while, his fingers venture ever further down to where she needs him most. She feels her labia swell as his fingers dip below the waistband of her panties. Heat pools between her legs and she’s already ridiculously - embarrassingly - wet and so, so ready for him.

His fingers stroke the bare mound of her sex where hair has yet to start growing back in and the feeling of his calloused fingers sliding over her soft, sensitive skin elicits another moan. She spreads her legs a little to give him better access and he enters her, pushing just one finger in as his thumb ghosts over her clit. He rolls one nipple between the fingers of his other hand and sucks on her neck hard enough to leave a bruise and she has to clench her jaw, hard, to contain her gasps of pleasure.

Slowly pumping his finger in and out he sets a pattern where he delves deep within, then withdraws and spreads her wetness across her swollen clit, paints it across her engorged labia. When unexpectedly he pushes in with two fingers on the next run she almost lifts off the bed, writhing in ecstasy, but as her hips buck into his hand she cannot suppress a wince when the sudden movement pulls at her stitches. His hands still and she moans a protest at the loss of his touch.

“Shh,” he whispers and lowers the hand that had been doing such delectable things to her breasts. His broad palm comes to rest against her diaphragm, his fingers splay out across her stomach and gently but firmly he anchors her to him, keeping her immobile as he resumes his ministrations.

The feeling of his body encasing her so completely, the fact that she’s barely able to move, heightens sensation, makes her hyper aware of his every move. He slides another finger in and deepens his thrusts, varies the angle of penetration and it’s all she can do not to cry out at the delicious friction. Already knowing her so intimately, he senses when she’s close, withdraws and caresses the swell of her hips, her stomach, that sensitive spot just below her hipbone anywhere he can reach; anywhere but where she desires his touch most; waiting for her to calm down. He brings her to the edge again and again, never allowing her to fall over, until finally she can’t stand it anymore.

“Stop teasing, Bill,” she breathes.

“Yes, Sir, just waiting for your orders, Sir,” he rumbles and lightning quick, he shoves his fingers home, slides them as far up inside her as he can manage, scissors them in her depths. The unexpected force and pressure of it is heavenly and she shoves her fist in her mouth to smother her surprised yelp. Zeroing in on his target like the good little pilot he is, his questing fingers find her g-spot, caress her there while the heel of his hand presses down on her clit and she’s off, coming unglued like a well used toy, flying apart like a clutch of leaves in a storm. She throws her head back, vaguely feels his lips on her cheek but then an inarticulate scream of pleasure starts building in her throat and she turns her face into the pillow, fist still in her mouth, as he brings her to completion. She can feel her inner walls flutter and contract around his fingers, as her body starts to shake in his embrace. She’s anchored to him so tightly though and instead of a succession of fast, tight spasm that might have hurt her, she shudders through a prolonged series of tremors and contractions that stretch out her orgasm deliciously. The fact that Bill’s talented fingers are still moving inside her fluttering tunnel while his palm still grinds down on her clit, only prolongs the swell of her climax even more and for a while, everything vanishes but pure bliss so intense she nearly passes out from the overload of sensations.

He seems to sense this too and carefully he extricates his fingers, kisses the back of her neck and gently pets and strokes her, helping her come down from her high. He chuckles when she rolls onto her back and scoots back to give her some room. Her side is pressed into his front and she can feel the heat of his hard on against her hip. She looks up at him through heavy lidded eyes and reaches for him with her good hand but he stays her.

“No need. That was for you, just a little thank you, Ma’am for saving all of us.”

Laura raises an incredulous eyebrow; he can be so dense sometimes. “You have no idea what you did, do you?” she asks him. His surprised reaction tells her that indeed, he doesn’t and she proceeds to set him straight with alacrity. “Do you not know it was you who tipped the scales, you who completed the equation? So many times, the cycle ended and started again, different in detail, but the outcome always the same, total annihilation of the Cylon race, near extermination of the human race. This time, we get to go on and build a future together and it was you who made it happen, by accepting me as your partner and equal you unlocked those coordinates. It was you and your big, big heart.”

