The Price Part 2
Title: The Price
Characters: Roslin/Zarek
Rating: MA for themes
Disclaimer: I don’t own them. I’d like to, but I don’t
Notes: Tom and Laura’s relationship starts badly
Spoilers: S1 - S3
Thanks to the wonderful
dixgrl78for beta and for making it read so much better with her suggestions
Surprisingly, Tom kept his word and went nowhere near Laura and after a while she began to relax, even to be happy. Or as happy as she could when she was waiting for this little slice of peace to be over. Because she knew this was just the eye of the storm.
And within days she was proved right with Centurions walking through the main settlement and life went from being uncomfortable to downright hellish. The only bright side was that Galactica and Pegasus had escaped, and Laura took comfort from the fact that at least some of humanity would reach Earth. As long as some of them were alive, then all was not lost. A long term view not shared by her fellow civilians, who (unless she was being ultra-sensitive) seemed to give her ‘do something’ looks which had her wanting to scream. For fraks sake, she done her best to keep them off the godsforsaken planet and they’d chosen to ignore the threat and settle. Just what did they expect? The Cylons’ to ignore their presence and let them live in peace. Right. And now she’d been proven right, they expected her to do something. As if she had a move to make.
The one additional thing, that if she were being honest was concerning her, was the absence of Tom Zarek. Whilst Frakhead Baltar was out there preaching co-operationand forgiveness, the Vice President was nowhere to be seen. Which meant he was either dead, or in Detention. And deep inside a small spark glowed slightly deeper. Zarek may be a manipulative, dishonest, blackmailing terrorist, but at least he was no collaborator. That fact made her just a little happy.
~#~
Time was a luxury Tom hadn’t appreciated in his earlier incarceration, to busy being bitter, plotting. This time round, he had ample time to reflect on his life. And although there was little he regretted in his life before the Cylon attack, there was a lot he would change after. Notably his opposition to Laura Roslin. He’d seen it as a game, a chance to win recognition, a chance to win freedom for the under classes and the oppressed. He hadn’t realised things had moved on, so entrenched was he in fighting the old battles. Cylon occupation and imprisonment bought the rather obvious revelation that the only thing Laura had been interested in was their survival.
And that bought the realisation that he was partially to blame for this fiasco. If he’d taken the time to see Laura and her goals, he would never have supported Baltar. He hoped.
~#~
As the Six walked into her cell, Laura shut her eyes, counted to ten, then opened them again. Well that myth was blown to smithereens. Wishing really hard didn’t make it go away. Huge surprise there.
Maybe ignoring her would work.
Or then again maybe not.
Time to think was both good and bad. The good was the quiet in between being slapped around. An inability to distract herself with jobs, with conversations gave her time to reflect. Not much of a positive really considering that reflection gave her the ability to second guess every moment of her life. Gave her time to fall into the trap of thinking that maybe, because she wasn’t as good a person as she could be, meant she somehow deserved this. Almost like a battered wives syndrome. It must somehow be your fault.
Today she was stuck in reflecting on her relationship with Adar, distracting herself with worrying about Tom, and was seriously wondering how (great sex aside) she’d become trapped into the unhealthy relationship. The only explanation she could come up with was agreeing with Cottle, who in one of his ‘you have no self preservation instincts’ speeches had suggested that she had self destructive tendencies. Although she’d given him an eye roll, Laura tended to agree with him, mainly because with every day spent making decisions that affected people’s lives Laura lost more and more of herself. And now she found herself perched on a precipice, looking into nothingness and finding she wasn’t sure if she cared if she fell or not. Or maybe she'd already fallen.
Now that did bear some contemplation. Or at least it would do when she could focus on anything rather than the pain. Six was seriously beginning to irk her. The Cylon was inhospitable and impolite. Maybe Miss Manners should have been hardwired into the original Cylons. And that thought made her laugh out loud, a fact that both confused and angered the blonde.
Detention would be easier if she could figure out what they wanted. They never seemed to ask about the Resistance, at least not specifics, which made things very confusing. Unless she just assumed they did it to frak with her.
Laura was surprised and thrown to be released by the little frakhead, Baltar. But she certainly wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth by questioning his motives, especially as they were patently obvious. That being said, the latest approach made her deeply uncomfortable, given she couldn’t get her head round the one basic flaw (in her opinion) - Cylons downloaded and humans didn’t. All it accomplished was to reduce the small human population, and they couldn’t afford that.
