Fic: The Nymphs (Other Times)
Title: The Nymphs
Series: Other Times
Rating: K+
Summary: What 'other times' was Bill talking about when he spoke to Laura of their night together on New Caprica? Spoilers through A Day In The Life (Season 3).
Hopefully this will be the first of many installments.
Laura: Like that night on New Caprica, that's really what we are talking about here now, isn't it?
Bill: That, and... Other times...
** The Nymphs **
Bill moved quickly over the rough ground. He had less than an hour before his shuttle was due to depart for Galactica, and he had no wish to provoke yet another argument with Baltar by overstaying his welcome on the surface. The President preferred that he make himself scarce, lest the citizens of New Caprica become confused over the proper chain of command, now that the thrill of solid ground beneath their feet had given way to the harsh realities of settlement on this barren rock. He didn’t feel much moved by the regretful stares and rueful nods now cast in his direction during his infrequent visits. This had been their choice, not his. They had been warned.
As he wiped a bead of sweat from his brow and looked for the gnarled tree that marked the turn to the stream, he wondered how she could stand it, them. The frustration she must feel at their contrition, no doubt a daily offering placed at her feet, was surely unbearable. There had been a time when she had resigned herself to this place almost happily, but he knew that time was long since past. Now he only hoped to spend his last few minutes of time here today making her life better. That he had so little of it to offer her was his only regret for his virtual exile from this place.
He knew now he was close as he saw the brush line that ran along this little tributary. It was one of her favorite spots. He did not begrudge her this escape, but it was frustrating that she had not been at the school or her tent when he looked for her. He should have sent a message to her that he was coming planet-side so as to preserve every minute they might share this afternoon. Lucky at least that one of the settlers he encountered near the school had seen her head this direction.
He approached quietly from behind the ragged wind-bent brush, not wanting to admit to himself that the reason he did so was in hopes of catching her in an unguarded moment. He had so little of her to fill the lonely, stray moments of his day (growing more numerous with every repetitive orbit) that he greedily gathered and husbanded every remembered smile, laugh, or wistful nod that he could. From a short distance he saw her, and he stopped. She was not alone. On her hip she held a baby, bundled so well against the perpetual chill of this place that he could not tell if it was a boy or girl. The child rested its head against her breast, and then reached up to wind one of its little fists in her auburn hair, capturing a lock that looked as if it might fly away on the breeze and holding on to it tightly as if it was a treasure (he knew it was). She looked down at the little one and spoke to it softly, so softly he could not hear her, even on the wings of the wind that blew in his direction, but he knew her words were whispered tokens of deep and soothing affection. She dropped a series of gentle kisses upon the baby’s hooded head, rich black curls peeking out and threatening to tickle her lips, and then looked up and smiled at her two other companions.
With her was her one-time aide Tory, and another young woman he guessed was the baby’s mother. He’d seen her once before at the school when visiting Laura, and he assumed she taught there with her. The young mother skipped rocks on the stream, laughing and pointing out each splash to her child, as Laura echoed each gesture with a rock of the child against her chest and a turn of her hips so the child could see the rippling water better, while Tory tied a piece of string to what appeared to be a makeshift kite.
He wondered if such a sad and worn looking contraption could take flight. “Watch this Isis,” he heard Tory call as she began to run, the other young woman at her side as their boots splashed along the edge of the shallow rivulet. Astonishingly the kite flew, drawn higher and higher on the stiff currents. Laura chased them for a few steps and then stopped to point to the sky so that the child could find the bit of color streaming in the sky, sent to dance there just for its happiness. Soon the baby found it and released its hand from Laura’s curls to point with her to the sky. Little giggles (from them all) flew on the breeze, as the child then clapped its tiny hands and excitedly buried its head in Laura’s chest, to which she laughed in response and nuzzled the child’s head before urging it to look up once again to see the kite weave through the breeze. Higher it flew, watched by the women.
His heart felt peculiar at the sight, as if there was something here that he couldn’t quite understand, something that he could reach for but could not quite touch. He felt far away, a stranger to her, to them all. Perhaps the sadness and regret she felt in her heart for this harsh place was only in his own. He did not know whether to step forward or turn back (a question he had faced before with her). But there was a need in him, and what he’d seen here had made it even keener, even as it confused him. However, he was not bold, not in matters of the heart at least. As he questioned why even he had come today, Laura lifted the child above her head and began to spin her round - the child’s happy shrieks matching Laura’s own - and on her third circuit round she saw him.
He lifted a hand in an embarrassed wave as he stepped fully out from the brush line. She waved back to him after bringing the child back down to her hip, but she did not move to meet him. Instead she rested a protective hand over the baby’s head and called for her companions. Tory saw him and shoved the kite at her friend, moving quickly to Laura’s side as he approached and took the child from her and headed away as he reached them, moving back toward the girl’s mother (a girl he thought on this somewhat brief but closer inspection). Odd, but it did not register with him long, not when he looked then into Laura’s eyes and saw them shining back at him.
