I Don't Wanna Love You
Part two of my Drapple series, Breathe. As always, standard disclaimers apply.
You can find the first part, entitled Leave Me Be, here:
http://dr-roslin.livejournal.com/1905.html
She sighed into his shoulder, and, if anything, his arms tightened around her.
I will not cry, I will not cry.
Thankfully, his shoulders were broad. He’d been helping shoulder her burdens since the day they’d met. He could shoulder some of her heartache, too.
‘It’s okay, I’ve got you.’
She took a deep breath, steadying herself. It’ll be okay. He was strong, he was fit. He’d be okay.
He wouldn’t die on her.
Morbid, she knows, but she wasn’t in the greatest of places right now.
‘You know I’m dying, right?’
Even in his quarters, she was cold the moment she stepped out of his arms. Sighing, she looked up at him as she settled into her new favorite place, his couch, and he wrapped a warm blanket around her.
Adamas. Always prepared.
She wondered if he realized how much he touched her. Their contact couldn’t be seen as inappropriate, even in public. A hand at the small of her back to direct her, a hand at her elbow to steady her, an arm extended to escort her.
Independently these actions might seem simply like acts of kindness extended to an old friend and colleague, especially one who had a serious medical condition.
Collectively they screamed intimacy.
‘Bill, we have to talk about this.’
This was, after all, the reason she’d scheduled this meeting. Transition. Medical science was doing all it could to hopefully save her life, certainly at least prolong it. But still, they had to talk about it.
He continued to pace around the room. He looked at the drink cart, but barely paused.
She laughed bitterly. ‘I mean, it’s even in the name. The Dying Leader. The gods had a sense of humor when they decided on my destiny.’
‘Frak the gods.’
She looked at him, shocked. She knew he didn’t believe in the gods, he’d always been clear on that, but he’d also always been so careful to respect that others did. It’s one of the reasons she was haunted by the fight they’d had regarding Kara’s return. He’d always respected her faith, and then she’d used his uncertainties regarding his own to mock him. Of course, he’d fought dirty too, used her most deep-seated fears against her, hurt her badly. But that was part of their dynamic; he didn’t pull his punches with her. They were equally matched. And they trusted each other enough to find a way to forgive. Overcome their differences. Still, the brutality of that fight haunted her.
‘Ok…’
‘You’re not going anywhere.’
Arguments aside, she wondered if he realized just how protective of her he was. Probably not. Or, if he did, he probably justified it as just part of his duties; ensuring the well-being of the President of the Colonies. She sighed. Still always the President. She wondered if he ever thought of her as just ‘Laura’. Still, it was nice to have someone around who wanted to take care of her, even if she didn’t always need it.
‘And frak your destiny, Laura. You are going to fight, and we are going to find earth, and you are going to be there with us.’
She looked up at him once more. ‘It’s just, after Kobol, I thought you had decided that you believed in some of it. The Tomb of Athena, the map, etc.’
‘I believe in you. I’ve always believed in you.’
She couldn’t keep from smiling, but it twisted her face and came out wry.
His answering smile was equally sad. ‘No, really. Kobol just made it easier.’
He adjusted the blanket, tucking her in as she smiled at him, finding it easier to give him a real smile this time. She leaned her head back against the edge of the couch. Maybe she’d just stay here. Simply cocoon herself in and never leave.
She wondered if he realized how attuned they were to one another. After Kobol, after Cain, they’d grown incredibly close, day by day. Still, they maintained a sense of professional distance, unconsciously shying away from anything too intimate, even if they both sensed they wanted it. New Caprica had stripped those shields from them. She'd held no public office, and if the Fall of the Colonies had taught them anything, it was to embrace the moment. Though they hadn’t been intimate, it was clearly a question of when, and not if.
They couldn’t back away from that, even if sometimes he tried. She didn’t bother. She didn’t believe in lying to herself or to those she cared for. In any case, subconsciously their bodies always betrayed them. It wasn’t an accident that her feet never touched the ground when they met alone; they were always curled up under her. Personal space ceased to exist for them. She treated his quarters as her own, and her security detail retreated when he met with her on Colonial One. It wasn’t unusual for her to use his rack when she needed it, which she increasingly did, and his couch had become her new favorite place.
So. She would enjoy his company and his family. She would enjoy his warmth. She would enjoy him. She would take whatever warmth, whatever strength, whatever life, he could pour into her.
It didn’t necessarily mean she loved him.
No.
It didn’t necessarily mean he loved her.
No.
Love made you vulnerable.
She wouldn’t do that to him.
He might have dropped his distance. Might have dropped the shields he had tried to put up between them after New Caprica.
She would build her own. Be strong.
When, no, if, the cancer took her, she would have to leave him.
She wouldn’t leave him vulnerable.
She wouldn’t leave him bleeding.
