BSG04: William Adama, 040. Sight
Title: The Commander's Eyes
Author: Karihan
Fandom: Battlestar Galactica '04
Character: William Adama, with Laura Roslin and Billy Keikeya
Prompt: 040. Sight
Word Count: 1824
Rating: G
Summary: You can see what William Adama is feeling, if you look in the right place.
Notes: Through Resurrection Ship part 2
Billy Keikeya was nothing if not observant.
It was an occupational necessity. Dealing with politics and politicians, especially Cabinet-level politicians, required the ability to observe and read people. Inexperienced as he was, Billy had that ability. He just hadn't expected to have to use it in the fight for the survival of the human race, was all.
Nonetheless when he got his abrupt field promotion from aide to the Secretary of Education to chief aide to the President of the Twelve Colonies, he threw himself into being the best assistant he could possibly be. Laura Roslin needed his support, all he could possibly give, and he based that support on watching her.
He got to know her "tells", little shifts in posture and expression that gave clues to her thoughts, and used those in turn to anticipate her needs. The report on fuel supplies, a direct line to the Quorum, a cup of tea ... he got things for her, usually before she realized they were wanted. He prided himself that he could predict what the President was thinking on a given subject about eight times out of ten. Of course, those ninth and tenth times were usually surprises on the order of a sledgehammer between the eyes, but still.
If only he could develop that same knack where the Commander was concerned.
It seemed to Billy that no matter the situation, William Adama's posture remained composed. Military. And as for his expression, its changes were subtle and elusive at the best of times. During crisis moments, those moments when Billy most wanted some kind of read on what was going through the Commander's mind, that craggy face would turn immobile as weathered stone. But still Billy watched, and he learned, and eventually realization came. Trying to pinpoint what Galactica's CO was thinking at any particular moment was an exercise in frustration, but there was a way to gauge what he was feeling.
You had to look in his eyes.
Not the easiest thing to do, by any means, since looking into the Commander's eyes often meant that he was looking into yours at the same time. Gauging as he was being gauged, with a deeply unsettling stare of measurement. Billy persevered, though, because even when Adama's face went still as marble, his eyes remained eloquent.
******
Soon after Colonial Day, his universe went to hell for the second time. A military coup -- Billy had never more desperately wanted an answer to the question What the frak is the Commander thinking?! nor been less likely to get one. He'd quietly inserted himself onto the shuttle bearing President Roslin to Galactica and once there went as unobtrusive as he possibly could. He'd do the President no good if he got tossed into a cell with her. With that in mind he hung back when Roslin was conducted into the brig itself, and ducked into a cross corridor when Adama arrived moments later.
Edging closer to the hatch to hear what was said proved fruitless; no words were exchanged between the two, only orders from Adama to his Marines. Billy was straining so hard to overhear things that weren't even being said that the Commander's sudden exit took him by surprise. Caught before he could find any kind of concealment, he was pinned in place by Adama's gaze.
Billy's gut congealed at what he saw in those blue depths. Rage. Not bright-burning, but chill and implacable, enough to make him shiver. But even as he watched, the rage faded, became ... something else. Analysis? Billy once again had the sense of being weighed and measured, and wondered if he was for the brig after all.
Instead the Commander strode on, freeing Billy to duck back behind the hatch as Colonel Tigh made his exit. The encounter had only taken a second or two, and he was left wondering exactly what it meant, especially when he entered the brig to find himself largely ignored by the Marine guard present. Did Adama just consider him too inconsequential to imprison? Was he allowing the incarcerated President some measure of dignity by leaving her aide with a certain amount of freedom? Or was there some deeper meaning?
Less than an hour later, a blood-drenched Lee Adama was escorted in under guard, bearing the news that his father had been shot.
******
Adama's eyes kept their secrets from everyone while he lay in a coma. Billy greeted the news that he'd awoken and resumed command with mixed relief and resignation, fully expecting a Marine or two to appear with orders to lock him up. Instead he got Dee, her eyes soft with concern as she told him that the Commander had detailed a Raptor to take him to Cloud Nine.
"Putting the out-of-work politicians in one place, is he?" he asked her. Most of the suspended government, of course, had jumped with the President, as had Colonial One.
"This whole thing ... both Starbuck and his son committing mutiny ... it's wounded him worse than the bullets. But I don't think he's even talking to Colonel Tigh." Dee's teeth caught briefly at her lower lip as her tone turned apologetic. "He's made it clear he doesn't want you on his ship, anyway. I'm sorry, Billy."
