FIC: A Degree of Reconciliation (2/4)
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Rating: MA (This chapter rated T)
Word Count: 1,400
Summary: There’s only a few days left until Roslin assumes the presidency again.
Episode Setting: Collaborators
Series: Love in a Time of War: 3
Laura entered Adama’s quarters carefully. He was finishing up a call, waving her to sit down. She chose the armchair over the sofa, her stomach tight.
But he smiled at her as he came around, offered her a drink that she declined. He splashed a few inches in his glass, and sank down near her on the sofa, his eyes bright with interest. “How’d it go with Zarek?”
She smiled too, relaxing. “Pretty well, I thought. Of course he wanted something in exchange for abdicating.”
“Of course,” Bill said, shaking his head, sipping his drink.
“I’ve offered him the vice-presidency,” she said, watching Adama.
His jaw locked, but he didn’t meet her eyes. He asked, “Why?”
Still smiling, she said, “Once he saw that Baltar was going to collude with the Cylons, he stood up to them, and wound up in detention for his trouble...ending up facing a firing squad--“
She had to stop, smile gone, her lips pursing, and Bill’s brow furrowed in concern. “Laura--“
She slipped her glasses off, tucking them away. Ignoring him, she said, “I realize that he can be dangerous--“
“Can be?” Adama drained his glass, rising to go for more.
“It’s politics, Bill.” His first name hung in the air; should she have said Admiral?
“Exactly. “I don’t care if Zarek was right in the heat of battle for the insurgency; that war is over. He will not play nice in the political arena,” he said, returning to the couch.
“Of course,” she said with an impatient sigh. “That’s why I have to keep him close enough to watch.”
“That worked out so well with Baltar as your vice-president,” he pointed out.
“I didn’t realize how dangerous he was at the time--“
“You suspected him as a Cylon collaborator!”
“I mean politically dangerous. Capable of turning people away from my administration.” She explained, “If I don’t give Tom this, he’ll be working furiously behind my back. Now his office will be right on the other side of the curtain--“
Bill hissed into his glass, puzzling her. He put it down before saying, “My mother and sister were killed by a terrorist. By a man very much like Zarek, that others thought was right and justified. I am very aware just how dangerous he is.”
Laura saw the flash of a suicide bomber exploding her pack, watched Cylons and humans alike tossed in the air like ragdolls. Her mouth was dry; she wished that she had that drink now.
“I didn’t know that,” she whispered. She was disturbed that there was so much they don’t know about each other. Were they just comfort in a storm so that details didn’t matter? Or were they defining what a relationship was in this new way of living?
He shrugged. “It was a long time ago; it’s not important now.”
She pressed, “How is it not? There must be many things I don’t know about your past life,” even as she feared him turning this around on her.
“It feels like a past life--lived by another man.” He rested his head on the sofa back and stared at the ceiling. “Like I said, it’s not important.”
Frustrated, she asked, “Does Lee know? He respects that frakker.”
“No.”
“Why the hell not?” Somewhere along the line, the questioning had turned around, and her blood was pounding for another reason.
“I didn’t think my sons should hate as I have.” He looked at her now. “I can be political too, sometimes.”
She leaned back in her chair, staring down at her hands kneading her skirt. The loss of her family had made her emotionally distant, gun-shy to love, no matter how hard she tried to intellectualize herself out of it. Yet he’d married, had children, despite a similar experience. How could one be so affected and another move on?
Or had he? She thought of the warmth in his eyes as he looked on Kara, Dee, Sharon, Cally--she’d never felt a moment of jealousy and now she knew why. It was the love of a big brother, now father. The lost promise of his sister would live on in the succession of bright young women who he could nurture and encourage. He loved too hard, turned a blind eye to hurtful, even destructive behavior, always looking for another little girl to protect.
“You’re going to have to trust me on this call,” she finally said.
He nodded once. “Okay. But don’t forget to ask for backup when he starts the push-back.”
She quirked a smile and dipped her head in reply.
Adama had apparently moved on from Zarek. “Lee came to me with a disturbing report,” he told her. “Crewmembers are disappearing, and it’s not just errors in the rolls. It’s people even I’ve seen since the exodus.”
She leaned forward with concern. “Any ideas?”
“A few might be stress-induced suicides, but even then...where’re the bodies?” he said. “We’re looking into it. But I wanted to keep you appraised of the situation; let me know if you hear of similar incidents.”
She pointed out, “You should be making this report to Zarek. He’s still president for three more days until the Quorum meets.”
He shifted closer on the sofa. “Exactly. You’re not technically president yet, you know.”
The air left her lungs. She stared at his hand, strong and pale, curled around her chair’s arm. “No,” she said carefully, rapidly parsing ‘We can’t do this anymore’ until she could justify giving in one more time.
