A/R Fic: Fission/Fusion Chapter 7
*waves*
Just joined the community to share the Bill love, and figured I'd post the fic I updated most recently. It's a set of missing scenes from Season 3, not perhaps as much wishful thinking as I thought it was when first starting to write it. Apologies for cross-posting.
Bill's POV, because there is never enough Bill!
Rating: MA
Word Count: 20663
Chapters: 7
Excerpt:
"The neck of Adama's uniform chafed more than normal, and he silently cursed this farcical trial for trapping him in his dress blues for the majority of a week. It was an old suit, made when he was several pounds lighter, and one he always delayed altering. Because of his vanity, perhaps, which he recognized was unseemly in a man such as himself, but he clung to small shreds of it regardless. Besides, it was about to go into storage, on that day when everything had been swept away.
It was such a small thing, to have a jacket too small or a hem too high, to constantly reach for a button that had been missing for years. Such a small thing, but it constrained them from looking forward. The very clothes on their backs threw the calamity in their faces like clockwork every dusk and dawn. The enormity of the loss was highlighted in the laughable smallness of things - a color of thread that could never be duplicated, the sole on a shoe finally worn through, a favorite pen whose ink had run dry. Those were the small losses that mounted to drive grizzled soldiers to turn in their racks and hide their sobs."
Here's the fic over at Survival Instinct
Just joined the community to share the Bill love, and figured I'd post the fic I updated most recently. It's a set of missing scenes from Season 3, not perhaps as much wishful thinking as I thought it was when first starting to write it. Apologies for cross-posting.
Bill's POV, because there is never enough Bill!
Rating: MA
Word Count: 20663
Chapters: 7
Excerpt:
"The neck of Adama's uniform chafed more than normal, and he silently cursed this farcical trial for trapping him in his dress blues for the majority of a week. It was an old suit, made when he was several pounds lighter, and one he always delayed altering. Because of his vanity, perhaps, which he recognized was unseemly in a man such as himself, but he clung to small shreds of it regardless. Besides, it was about to go into storage, on that day when everything had been swept away.
It was such a small thing, to have a jacket too small or a hem too high, to constantly reach for a button that had been missing for years. Such a small thing, but it constrained them from looking forward. The very clothes on their backs threw the calamity in their faces like clockwork every dusk and dawn. The enormity of the loss was highlighted in the laughable smallness of things - a color of thread that could never be duplicated, the sole on a shoe finally worn through, a favorite pen whose ink had run dry. Those were the small losses that mounted to drive grizzled soldiers to turn in their racks and hide their sobs."
Here's the fic over at Survival Instinct