“Me and you, then, just like it’s always been. The two of us, making the impossible happen.” He smiles a self deprecating smile which makes her want to slap him but her ire evaporates when he kisses her forehead where her scarf has ridden up to expose the new growth of hair covering her head like the fine down on a baby. When he rolls onto his back too and gathers her to him, she willingly follows and after a bit of careful maneuvering in the too small bed she’s lying half on top of him, her ear to his chest, listening to the steady thump of his heart as it beats in time with her own.

She basks in it for a few glorious moments, revels in the feeling of them, just lying there together, and allows herself a moment to reflect that out of all the possible outcomes she might have envisioned, this certainly was not one of them. Human Admiral and Cylon President, shacked up, she can see the headlines now. She snorts in amusement and the fleeting thought that for all she knows she’s been impeached and relieved of her duties days ago registers but she finds she doesn’t much care. Her work is almost done. Hard on the heels of that thought, another thought intrudes and her eyes fly open.

“I forgot to tell you,” she whispers into the skin of his neck. “Saul was here just now, told me to tell you, boom, boom, boom.”

The news makes him jumps up out of the bed so quickly that she tumbles face first into the sheets where his body has just been.

Unrepentant, Bill helps her up, gently sets her on her feet and goes diving into the duffel bag at the foot of her bed. Presumably, he brought it in earlier while she was still out, sure she would wake up. The thought is oddly touching, his faith in her so strong. With a triumphant grin, he surfaces, hands her a blouse, a bra and a fresh set of panties, her dress pants. He looks a little foolish, standing there in his rumpled uniform, sporting the worst case of bed hair in the history of ever, holding up her bra and panties while a hard on tents the front of his uniform trousers.

She thinks she’s never loved him more.

Grinning from ear to ear, she carefully pulls the hospital gown over her head. Her smile morphs into a grimace as the movement pulls at the still tender furrow along her ribcage. Seeing her wince, Bill helps her into her bra, his movements gentle but urgent. He slips her arms into the sleeves of the silk blouse, buttons her up when the cast makes it difficult for her to do up her own buttons. She leans on him as he helps her into her panties, then her slacks; as he slides the material up her legs, he kisses the inside of her knees, rubs his face along the soft skin of her thigh. She sways at the feel of him against her over sensitized skin and he quickly straightens up, catches and steadies her before zippering her up.

“I’m sorry,” he says as he straightens his own clothes. She reaches up and smoothes his hair into some semblance of control.

“Don’t be, it felt wonderful, you feel wonderful and I expect a whole lot more of where that came from when we get to your quarters.”

“Our quarters, and that’s not where we’re going,” he says as he rummages around in the drawers of her nightstand

“It’s not?” the pronoun pleases her, the fact that he’s holding up her wig pleases her even more. She hates he damned thing but prefers it to wearing her scarf in public.

“Well, it will be, but first a little detour.” With a last, critical glance, he slips her glasses into the V of her blouse, dons his own, reaches out to minutely adjust her wig and pronounces them ready to go.

Forgoing a wheelchair in favor of Bill’s arm, around her waist, even though Cottle violently objects to it, a familiar diatribe with lots of colorful expletives mixed in, they slowly make their way to the hatch. She’s surprised to find Jack joining them, especially after his tirade but a look from him silences the question already on her lips.

Outside Life Station Jarez stands at attention, Brynn’s pace by his side taken up by a Marine she vaguely recognizes. She lets go of Bill’s arm briefly, walks up to Jarez and stands on tiptoes to press a soft kiss to his cheek. He looks down at her, startled and then concerned as she winces and lowers her heels to the deck.

“Madam President?” Well, that answers that question.

“I’m okay, I…” she swallows, “I just wanted to say thank you, and to tell you how sorry I am.”

“Not your fault, Ma’am,” he stoically replies. “Hazards of the job.”

“Still, I am sorry. You two were a team for so long, it must feel very much like you’re missing a part of yourself.”

He nods and she squeezes his arm as she turns towards his new partner and welcomes him.

Bill takes her arm again as she sways a little, the strain of being up and about worse than she’d anticipated, maybe she is not doing as great as she’d thought earlier, she muses. Maybe she's a little nervous stepping out into the corridors and meeting their people, testing the truth of what Bill assures her of, that they're not all out to lynch her. She feels Cottle slip his arm into the crook of her elbow, supporting her and throws him a grateful look which he ignores with a characteristic show of indifference that, as ever, never quite masks his gentler nature.