She would be strong.
Even while it killed her.
You can find the first part, entitled Leave Me Be, here:
http://dr-roslin.livejournal.com/1905.html
She sighed into his shoulder, and, if anything, his arms tightened around her.
I will not cry, I will not cry.
Thankfully, his shoulders were broad. He’d been helping shoulder her burdens since the day they’d met. He could shoulder some of her heartache, too.
‘It’s okay, I’ve got you.’
She took a deep breath, steadying herself. It’ll be okay. He was strong, he was fit. He’d be okay.
He wouldn’t die on her.
Morbid, she knows, but she wasn’t in the greatest of places right now.
‘You know I’m dying, right?’
Even in his quarters, she was cold the moment she stepped out of his arms. Sighing, she looked up at him as she settled into her new favorite place, his couch, and he wrapped a warm blanket around her.
Adamas. Always prepared.
She wondered if he realized how much he touched her. Their contact couldn’t be seen as inappropriate, even in public. A hand at the small of her back to direct her, a hand at her elbow to steady her, an arm extended to escort her.
Independently these actions might seem simply like acts of kindness extended to an old friend and colleague, especially one who had a serious medical condition.
Collectively they screamed intimacy.
‘Bill, we have to talk about this.’
This was, after all, the reason she’d scheduled this meeting. Transition. Medical science was doing all it could to hopefully save her life, certainly at least prolong it. But still, they had to talk about it.
He continued to pace around the room. He looked at the drink cart, but barely paused.
She laughed bitterly. ‘I mean, it’s even in the name. The Dying Leader. The gods had a sense of humor when they decided on my destiny.’
‘Frak the gods.’
She looked at him, shocked. She knew he didn’t believe in the gods, he’d always been clear on that, but he’d also always been so careful to respect that others did. It’s one of the reasons she was haunted by the fight they’d had regarding Kara’s return. He’d always respected her faith, and then she’d used his uncertainties regarding his own to mock him. Of course, he’d fought dirty too, used her most deep-seated fears against her, hurt her badly. But that was part of their dynamic; he didn’t pull his punches with her. They were equally matched. And they trusted each other enough to find a way to forgive. Overcome their differences. Still, the brutality of that fight haunted her.
‘Ok…’
‘You’re not going anywhere.’
Arguments aside, she wondered if he realized just how protective of her he was. Probably not. Or, if he did, he probably justified it as just part of his duties; ensuring the well-being of the President of the Colonies. She sighed. Still always the President. She wondered if he ever thought of her as just ‘Laura’. Still, it was nice to have someone around who wanted to take care of her, even if she didn’t always need it.
‘And frak your destiny, Laura. You are going to fight, and we are going to find earth, and you are going to be there with us.’
She looked up at him once more. ‘It’s just, after Kobol, I thought you had decided that you believed in some of it. The Tomb of Athena, the map, etc.’
‘I believe in you. I’ve always believed in you.’
She couldn’t keep from smiling, but it twisted her face and came out wry.
His answering smile was equally sad. ‘No, really. Kobol just made it easier.’
He adjusted the blanket, tucking her in as she smiled at him, finding it easier to give him a real smile this time. She leaned her head back against the edge of the couch. Maybe she’d just stay here. Simply cocoon herself in and never leave.
She wondered if he realized how attuned they were to one another. After Kobol, after Cain, they’d grown incredibly close, day by day. Still, they maintained a sense of professional distance, unconsciously shying away from anything too intimate, even if they both sensed they wanted it. New Caprica had stripped those shields from them. She'd held no public office, and if the Fall of the Colonies had taught them anything, it was to embrace the moment. Though they hadn’t been intimate, it was clearly a question of when, and not if.
They couldn’t back away from that, even if sometimes he tried. She didn’t bother. She didn’t believe in lying to herself or to those she cared for. In any case, subconsciously their bodies always betrayed them. It wasn’t an accident that her feet never touched the ground when they met alone; they were always curled up under her. Personal space ceased to exist for them. She treated his quarters as her own, and her security detail retreated when he met with her on Colonial One. It wasn’t unusual for her to use his rack when she needed it, which she increasingly did, and his couch had become her new favorite place.
So. She would enjoy his company and his family. She would enjoy his warmth. She would enjoy him. She would take whatever warmth, whatever strength, whatever life, he could pour into her.
It didn’t necessarily mean she loved him.
No.
It didn’t necessarily mean he loved her.
No.
Love made you vulnerable.
She wouldn’t do that to him.
He might have dropped his distance. Might have dropped the shields he had tried to put up between them after New Caprica.
She would build her own. Be strong.
When, no, if, the cancer took her, she would have to leave him.
She wouldn’t leave him vulnerable.
She wouldn’t leave him bleeding.
She would be strong.
Even while it killed her.