Love Letters | PG | Battlestar Galactica
Title: Love Letters
Prompt: Laura asks for forgiveness.
Challenge: A to Z Drabble Meme Part II; F is for Forgiveness
Fandom: Laura/Bill, Battlestar Galactica
Requested by: sheepyshavings
Rating: PG
Word Count: 679
Disclaimer: Not mine. Wish they were. Please don't sue.
Author's Note: I swear at some point I’m going to write something Roslin related that isn’t depressing…but I had this idea and I HAD to write it. I hope I managed to capture her voice and that this is in character. Comments are love!
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You may not know this, Bill Adama, but I love to watch you sleep. As you do with everything else in life, you give it everything you’ve got. I envy how heavy of a sleeper you are, but I have to confess that I have never slept better than when I’ve been with you. I don’t mind if you snore-or steal all the blankets. I hope you’ll pardon me if I become a little saccharine in the pages to come; you’ve known me to be stoically reserved these past years. I’ve wasted many moments in silent repose rather than spending them with you and communicating to you just how deeply I feel for you. Perhaps I’ve robbed us, in a way-I hope these notes will make up for it.
You may be wondering why, if I love to sleep with you so much, I’m instead sitting at your desk, writing in this journal. (Allow me set the scene for you: my pale green scarf is around my head and I’m wrapped in your bathrobe. My glasses are perched upon my nose and I pause after every few words to look at you. Whenever I do, my heart swells.)
There are many things that I’d like to share with you, Bill. I want to share everything with you, every little detail of the five decades I’ve been alive. There will never be enough time to recount all the anecdotes of my childhood or the loves and losses of my adulthood. I can, however, steal a few moments here and there while you’re hard at work in the CIC to record unshared memories and daydreams of what our future together could have been like.
I’m keeping this journal for you so you’ll have something left of me when I’m gone. You could call this a series of love letters, and you would be right. I trust you’ll read them in moderation. Like everything in this uncertain world of ours, they won’t last forever.
Even now, I know you have not accepted that I’m dying. I look in your eyes and I can see you looking past the sunken cheeks and frail body. Are you imagining me as I once was, or are you simply trying to ignore the disease that is slowly claiming my life? Whatever your reason, I don’t blame you, Bill. I only fear that the end will come and you will be shocked and angry, as if there may have been a miracle cure in the final hour. I don’t want my death to come as a surprise to you when you’ve known all along that it was inevitable.
What I want for you is to simply forgive me. Can you do that for me, my love? Will you do that? Forgive me for waiting so long to tell you I love you. Forgive me for moments of anger and words of regret. Forgive me for not being able to grow old with you. Please-forgive me for dying.
I know that forgiveness has never come easily to you, but I believe that I am not asking for the impossible. Remember the alluvial deposits and our first dance. Remember the way you always had me climb the ladder first so you could not-so-subtly enjoy the view. Remember Searider Falcon. Remember how much I love
“Put that work away and get back in this bed, Roslin.”
Laura looks back at Bill and sees him propped up on his elbows, his hair tousled from sleep. Perhaps he’s not such a heavy sleeper if he noticed her absence-the thought simultaneously warms and saddens her. How will he sleep when she’s not just a few feet away?
She sets down her pen and closes the journal. She’ll finish her first entry tomorrow when he’s working. She won’t waste a moment with him, not when so few remain.
She slips out of his robe, draping it over his chair while he sleepily eyes her naked body. She grins at him. They don’t necessarily need to waste time sleeping, either.
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Prompt: Laura asks for forgiveness.
Challenge: A to Z Drabble Meme Part II; F is for Forgiveness
Fandom: Laura/Bill, Battlestar Galactica
Requested by: sheepyshavings
Rating: PG
Word Count: 679
Disclaimer: Not mine. Wish they were. Please don't sue.
Author's Note: I swear at some point I’m going to write something Roslin related that isn’t depressing…but I had this idea and I HAD to write it. I hope I managed to capture her voice and that this is in character. Comments are love!
-
You may not know this, Bill Adama, but I love to watch you sleep. As you do with everything else in life, you give it everything you’ve got. I envy how heavy of a sleeper you are, but I have to confess that I have never slept better than when I’ve been with you. I don’t mind if you snore-or steal all the blankets. I hope you’ll pardon me if I become a little saccharine in the pages to come; you’ve known me to be stoically reserved these past years. I’ve wasted many moments in silent repose rather than spending them with you and communicating to you just how deeply I feel for you. Perhaps I’ve robbed us, in a way-I hope these notes will make up for it.
You may be wondering why, if I love to sleep with you so much, I’m instead sitting at your desk, writing in this journal. (Allow me set the scene for you: my pale green scarf is around my head and I’m wrapped in your bathrobe. My glasses are perched upon my nose and I pause after every few words to look at you. Whenever I do, my heart swells.)
There are many things that I’d like to share with you, Bill. I want to share everything with you, every little detail of the five decades I’ve been alive. There will never be enough time to recount all the anecdotes of my childhood or the loves and losses of my adulthood. I can, however, steal a few moments here and there while you’re hard at work in the CIC to record unshared memories and daydreams of what our future together could have been like.
I’m keeping this journal for you so you’ll have something left of me when I’m gone. You could call this a series of love letters, and you would be right. I trust you’ll read them in moderation. Like everything in this uncertain world of ours, they won’t last forever.
Even now, I know you have not accepted that I’m dying. I look in your eyes and I can see you looking past the sunken cheeks and frail body. Are you imagining me as I once was, or are you simply trying to ignore the disease that is slowly claiming my life? Whatever your reason, I don’t blame you, Bill. I only fear that the end will come and you will be shocked and angry, as if there may have been a miracle cure in the final hour. I don’t want my death to come as a surprise to you when you’ve known all along that it was inevitable.
What I want for you is to simply forgive me. Can you do that for me, my love? Will you do that? Forgive me for waiting so long to tell you I love you. Forgive me for moments of anger and words of regret. Forgive me for not being able to grow old with you. Please-forgive me for dying.
I know that forgiveness has never come easily to you, but I believe that I am not asking for the impossible. Remember the alluvial deposits and our first dance. Remember the way you always had me climb the ladder first so you could not-so-subtly enjoy the view. Remember Searider Falcon. Remember how much I love
“Put that work away and get back in this bed, Roslin.”
Laura looks back at Bill and sees him propped up on his elbows, his hair tousled from sleep. Perhaps he’s not such a heavy sleeper if he noticed her absence-the thought simultaneously warms and saddens her. How will he sleep when she’s not just a few feet away?
She sets down her pen and closes the journal. She’ll finish her first entry tomorrow when he’s working. She won’t waste a moment with him, not when so few remain.
She slips out of his robe, draping it over his chair while he sleepily eyes her naked body. She grins at him. They don’t necessarily need to waste time sleeping, either.
---