“Where are we going?”

“Patience, my love.” The exited gleam in Bills eyes buoys her up and they continue on their way in silence, making good progress thanks largely to the fact that between them, Bill and Jack all but carry her along.

They run into various crew members on their way to wherever it is they are going and she smiles gratefully as they salute Admiral and President both, watch her with no recrimination in their eyes. Slowly, her nerves settle and she tries to pay attention to where they are going but as ever, she's already lost in the maze of corridors, has been the moment they left the familiarity of the hallways surrounding Life Station. Bill and Jack set a steady pace and with their staunch support either side of her she is able to keep up, even though the walk is tiring her out faster than she’d care to admit. After a few more turns they come to the wall of remembrance and she motions for her escorts to stop. It feels strange after all that has happened to send up a prayer to the Gods for all the souls they have lost during the long years of their struggle but she finds the familiar words offer comfort still and if that’s what she takes away from them, that’s okay, they still have a place. Maybe that’s just one more thing that needs to be redefined; then again, maybe not. People will find comfort where they may and that’s okay too.

After a few moments spent in silence, each lost in their own thoughts, they move on, walk the length of the wall then round a few more corners and traverse more corridors that all look like each other. She’s just about ready to admit, if only to herself, that she is well and truly lost, when she suddenly starts to recognize her surroundings. Before long, they arrive at their destination, which turns out to be the observation deck.

Just before Jarez spins open the hatch and allows them entrance, Bill leans over and whispers in her ear. “Boom, boom, boom, Madam President.”

Laura turns on her heels towards him, starts to ask what he means but then the hatch swings open and Bill just laughs as he takes her through into the room beyond. When they enter, a profound silence settles over the deck as everyone present turns to face them. Laura feels a moment of panic being confronted with so many people at once, it seems half the crew is packed into the room and all she can see of the view screen is a sliver of black, a few pin points of light, stars, part of an unfamiliar constellation. Silence reigns for seconds that feel like hours and then, somewhere, someone starts to clap and soon the thunderous roar of applause fills the observation deck.

Uncomfortable, Laura looks at the floor, clears her throat but no words come out and Bill, sensing her discomfort, raises his hand, shakes his head and slowly the applause dies down. It’s soon replaced by exited murmurs and Laura feels a surge of gratitude when they are no longer the center of attention. Bill leads her through the crowd towards the view screen and there they find Lee and Kara, deep in conversation. Lee is sporting a sling and looks a little grey around the edges but he seems to be well on the road to recovery and she’s glad.

At their approach, Lee steps forward and hugs first his father, then Laura. He rests his cheek against hers for a moment and she can feel his tears drip down her face and soak into the material of her blouse.

“I thought I’d lost you, that you were dead and we lost you and it was all my fault for letting you go in there on your own,” he whispers haltingly. She hugs her to her for a long moment, her almost son, and then pushes back out of his embrace to face him.

“When did I ever let you let me do anything, huh, Captain Apollo?” she teases him and sees his lips curl into a hesitant smile. “I’m just sorry I had to leave you like that, I didn’t see any other way.”

She kisses him on the cheek and when he steps back, Laura finds Kara, standing in front of her, staring down at her shoes, arms clasped behind her back, looking awkward and forlorn.

Without hesitation, Laura gathers the young woman in her arms and tries not to wince as Kara slips her arms around her middle and returns her hug with all the strength of her tall, willowy frame.

“The children of the one reborn shall find their own country,” Kara mumbles in her ear.

“What did you say?” Laura asks, drawing back a little.

“The children of the one reborn shall find their own country. It’s something the Rebel Hybrid said.”

Laura smiles at the young woman, this ersatz daughter of hers. Somewhere in all this, the brash, cocky girl child morphed into a grown woman not afraid to face uncomfortable truths. “Don’t put too much stock in prophecies and myths from here on out, okay?”

Kara frowns in confusion. “But it all came true, didn’t it? I talked to Sam; he told me all about it.”

“Some of it did come true, yes, but look how it had us all tied into knots and at each other’s throats along the way.”

“I destroyed a whole civilization; Earth became a wasteland because I crashed there.”