So all in all she was not in the best frame of mind to be dealing with Tigh and his comment about collaborating. So her carefully kept control briefly shattered and a very satisfying pain shot through her hand as it impacted the former Colonel’s jaw. Around them she could see the ‘wtf’ looks on Anders and co as they were mentally taking the decision to run or to stay. Tigh on the other hand was giving her a slightly more respectful look than earlier. What was it about men? They seemed to think all problems could be solved by violence. Mind you, hitting Tigh was quite a stress reliever. And more importantly it gave her an edge in dealing with the boys.
~#~
When the New Caprica Police came for her, Laura found her only reaction was a sense of relief. She didn’t believe she was a pessimist. It was just that she seemed to have been surrounded by death for most of her life and sadly was more comfortable with the idea of dying than living.
What she wasn’t impressed with was the plastic twisty-tie thing that bound her wrists. Although it was extremely effective as restraints go, it really didn’t have any flair.
Bright side was that the niggling mystery over Tom’s disappearance was solved and she found herself sat next to him. Sometimes life’s quirks were more helpful than others and even if she was going to her execution, she at least had an interesting companion. Imminent death bought its own honesty so when Tom asked if she had planned to steal the election she’d actually answered yes, much to her amazement.
Tom had given her his ‘thought so’ look and smile; then had said with almost painful honesty, “I wish you had.”
Laura found herself looking searchingly at him. All things aside, Tom seemed a lot more comfortable with himself than she remembered him. More mellow almost.
When they were released from the truck, ostensibly for a rest break, Tom found himself just watching Laura and admitting just how much he’d missed her. A feeling that might not be mutual as she was mostly ignoring his presence in favour of studying the people and landscape around her.
Tom found himself reaching out and pulling her back as he realised she really did have the self preservation instinct of a newborn when she headed to the front of the crowd. He was satisfied when she didn’t fight him and came willingly to the side of the truck. Lost in the moment he didn’t notice the Centurions until he was rather unceremoniously tossed down the hill. He covered his slight embarrassment by joking that it had been a long time since a woman had tossed him. Or something like that. He really didn’t remember exactly; he was just happy to be watching her.
In fact what he was most impressed about was that firstly Laura still had a sense of humour, because she did giggle at his lame comment. And secondly, she obviously had some kind of weird superpower because anyone else would have lost their glasses in the uncontrolled roll. Not Laura, she reached the bottom basically unhurt, fairly undishevelled, curled up and looking expectantly at him.
~#~
In the relative safety of the caves Tom spent his time catching up on what had been happening whilst he’d been incarcerated and nothing he heard made him happy.
His second ‘hobby’ was Laura watching, and those observations also made him distinctly unhappy. Laura spent most of her time organising events, supplies, reassuring people, in fact practically everyone wanted something from her. Wanted everything from leadership, to organisation, to support, to consolation, and she always gave, no matter what they needed. But no one ever reciprocated. No one ever reached out to touch her, to reassure her, to support her.
And saddest of all was that Laura didn’t expect anyone to, which was probably why she’d been so calm with his earlier proposition. Well, technically propositions. Her expectations of other people’s behaviour toward her really was low.
But he aimed to change that. Now he knew what he wanted to be a part of her life, even if it was going to take an awful lot of hard work. He was going to prove to Laura that she could rely on him.
~#~
He spent the next few days unobtrusively making sure she was aware of his presence, offering support and help before she asked, knowing she wouldn’t. He’d observed her lamentable eating habits and tried to make sure she couldn’t get out of eating by ensuring he, or someone else was around. If he were to make a snap call, he’d put her at having a borderline eating disorder as she never seemed to think of food for herself.
He’d caught the puzzled looks she gave him. Not to mention the one that he’s seen before, the one where she was waiting for the other shoe to drop. And the longer he didn’t make a move, the more confused she became. So step one was working.
~#~
Tom watched the unfortunate Ellen Tigh being dragged into the caves. He didn’t rate her survival chances, feelings towards collaborators leant pretty strongly toward the execute them. And frankly Ellen didn’t rate highly on his radar. At least until he saw Laura try and talk Tigh and Anders out of killing her.
He was never going to understand her. But maybe he didn’t have to.
Looked like the conversation with them hadn’t gone well, judging by the very snippy walk as she exited the cavern. That was a very expressive walk and gods help anyone that got into her path at the moment. Tom fell into line behind her.