She’d made herself a lot of promises in a few short moments while staring at the approaching Centurion firing squad--If I only survive; if I only get away from here. Not high-minded wishes for peace and harmony, but greedy, shallow wants like hot fudge sundaes and a real bath, with gardenias floating in the water. Well, there was no ice cream or bathtubs anymore, but Bill Adama was only six inches away.
“Not for three more days. And nights,” he murmured, and she cut her eyes at him, but he didn’t back down. He shifted another inch closer on the sofa and she wondered if he was going to crawl into the chair with her.
“I suppose...” she said slowly, frantically trying to formulate a retreat; to find even a shred of strength and resolve. “But I still have a lot of paperwork to sort through...”
He controlled himself admirably, even as his neck reddened. “Surely you can spare an hour or two here and there,” he suggested. “I can.”
She shook her head, the debate now a Quorum level shouting match in her head. “This may be unwise. The more you do something, the harder the habit is to break.”
His voice became urgent and huskier. “Think of it as a transition. I missed you, Laura--“ She had to look at him, pressing her lips together, vexed. “I thought of you every day, worried, feared--“
She had to make him stop. “Yes, yes,” she agreed, clutching her hands to the chair arms, close enough to touch, but not.
“Yes, what?” he said, suddenly nonchalant.
“Yes...I missed you too.” This was vast understatement, but she was desperately trying to redefine their boundaries.
He took off his glasses, putting them aside. “Good,” he said with enough satisfaction to slightly piss her off.
I should stay?” she said, a bit stiff.
“Yes, for as long as you like,” he said, licking his lips.
She squeezed her knees together. “I suppose I could stay for a bit. Tory sleeps like a log.”
He reached for his tunic buttons.
“Do you have a spare toothbrush I can use?” she asked, pushing up from the chair with a slight grunt.
“Sure,” he said, a bit puzzled, already to the bottom of his tunic from his frenzied unbottoning.
“And a spare tee shirt?”
“What for?” he asked, causing her to stop and look back at him.
Hands on hips, she explained patiently, “I’m not seventeen anymore, Bill Adama. I don’t want a five minute frak on my parents couch, leaving a stain that I have to explain later. I’ve had a long, grubby day sorting through files, clearing soiled panties from behind every piece of furniture in Colonial One, and finally having Tom Zarek pour an oil slick on me.
I want to brush my teeth and wash my face and I like to keep spit off my breasts--” his quivering lips caused her to add, “for now. Then I want to get into that rack with you and make love. So, a tee shirt?”
End (2/4) Chapter 3>>
Rating: MA (This chapter rated T)
Word Count: 1,400
Summary: There’s only a few days left until Roslin assumes the presidency again.
Episode Setting: Collaborators
Series: Love in a Time of War: 3
Laura entered Adama’s quarters carefully. He was finishing up a call, waving her to sit down. She chose the armchair over the sofa, her stomach tight.
But he smiled at her as he came around, offered her a drink that she declined. He splashed a few inches in his glass, and sank down near her on the sofa, his eyes bright with interest. “How’d it go with Zarek?”
She smiled too, relaxing. “Pretty well, I thought. Of course he wanted something in exchange for abdicating.”
“Of course,” Bill said, shaking his head, sipping his drink.
“I’ve offered him the vice-presidency,” she said, watching Adama.
His jaw locked, but he didn’t meet her eyes. He asked, “Why?”
Still smiling, she said, “Once he saw that Baltar was going to collude with the Cylons, he stood up to them, and wound up in detention for his trouble...ending up facing a firing squad--“
She had to stop, smile gone, her lips pursing, and Bill’s brow furrowed in concern. “Laura--“
She slipped her glasses off, tucking them away. Ignoring him, she said, “I realize that he can be dangerous--“
“Can be?” Adama drained his glass, rising to go for more.
“It’s politics, Bill.” His first name hung in the air; should she have said Admiral?
“Exactly. “I don’t care if Zarek was right in the heat of battle for the insurgency; that war is over. He will not play nice in the political arena,” he said, returning to the couch.
“Of course,” she said with an impatient sigh. “That’s why I have to keep him close enough to watch.”
“That worked out so well with Baltar as your vice-president,” he pointed out.
“I didn’t realize how dangerous he was at the time--“
“You suspected him as a Cylon collaborator!”
“I mean politically dangerous. Capable of turning people away from my administration.” She explained, “If I don’t give Tom this, he’ll be working furiously behind my back. Now his office will be right on the other side of the curtain--“
Bill hissed into his glass, puzzling her. He put it down before saying, “My mother and sister were killed by a terrorist. By a man very much like Zarek, that others thought was right and justified. I am very aware just how dangerous he is.”
Laura saw the flash of a suicide bomber exploding her pack, watched Cylons and humans alike tossed in the air like ragdolls. Her mouth was dry; she wished that she had that drink now.