So some days later, when Lt. Edmondson showed up to inform him that the Commander requested his assistance with a vital mission concerning President Roslin-- and she did say President Roslin --his surprise was considerable. When he returned with her to her Raptor to find the Old Man himself seated in the back, wearing fatigues and generally looking like he meant business, the surprise ballooned into stunned amazement.
Adama gestured him into the seat opposite his. It was to be a rescue mission, four people to rescue a third of the fleet from Kobol. Billy studied the Commander's eyes as he listened, finding no rage, no wounds. Instead the blue reflected the oddest blend of serenity ... and determination. When he sucked up his courage and asked straight out what had changed the Commander's mind, he saw a gleam of outright amusement.
But Adama said only, "Your girlfriend can be very persuasive," and left him chewing over that for a while.
Out of all their time on Kobol, Billy wound up with three especially vivid memories. The first was the look of astonished joy on the President's-- on Laura's --face when she first saw him. The second was of course the Tomb of Athena and the surreal events that showed them the map to Earth.
The third was born of a small thing, tiny really. When he'd finally exited the Tomb, Billy had glanced back to watch the two leaders as they were crossing the antechamber. Adama slipped a hand under Roslin's arm to guide her around one of the larger pieces of rubble. Her smile, shining with relief and vindication, took on an additional gleam of amusement at his chivalry. Amusement shaded with ... something warmer.
Adama, on the other hand, radiated a certainty that said Yes. This is where I belong.
******
That certainty infused their dealings from then on. From the moment Adama led a slow clap at Roslin's reinstatement, no one in the fleet was left in any doubt that the President and Admiral worked as one now. Billy watched their understanding, so carefully pieced together, strengthen as they faced Cylons, the press and the fleet's ongoing issues. Hard-won mutual respect deepened into regard, friendship, even ... Billy hesitated to put a name to what he saw in their faces, but affection surely wasn't too strong a word. Whatever it was, he was grateful for it, especially as the President's illness worsened.
When Helena Cain arrived, determined to rip apart all that they'd built, they were ready.
Seated in the President's outer office, he couldn't make out the words they spoke, back in her private quarters. All he could hear was the quiet rise and fall of their voices, punctuated once by Laura's racking cough. But he knew they were discussing Cain. The President had told Billy only a couple of hours previous that she refused to die if it meant leaving the fleet's future and the Commander's life in the hands of that woman.
When Adama appeared in the door to her quarters, the same quiet steel in those earlier words resonated in her voice, which carried clearly to Billy's ears. "Commander. She won't hesitate to kill you. Don't let her."
Adama, who'd paused in the doorway in acknowledgment, answered her with a long look. He turned to leave, only to pause again by the young aide's desk. Looking up into the eyes of the grave, uniformed man before him, Billy felt his throat tighten at what he saw there.
Pain. Loss. The anticipation of a heart-piercing grief that would find no outward expression ... all veiled by a shimmer of tears.
Billy spoke on impulse, offering the only comfort he could. "I'll look after her, Commander. She won't be alone for a minute."
A glimmer of warmth shone through, easing the desolation. Adama's hand landed on his shoulder in a brief, firm clasp. "Good man." And then he was gone.
A little while later, Billy went to check on the President, expecting to find her asleep. He found her with eyes open, staring distractedly at the ceiling before she turned her gaze to him. "Billy," she murmured, gesturing him closer. When he sat by her bed, she clasped his hand in hers before continuing.
"This may sound ... like an odd request ..." Laura's voice sounded low and weak again; her breath rasped. "But ... you'll keep an eye on him, won't you? After I--" A short cough and a faint laugh interrupted her. "I know it sounds silly, but ..."
No need to ask what him she meant. Billy thought about a grip on his shoulder, two gruffly-spoken words ... and the connection he felt with the only other man in the fleet who cared as much as he did about the woman Laura Roslin, rather than the icon of the President. No, her request didn't sound silly at all.
"Of course I will, Madam President."
"Good." A sweetly relieved smile crossed her face as she squeezed his hand. "Then in that capacity, I have a job for you ..."
Hashing out the details took only minutes and a check on a couple of points of Colonial military law, but that was enough to exhaust her meager reserves of energy. Mindful of his promise to the Commander, he sat by her until she was sound asleep. Only then did he adjourn to the office to look up their lists of occupations formerly held by the fleet's survivors.
Picturing the look in the Commander-- no, best to start thinking of him as the Admiral --picturing the look he'd have in his eyes when the President handed him a small box tomorrow, Billy set himself to track down a jeweler.