“Bad day at the office?”
Laura spun round and glared at him, making Tom hold his hands up in mock surrender.
“You can’t save everyone.” Wrong thing to say because that made her glare more threatening. Or at least it would have been if he hadn’t seen the glint of tears in her eyes. Laura looked thoughtfully at him and her gaze changed from angry to slightly predatory, the green coming through more vibrantly than it usually did. A small half smile quirked her mouth and Tom cheered up. He recognised that expression. That was a prelude to sex. She leant in brushing her hand against his thigh, eyes never leaving his. She gave him a come with me look and led him back to her sleeping area.
As soon as they had a degree of privacy, Tom found himself divested of his shirt before he could even blink and frantic hands were doing the same to his trousers. That was unexpected. But he certainly wasn’t complaining. Not when her hands were so talented, and her lips so warm and inviting. Not when he was pushed onto the floor. Or when she straddled him and rode him until they both hit oblivion, hot, sweaty and exhausted.
He didn’t worry until she regained her breath, got casually off him, cleaned herself up and wandered off again, leaving Tom feeling used. And hoping that wasn’t how Laura had felt en route to Kobol.
~#~
That pretty much set the pattern for their 'relationship' if you could call serial frakking a relationship. Each time Tom reached out to her, Laura changed the conversation, or initiated another bout of lovemaking. Because that's what Tom had decided it was. At least in his mind.
Now he just needed to work on Laura. So she could see the possibilities.
~#~
Tom wasn’t sleeping well. Caves were all well and good in theory but though he would never admit it to anyone, time spent in prison had given him a mild form of claustrophobia, and the enforced stay here also exacerbated those feelings. So, he was doing what he normally did, pacing, except this time he could pace more than just a cell. This time he had free range of the entire cave system, or at least the parts that weren’t used as sleeping quarters.
He found that once again he had subconsciously gravitated toward Laura’s area. Hoping to find her awake, he popped his head round the blanket that passed as a door, only to be disappointed by finding her soundly sleeping. A rather unusual occurrence it had to be said. He half believed she didn’t sleep given the amount of time she spent organising things, and people.
Deciding that sleeping company was better than no company, he took a seat near her pallet and hoped he didn’t seem too much like a sad stalker (even if he was ticking a few of the stalker boxes: obsessive enough to watch her sleep, anxious for her approval and attention).
Frak. He was a puppy on an invisible leash. And the really sad thing about that was he found on further contemplation, he really wasn’t concerned about that. Of course, he’d also never let Laura know that. Ever.
He would have left after coming to that realisation, if it hadn’t been for the almost inaudible mewling noises she was beginning to make and the fact her hands kept drifting toward her face in a protective, warding manner.
Now he was faced with one of his most difficult decisions, did he wake her from what he thought was a nightmare? Assuming this was actually a nightmare, typical that nothing about this woman was easy. She couldn’t even manage to display proper symptoms so he could be sure.
What was wrong with the old standby of screaming and sitting up?
The easy option would be to leave her alone. He was sure that she would not be pleased if she thought any weakness on her part had been witnessed and the old Tom would have put his needs first and left. The Tom that was falling quite deeply for her needed to help her.
“Laura.”
“No. Please.” It was a plea whispered so quietly that despite his attention being fully on her, he almost missed it.
He knelt beside her, placed a hand gently on her shoulder and shook her gently. That provoked an instant response. She scrambled back out of his reach, visibly frightened, defensive. Tom’s heart sank. He’d suspected she’d been abused in her time in Detention. Some scars were unmistakable and this reaction confirmed that suspicion.
“It’s me, Laura. You’re safe.”
“What the frak are you doing here?”
Tom would have laughed if he didn’t believe she’d serve him a certain part of his anatomy on a plate. Besides he was becoming used to playing with Laura and that would put the kybosh on future plans. And he had a lot of them. It was quite sad really, the amount of time he spent contemplating her, contemplating scenarios.
He was impressed with the speed of reaction; she really had amazing self control, going from terrified to snippy in the blink of an eye.
“You were having a nightmare.” He answered almost defensively and watched the suspicion on her face turn to her enigmatic mask as she took in the implications of his words. She really didn’t like being seen at a disadvantage.