“I didn’t know that,” she whispered. She was disturbed that there was so much they don’t know about each other. Were they just comfort in a storm so that details didn’t matter? Or were they defining what a relationship was in this new way of living?
He shrugged. “It was a long time ago; it’s not important now.”
She pressed, “How is it not? There must be many things I don’t know about your past life,” even as she feared him turning this around on her.
“It feels like a past life--lived by another man.” He rested his head on the sofa back and stared at the ceiling. “Like I said, it’s not important.”
Frustrated, she asked, “Does Lee know? He respects that frakker.”
“No.”
“Why the hell not?” Somewhere along the line, the questioning had turned around, and her blood was pounding for another reason.
“I didn’t think my sons should hate as I have.” He looked at her now. “I can be political too, sometimes.”
She leaned back in her chair, staring down at her hands kneading her skirt. The loss of her family had made her emotionally distant, gun-shy to love, no matter how hard she tried to intellectualize herself out of it. Yet he’d married, had children, despite a similar experience. How could one be so affected and another move on?
Or had he? She thought of the warmth in his eyes as he looked on Kara, Dee, Sharon, Cally--she’d never felt a moment of jealousy and now she knew why. It was the love of a big brother, now father. The lost promise of his sister would live on in the succession of bright young women who he could nurture and encourage. He loved too hard, turned a blind eye to hurtful, even destructive behavior, always looking for another little girl to protect.
“You’re going to have to trust me on this call,” she finally said.
He nodded once. “Okay. But don’t forget to ask for backup when he starts the push-back.”
She quirked a smile and dipped her head in reply.
Adama had apparently moved on from Zarek. “Lee came to me with a disturbing report,” he told her. “Crewmembers are disappearing, and it’s not just errors in the rolls. It’s people even I’ve seen since the exodus.”
She leaned forward with concern. “Any ideas?”
“A few might be stress-induced suicides, but even then...where’re the bodies?” he said. “We’re looking into it. But I wanted to keep you appraised of the situation; let me know if you hear of similar incidents.”
She pointed out, “You should be making this report to Zarek. He’s still president for three more days until the Quorum meets.”
He shifted closer on the sofa. “Exactly. You’re not technically president yet, you know.”
The air left her lungs. She stared at his hand, strong and pale, curled around her chair’s arm. “No,” she said carefully, rapidly parsing ‘We can’t do this anymore’ until she could justify giving in one more time.
She’d made herself a lot of promises in a few short moments while staring at the approaching Centurion firing squad--If I only survive; if I only get away from here. Not high-minded wishes for peace and harmony, but greedy, shallow wants like hot fudge sundaes and a real bath, with gardenias floating in the water. Well, there was no ice cream or bathtubs anymore, but Bill Adama was only six inches away.
“Not for three more days. And nights,” he murmured, and she cut her eyes at him, but he didn’t back down. He shifted another inch closer on the sofa and she wondered if he was going to crawl into the chair with her.
“I suppose...” she said slowly, frantically trying to formulate a retreat; to find even a shred of strength and resolve. “But I still have a lot of paperwork to sort through...”
He controlled himself admirably, even as his neck reddened. “Surely you can spare an hour or two here and there,” he suggested. “I can.”
She shook her head, the debate now a Quorum level shouting match in her head. “This may be unwise. The more you do something, the harder the habit is to break.”
His voice became urgent and huskier. “Think of it as a transition. I missed you, Laura--“ She had to look at him, pressing her lips together, vexed. “I thought of you every day, worried, feared--“
She had to make him stop. “Yes, yes,” she agreed, clutching her hands to the chair arms, close enough to touch, but not.
“Yes, what?” he said, suddenly nonchalant.
“Yes...I missed you too.” This was vast understatement, but she was desperately trying to redefine their boundaries.
He took off his glasses, putting them aside. “Good,” he said with enough satisfaction to slightly piss her off.
I should stay?” she said, a bit stiff.
“Yes, for as long as you like,” he said, licking his lips.
She squeezed her knees together. “I suppose I could stay for a bit. Tory sleeps like a log.”
He reached for his tunic buttons.
“Do you have a spare toothbrush I can use?” she asked, pushing up from the chair with a slight grunt.
“Sure,” he said, a bit puzzled, already to the bottom of his tunic from his frenzied unbottoning.
“And a spare tee shirt?”
“What for?” he asked, causing her to stop and look back at him.
Hands on hips, she explained patiently, “I’m not seventeen anymore, Bill Adama. I don’t want a five minute frak on my parents couch, leaving a stain that I have to explain later. I’ve had a long, grubby day sorting through files, clearing soiled panties from behind every piece of furniture in Colonial One, and finally having Tom Zarek pour an oil slick on me.
I want to brush my teeth and wash my face and I like to keep spit off my breasts--” his quivering lips caused her to add, “for now. Then I want to get into that rack with you and make love. So, a tee shirt?”
End (2/4) Chapter 3>>