“Earth became a wasteland because of the folly of men, not because of anything you did. We assigned certain monikers to you when you landed and they became truths and pretty soon, we were waging war amongst ourselves, but that did not have anything to do with you, not really. No more than a single drop of rain has anything to do with how tall a tree grows. You are not the Harbinger of Death, Kara Thrace. What you are is someone I am very proud to know.”

Kara nods and lets her go. “Likewise, Madam President.”

She looks around then, sees Gaeta mouth a countdown into a headset and realizes they are about to jump, though who is left in CIC to jump the ship is a mystery to her, seeing as their whole fractured family is gathered here, on the observation deck. Lee and Kara and Sam, Saul and Caprica, Sharon and Hera, Dee, Gaeta, Tyrol and Nicky and Boomer standing with them. Laura recognizes her with a start, so similar yet so different from Sharon. Even Gaius is in attendance; gone are his ridiculous robes and he looks oddly self possessed and serene, standing off by himself in a corner of the room with a pleased expression on his face miles removed from the self satisfied smirk she is used to seeing on him. It’s almost disconcerting and when he starts to gesture animatedly and talk and to no one she can see, she finds relief in the familiarity of it. She can almost see the retinue that surrounds him, possibly a copy of herself, Caprica probably and most definitely a copy of himself and a sudden intuition tells her it was the Baltar in his head that appeared in her visions, not the corporal one. When he catches sight of her watching him, he nods graciously and she nods back, mouths a thank you at him and smirks as he looks away, eyes misting over behind his glasses. Turning, she catches sight of Tom and quite a few members of the Quorum; against the far wall, there’s a smattering of Sixes, Eights, Leobens and even a Cavil, a Simon and a Doral. Full house, she thinks and smiles.

But beyond that - more than that - she can feel her father and mother and sisters, Billy and Elosha, Helo and Brynn, can feel everyone they lost along the way looking down at them from amongst the stars, well, maybe not literally, that may well have been a figment of her overtaxed brain, induced by the Chamalla, an attempt to put the intangible into a less abstract form, but they are here none the less, she can feel them. She knows Billy is smiling down on her, feels Elosha squeeze her hand, feels her father and mother and sisters hug her as they JUMP and she greets them all and then they come out of the jump and the view screen in front of her is filled with wide oceans and lush, green continents and cheers erupt everywhere even as somewhere, a radio crackles to life and a voice booms from the tall speakers flanking the view screen.

“CIC, please hold.”

“We’re on hold for their President,” Lee whispers in her ear as Bill squeezes her hand and then stalks away. Her eyes follow her love as she listens to his son explain what’s going on. “We already sent a scouting party ahead, Caprica and Leoben, Zarek, Kara and I. We established first contact yesterday. They are quite willing to meet with us and engage in talks to determine how best to settle and integrate our peoples, especially when we told them who led us here.”

Kara cuts in excitedly. “You will not believe how beautiful it is down there, just like we saw on Kobol. Green fields, rolling hills, woodlands teeming with wildlife, wide open skies, clear streams that feed into oceans brimming with life, and best of all, space enough to house us all and then some to spare.” She grins, a clear eyed, untroubled grin. “Fluffy clouds even.”

Laura turns and looks at them in wonder, but before she can think to ask more, a new voice booms from the speakers, deep and authoritative. The accent and inflections are a little different but his words are perfectly clear as he addresses them.

“This is President Avery of the Unified Tribes of Terra. Welcome on behalf of the entirety of our people.”

Bill stands by the radio, holding out the handset with a huge grin splitting his face nearly in two. “Madam President, if you will?”

She fights back tears as she accepts the handset. His fingers caress her knuckles as he slings his other arm around her shoulders, apparently having decided propriety can go frak itself. She smiles up at him, starts to speak, has to stop and start again as the enormity of this moment truly sinks in. They made it, for all their trials and hardships, they made it to a new home, were on the verge of joining their long lost kin and carving out a new life for themselves.

“Mister President,” overcome, she swallows convulsively, scrapes her throat. “You have no idea how good it is to hear your voice.

“This is Laura Roslin, President of the Twelve Colonies of Kobol, First and Last of the Five.

“We come in peace.”

.