Why she felt she had to maintain the stoic reserve amongst friends was something he chose not to contemplate. He had the suspicion that, all things being equal, Laura did not truly consider any of them friends or even allies. He didn’t blame her; he just wanted to prove to her that this time she could count on him. That their rather unusual start to the relationship was behind them, and he wasn’t that unhappy, selfish angry man any more.
Keeping everything bottled up inside was not healthy and sooner or later it would tear her apart. With hindsight, perhaps some of his actions following his wife’s death could’ve been avoided if he’d of spoken to someone. So, maybe being a friend meant getting her to admit her feelings.
“Thank you for your concern, misplaced though it was.” Laura responded politely from her almost defensively curled up seated position. “But as you can see I’m fine.”
Tom folded his arms and quirked an eyebrow at her. He knew she was a good liar, but the ‘I’m fine’ was pushing his belief system just that little bit too far. She may be a lot of things in his opinion, but at this particular moment, fine was not one of them.
He took a deep breath and decided to call her on it. “Actually I can’t see that. You’ve been detained and questioned by the Cylons and now almost killed. There is no way ‘fine’ is applicable.” He stated categorically.
As he watched he could see her measuring his words and did his best to project sincerity, which really didn’t seem to be working because she was giving him a suspicious look.
“Whatever.” Now that really made Tom smile. Laura had obviously been spending way too much time with the children, particularly teenagers because she managed to put the same sarcastic drawl into the word. And looked unbelievably cute with the sulky pout she was wearing. So he did the first thing that came into his head and pulled her into the hardest bear hug he could, surrounding as much of her as he could.
For a brief second she was startled, her entire body stiffening in shock. Then she tried to push him away, gently at first, then more strongly, finally using all her strength. But Tom had the superior position and she had no angle to hit out. Besides, Tom knew she’d never draw attention to them. It was mean to take advantage in that way, but in Tom’s opinion, Laura needed a hug.
“Let go of me!”
Now that was truly impressive, Laura could shout in a whisper. But Tom was feeling reckless, and Laura’s seated position precluded any of the more painful responses. “No.” And to emphasis his words he began to rock her gently.
Laura made another attempt to push him away, then realising how fruitless it was, changed her tactics and sought his mouth. Tom smiled, trust her to try distraction.
“This isn’t about sex, Laura.” He said putting a chaste kiss on the tip of her nose. “I just want to hold you.” He took a deep breath as he contemplated whether to be honest. “I… I couldn’t sleep. I have nightmares too. I just wanted some company.”
He wasn’t sure if it was an ‘oh’ or a sob, but she seemed to relax into his arms at his words, small shudders wracking her body. He half thought she was crying, but as usual with Laura, he could never be sure.
The one thing he was sure of was that he’d never felt quite as content as when Laura fell asleep in his arms.
~#~
That was the last bit of peace she had until Galactica, thanks to Pegasus’s sacrifice, made it possible for the Colonists to escape New Caprica.
Then things went from terrifying, to seemingly never-ending problems as finite resources and space was allocated.
Fortunately, life soon settled back into what passed as normality, and for a second time, she was President without being elected, this time thanks to Tom Zarek.
~#~
Laura for once, found herself alone in her office. No pesky aides. No immediate crisis. No annoying bureaucrats taking up her time with trivia. Just time to think.
And that wasn’t necessarily a good thing. Because it gave her time to contemplate her personal life. And that was something she didn’t like to do. Why in the gods’ names was she still seeing a man who blackmailed her into sex? Was she really so self destructive that she sought out men who would hurt her? Or was it that she considered them safe because she would never give them all of her. But Tom’s behaviour recently was confusing her, giving her support, affection, friendship and she wasn’t sure how she felt about that.
Why was she still on good terms with Tom, when rumour mill was sure she and Admiral Adama were frakking like bunnies? In fact, there was a whole host of romantic literature/gossip about them. Too many people with too little to focus on wanted to project some kind of hope onto them. So why did she not go with the majority opinion?
Bill Adama was a decorated military hero.
Solid.
Reliable.
Moral.
Honest.
Upright.
Model citizen.
All the things Tom Zarek was not.
So why was she still ‘making out’ to use a Cally word with the former terrorist when she could have the military man?
Maybe, her subconscious pointed out, because Tom would have suggested a more fun exercise when she told him she was going to the gym rather than commenting it smelt like old socks even on a good day.
And as for the bed offer, Tom would have offered himself in the bed.