FIN
Author: Karihan
Fandom: Battlestar Galactica '04
Character: William Adama, with Laura Roslin and Billy Keikeya
Prompt: 040. Sight
Word Count: 1824
Rating: G
Summary: You can see what William Adama is feeling, if you look in the right place.
Notes: Through Resurrection Ship part 2
Billy Keikeya was nothing if not observant.
It was an occupational necessity. Dealing with politics and politicians, especially Cabinet-level politicians, required the ability to observe and read people. Inexperienced as he was, Billy had that ability. He just hadn't expected to have to use it in the fight for the survival of the human race, was all.
Nonetheless when he got his abrupt field promotion from aide to the Secretary of Education to chief aide to the President of the Twelve Colonies, he threw himself into being the best assistant he could possibly be. Laura Roslin needed his support, all he could possibly give, and he based that support on watching her.
He got to know her "tells", little shifts in posture and expression that gave clues to her thoughts, and used those in turn to anticipate her needs. The report on fuel supplies, a direct line to the Quorum, a cup of tea ... he got things for her, usually before she realized they were wanted. He prided himself that he could predict what the President was thinking on a given subject about eight times out of ten. Of course, those ninth and tenth times were usually surprises on the order of a sledgehammer between the eyes, but still.
If only he could develop that same knack where the Commander was concerned.
It seemed to Billy that no matter the situation, William Adama's posture remained composed. Military. And as for his expression, its changes were subtle and elusive at the best of times. During crisis moments, those moments when Billy most wanted some kind of read on what was going through the Commander's mind, that craggy face would turn immobile as weathered stone. But still Billy watched, and he learned, and eventually realization came. Trying to pinpoint what Galactica's CO was thinking at any particular moment was an exercise in frustration, but there was a way to gauge what he was feeling.
You had to look in his eyes.
Not the easiest thing to do, by any means, since looking into the Commander's eyes often meant that he was looking into yours at the same time. Gauging as he was being gauged, with a deeply unsettling stare of measurement. Billy persevered, though, because even when Adama's face went still as marble, his eyes remained eloquent.
******
Soon after Colonial Day, his universe went to hell for the second time. A military coup -- Billy had never more desperately wanted an answer to the question What the frak is the Commander thinking?! nor been less likely to get one. He'd quietly inserted himself onto the shuttle bearing President Roslin to Galactica and once there went as unobtrusive as he possibly could. He'd do the President no good if he got tossed into a cell with her. With that in mind he hung back when Roslin was conducted into the brig itself, and ducked into a cross corridor when Adama arrived moments later.
Edging closer to the hatch to hear what was said proved fruitless; no words were exchanged between the two, only orders from Adama to his Marines. Billy was straining so hard to overhear things that weren't even being said that the Commander's sudden exit took him by surprise. Caught before he could find any kind of concealment, he was pinned in place by Adama's gaze.
Billy's gut congealed at what he saw in those blue depths. Rage. Not bright-burning, but chill and implacable, enough to make him shiver. But even as he watched, the rage faded, became ... something else. Analysis? Billy once again had the sense of being weighed and measured, and wondered if he was for the brig after all.
Instead the Commander strode on, freeing Billy to duck back behind the hatch as Colonel Tigh made his exit. The encounter had only taken a second or two, and he was left wondering exactly what it meant, especially when he entered the brig to find himself largely ignored by the Marine guard present. Did Adama just consider him too inconsequential to imprison? Was he allowing the incarcerated President some measure of dignity by leaving her aide with a certain amount of freedom? Or was there some deeper meaning?
Less than an hour later, a blood-drenched Lee Adama was escorted in under guard, bearing the news that his father had been shot.
******
Adama's eyes kept their secrets from everyone while he lay in a coma. Billy greeted the news that he'd awoken and resumed command with mixed relief and resignation, fully expecting a Marine or two to appear with orders to lock him up. Instead he got Dee, her eyes soft with concern as she told him that the Commander had detailed a Raptor to take him to Cloud Nine.
"Putting the out-of-work politicians in one place, is he?" he asked her. Most of the suspended government, of course, had jumped with the President, as had Colonial One.
"This whole thing ... both Starbuck and his son committing mutiny ... it's wounded him worse than the bullets. But I don't think he's even talking to Colonel Tigh." Dee's teeth caught briefly at her lower lip as her tone turned apologetic. "He's made it clear he doesn't want you on his ship, anyway. I'm sorry, Billy."