So was it so wrong, that she wanted to spend time with the guy who seemed to want her, rather than the one who blew warm and cold? The one who made her laugh in bed, and didn’t take offence at her giggling?
More importantly, using the criteria she’d used in the past, when over a drunken night at University with her friends they’d come up with the test of hotness. Simple but effective. When deciding on hotness levels, picture the subject running in a long black leather coat. If it turns you on, passes the hotness test. So, Tom and Bill running, in long leather coats, through Galactica’s corridors. Laura concentrated on the image. Unsurprisingly, Bill lost the image fight.
So this left her where?
She was still in the midst of her musing when her door was unceremoniously opened and a very irritated Tory stood in the doorway. Since when did her Aides come in without knocking?
Oh. And what was that she had in her hand, being casually swung on one finger? Oh frak. No wonder Tory looked snarky. Resisting the urge to do a classic head::desk::thud she kept her face neutral and made a polite enquiry. “Can I help you, Tory?”
That wasn’t helping, if anything the younger woman’s expression darkened.
“Do you want to know where I found these?”
“In the laundry?” Laura asked hopefully.
“No. Under your cot. I went to collect the file you were working on last night and there, peeking out, were these.” Tory stated, flouncing the boxers in emphasis.
“Mmm.” Laura made a non committal noise.
“Since when do you wear boxers?”
“They are comfortable.” Laura stated, hoping to avoid the conversation.
“They belong to Tom Zarek.” She said accusingly.
Laura refrained from her ‘so why ask’ response and settled for “And?”
“What are you thinking? The press will crucify you if they find you’re sleeping with your Vice President. How are you going to explain your relationship?”
Laura held a hand up, stopping Tory in mid flow. “One. What I am thinking is no one’s business but mine. Two. I’ve been keeping secrets for longer than you would believe so unless you are planning on running to the press, they won’t find out. Three. It’s not a relationship - more of a serial frakking.”
At that statement, she could almost see Tory putting metaphorical fingers in her ears going la la la la. The girl really looked quite distressed.
“What did you expect Tory? I’m only human. I want something just for me.”
“With all due respect, how do you know you can trust him?”
For all her experience, Tory was a little naïve. Since when were sex and trust inclusive? In her experience, the boys you couldn’t trust were far more fun.
“Because Tom knows I’ll personally introduce him to an airlock if he betrays the fleet.”
There was no real response for that statement and Tory couldn’t exactly say it was Laura she was worried about, not the fleet.
But just as she opened her mouth to point that out that fact, the man himself walked in and snuck the boxers out of her grasp with practiced ease.
“Wondered where they got to.” He stated nonchalantly, tucking them into his pocket and taking a stance beside Laura. He wasn’t sure what was going on, but he’d seen it enough times to recognise Laura’s defensive stance. And back up never hurt.
His move to support Laura had Tory looking slightly confused.
“That will be all, Tory.”
Her snippy look was so Laura he had to smile as she flounced out of the room.
"What are you smiling about?"
"Nothing."
"Right."
He gave her his little boy grin. "No. Not in the office."
His grin became wider and he took a step toward her.
"Uh uh." She shook her head adamantly and pointed to the other side of the room.
He gave her a fake disappointed look. "But it's lonely over here."
She shook her head again. "Not after the Admiral nearly caught us on the desk."
Tom burst out laughing.
"It's not funny."
"It was from where I was sitting, or rather squashed under the desk. It was rather sweet of him to be concerned for your health." Tom said, ducking as the cushion she kept on her chair came flying across the room at him.
"Well you aren't the one who nearly had to explain to Cottle why I was all flushed."
"Now that I would have paid to see."
"Out. Now."
Still laughing, Tom obeyed. "Tonight?"
"We'll see."
"I'll see you at 10 pm then," he said with a wink, leaving Laura just staring after him with a small half smile at his arrogance.
~#~
Once she realised Vice President Zarek was not going to sell out Laura for some good press, and that he was genuine in his support of her, Tory learned to relax about the new found ‘relationship’ and more to the point, be amused by the denial of the two main parties that there was a relationship, despite their ever apparent closeness.
For two people that had such a rocky start, they were surprisingly well suited. Far more, in Tory’s opinion than the oft rumoured Adama/Roslin relationship though she wasn’t sure she wanted to think to deeply about either.
~#~
Denial was good for a great many things Tom learned.
Especially now Laura was sick again.
~#~
Tom often caught the puzzled looks she threw him as he made himself at home in medbay every evening after the days work while she had treatment, ostensibly to go over the days events, to keep her in the loop.
He wasn’t sure she totally bought the excuse, but he had a feeling from past experiences with her that she expected to be abandoned and he was not going to do that. Admittedly she had little reason to trust him given the slightly rocky start to their seeing each other, but since they’d escaped from New Caprica, they’d settled down to a pretty good routine. Often they were poles apart politically, he believed she was at times a dangerous idealist and she believed he was a ruthless extremist, but most days they rubbed along pretty happily.
He believed they made a very good couple, though she would rather die than admit that she obviously thought the same thing too. Yet as she had ample opportunity to date the dull Adama, she’d still kept it to the professional with a little flirting on the side. How Adama hadn’t taken her up on some of her comments was beyond him. The man was either stupid, oblivious, or had fantastic willpower. Either way Adama’s loss was his gain. And what a gain.
Even Adama had ended his hatred of him, not that he’d had much of a choice. They’d been in the middle of a heated, threatening argument when Laura stepped between them, reminding them they needed to work together. That hadn’t exactly gone well and things were working their way steadily downhill, until Laura had collapsed. That had focused both of them, especially given Cottle’s lecture.
Since then they had found that although they still had issues of trust, they had found a common, Laura’s welfare.
~#~
Cottle’s diagnosis and treatment aside, Laura knew things that other people didn’t and Tom believed she always knew this would be the end, and was almost happy about it, seeing it as a trade off for the fleet finding Earth. There was also the strange kind of serenity that radiated from her.
It took a while for him to realise that she was preparing Galactica and the fleet for him to assume the Presidency. Once he realised what she was doing, he watched her spin the subtle, manipulative webs to ensure his succession.
And gradually, step by step he was gaining acceptance, from the mainstream, from the other Quorum members, and even, now he was there to help the people and not for the power himself, the Galactica crew. It was at the same time wonderful to be legitimised, but terrifying since realising the responsibility he now had. Another lesson learned too late, it was far easier to destroy, than to build. If he knew then, what he knew now, a lot of mistakes could have been avoided, especially misjudging Laura so thoroughly. A drunken evening commiserating with Wally Grey had revealed that Laura’s nickname (or one of them) within the Cabinet was Adar’s Zarakist.
He was gaining everything he ever wanted, but it was bittersweet as he was gradually losing the most important thing in his life to sickness.
The scales always need to balance, was Laura’s comment when he tentatively bought up the subject.
~#~
As her illness progressed and she got on with the business of dying, Tom spent every moment he could with her, but only after his work was done. Laura would not permit the fleet to be cheated and still had a spy in his camp with the very capable mini Laura clone, Tory Foster. And he wouldn’t have it any other way.
Once she’d figured she couldn’t scare him off, that he was with her regardless, Laura relaxed enough to show her fear and pain, reaching out. And he was never prouder.
Laura’s staff and the Galactica crew covered for them, and Laura spent her nights cradled in his arms, commenting that he’d become a mushball with a small smirk. And he’d agreed and hugged her tighter, careful not to bruise her.
~#~
Tom made his weekly pilgrimage to the bench by her resting place.
“You were right. Again. Lee Adama has followed your footsteps into politics. Much to his father’s disgust, not to mention the amusement it’s giving the rest of the pilots. From a personal point of view, it’s going to make stepping down easier for me.”
The wind rustled through the trees almost as if speaking and he paused for a minute in his arranging of the flowers he’d bought her. Simple wildflowers that grew in abundance on the planet they now called home, and ones that she would have loved, if she had seen them.
“And you can say told you so about the whole President issue. You said I’d hate it, and I’ll admit you were right, even though I’d never say it to your face. Building a society is far easier that trying to tear one down.” He sighed. “I wish I had realised that a lot earlier. It would have made our relationship a lot easier.”
He gazed up at the sky, then smiled, the soft smile he reserved for her, not the politician’s smile, or the smirk he used for other people.
“But then it would have been a lot less interesting.”
In the frantic activity of creating a viable new society, this was the only place that he found a small measure of peace, the place where everyone knew to leave him alone to mourn in his own way. If the security detail found his habit of talking to her strange they kept it to themselves and he was grateful for their loyalty, despite knowing it was for her.
As was his practice, he poured a drink for himself, set one on her grave, and made himself comfortable on the bench for the evening.