So some days later, when Lt. Edmondson showed up to inform him that the Commander requested his assistance with a vital mission concerning President Roslin-- and she did say President Roslin --his surprise was considerable. When he returned with her to her Raptor to find the Old Man himself seated in the back, wearing fatigues and generally looking like he meant business, the surprise ballooned into stunned amazement.
Adama gestured him into the seat opposite his. It was to be a rescue mission, four people to rescue a third of the fleet from Kobol. Billy studied the Commander's eyes as he listened, finding no rage, no wounds. Instead the blue reflected the oddest blend of serenity ... and determination. When he sucked up his courage and asked straight out what had changed the Commander's mind, he saw a gleam of outright amusement.
But Adama said only, "Your girlfriend can be very persuasive," and left him chewing over that for a while.
Out of all their time on Kobol, Billy wound up with three especially vivid memories. The first was the look of astonished joy on the President's-- on Laura's --face when she first saw him. The second was of course the Tomb of Athena and the surreal events that showed them the map to Earth.
The third was born of a small thing, tiny really. When he'd finally exited the Tomb, Billy had glanced back to watch the two leaders as they were crossing the antechamber. Adama slipped a hand under Roslin's arm to guide her around one of the larger pieces of rubble. Her smile, shining with relief and vindication, took on an additional gleam of amusement at his chivalry. Amusement shaded with ... something warmer.
Adama, on the other hand, radiated a certainty that said Yes. This is where I belong.
******
That certainty infused their dealings from then on. From the moment Adama led a slow clap at Roslin's reinstatement, no one in the fleet was left in any doubt that the President and Admiral worked as one now. Billy watched their understanding, so carefully pieced together, strengthen as they faced Cylons, the press and the fleet's ongoing issues. Hard-won mutual respect deepened into regard, friendship, even ... Billy hesitated to put a name to what he saw in their faces, but affection surely wasn't too strong a word. Whatever it was, he was grateful for it, especially as the President's illness worsened.
When Helena Cain arrived, determined to rip apart all that they'd built, they were ready.
Seated in the President's outer office, he couldn't make out the words they spoke, back in her private quarters. All he could hear was the quiet rise and fall of their voices, punctuated once by Laura's racking cough. But he knew they were discussing Cain. The President had told Billy only a couple of hours previous that she refused to die if it meant leaving the fleet's future and the Commander's life in the hands of that woman.
When Adama appeared in the door to her quarters, the same quiet steel in those earlier words resonated in her voice, which carried clearly to Billy's ears. "Commander. She won't hesitate to kill you. Don't let her."
Adama, who'd paused in the doorway in acknowledgment, answered her with a long look. He turned to leave, only to pause again by the young aide's desk. Looking up into the eyes of the grave, uniformed man before him, Billy felt his throat tighten at what he saw there.
Pain. Loss. The anticipation of a heart-piercing grief that would find no outward expression ... all veiled by a shimmer of tears.
Billy spoke on impulse, offering the only comfort he could. "I'll look after her, Commander. She won't be alone for a minute."
A glimmer of warmth shone through, easing the desolation. Adama's hand landed on his shoulder in a brief, firm clasp. "Good man." And then he was gone.
A little while later, Billy went to check on the President, expecting to find her asleep. He found her with eyes open, staring distractedly at the ceiling before she turned her gaze to him. "Billy," she murmured, gesturing him closer. When he sat by her bed, she clasped his hand in hers before continuing.
"This may sound ... like an odd request ..." Laura's voice sounded low and weak again; her breath rasped. "But ... you'll keep an eye on him, won't you? After I--" A short cough and a faint laugh interrupted her. "I know it sounds silly, but ..."
No need to ask what him she meant. Billy thought about a grip on his shoulder, two gruffly-spoken words ... and the connection he felt with the only other man in the fleet who cared as much as he did about the woman Laura Roslin, rather than the icon of the President. No, her request didn't sound silly at all.
"Of course I will, Madam President."
"Good." A sweetly relieved smile crossed her face as she squeezed his hand. "Then in that capacity, I have a job for you ..."
Hashing out the details took only minutes and a check on a couple of points of Colonial military law, but that was enough to exhaust her meager reserves of energy. Mindful of his promise to the Commander, he sat by her until she was sound asleep. Only then did he adjourn to the office to look up their lists of occupations formerly held by the fleet's survivors.
Picturing the look in the Commander-- no, best to start thinking of him as the Admiral --picturing the look he'd have in his eyes when the President handed him a small box tomorrow, Billy set himself to track down a jeweler.
FIN