“It’s good to see you, Laura.”
“You too, Bill”
Always their greeting here. Always smiling.
“I was not expecting you today,” she told him.
“I know, and sadly I am already due to leave.” He offered her his arm. “Walk with me?”
She hooked her arm in his elbow gladly and they began to make their way back to the settlement, leaving the other women behind. After a few quiet moments, she asked him what he was thinking.
“Children become you, Laura,” he told her. “I guess that is why you are a teacher.”
She smiled back at him, but made no other reply. As they walked on in companionable silence, he kept the rest of his thoughts to himself. But he knew with Lee settled now there might be children before long. He hoped he’d be ready soon to make the necessary preparations for that happy someday. After all, his heart was already true, now it only needed to learn to be brave.
Series: Other Times
Rating: K+
Summary: What 'other times' was Bill talking about when he spoke to Laura of their night together on New Caprica? Spoilers through A Day In The Life (Season 3).
Hopefully this will be the first of many installments.
Laura: Like that night on New Caprica, that's really what we are talking about here now, isn't it?
Bill: That, and... Other times...
** The Nymphs **
Bill moved quickly over the rough ground. He had less than an hour before his shuttle was due to depart for Galactica, and he had no wish to provoke yet another argument with Baltar by overstaying his welcome on the surface. The President preferred that he make himself scarce, lest the citizens of New Caprica become confused over the proper chain of command, now that the thrill of solid ground beneath their feet had given way to the harsh realities of settlement on this barren rock. He didn’t feel much moved by the regretful stares and rueful nods now cast in his direction during his infrequent visits. This had been their choice, not his. They had been warned.
As he wiped a bead of sweat from his brow and looked for the gnarled tree that marked the turn to the stream, he wondered how she could stand it, them. The frustration she must feel at their contrition, no doubt a daily offering placed at her feet, was surely unbearable. There had been a time when she had resigned herself to this place almost happily, but he knew that time was long since past. Now he only hoped to spend his last few minutes of time here today making her life better. That he had so little of it to offer her was his only regret for his virtual exile from this place.
He knew now he was close as he saw the brush line that ran along this little tributary. It was one of her favorite spots. He did not begrudge her this escape, but it was frustrating that she had not been at the school or her tent when he looked for her. He should have sent a message to her that he was coming planet-side so as to preserve every minute they might share this afternoon. Lucky at least that one of the settlers he encountered near the school had seen her head this direction.
He approached quietly from behind the ragged wind-bent brush, not wanting to admit to himself that the reason he did so was in hopes of catching her in an unguarded moment. He had so little of her to fill the lonely, stray moments of his day (growing more numerous with every repetitive orbit) that he greedily gathered and husbanded every remembered smile, laugh, or wistful nod that he could. From a short distance he saw her, and he stopped. She was not alone. On her hip she held a baby, bundled so well against the perpetual chill of this place that he could not tell if it was a boy or girl. The child rested its head against her breast, and then reached up to wind one of its little fists in her auburn hair, capturing a lock that looked as if it might fly away on the breeze and holding on to it tightly as if it was a treasure (he knew it was). She looked down at the little one and spoke to it softly, so softly he could not hear her, even on the wings of the wind that blew in his direction, but he knew her words were whispered tokens of deep and soothing affection. She dropped a series of gentle kisses upon the baby’s hooded head, rich black curls peeking out and threatening to tickle her lips, and then looked up and smiled at her two other companions.
With her was her one-time aide Tory, and another young woman he guessed was the baby’s mother. He’d seen her once before at the school when visiting Laura, and he assumed she taught there with her. The young mother skipped rocks on the stream, laughing and pointing out each splash to her child, as Laura echoed each gesture with a rock of the child against her chest and a turn of her hips so the child could see the rippling water better, while Tory tied a piece of string to what appeared to be a makeshift kite.
He wondered if such a sad and worn looking contraption could take flight. “Watch this Isis,” he heard Tory call as she began to run, the other young woman at her side as their boots splashed along the edge of the shallow rivulet. Astonishingly the kite flew, drawn higher and higher on the stiff currents. Laura chased them for a few steps and then stopped to point to the sky so that the child could find the bit of color streaming in the sky, sent to dance there just for its happiness. Soon the baby found it and released its hand from Laura’s curls to point with her to the sky. Little giggles (from them all) flew on the breeze, as the child then clapped its tiny hands and excitedly buried its head in Laura’s chest, to which she laughed in response and nuzzled the child’s head before urging it to look up once again to see the kite weave through the breeze. Higher it flew, watched by the women.
His heart felt peculiar at the sight, as if there was something here that he couldn’t quite understand, something that he could reach for but could not quite touch. He felt far away, a stranger to her, to them all. Perhaps the sadness and regret she felt in her heart for this harsh place was only in his own. He did not know whether to step forward or turn back (a question he had faced before with her). But there was a need in him, and what he’d seen here had made it even keener, even as it confused him. However, he was not bold, not in matters of the heart at least. As he questioned why even he had come today, Laura lifted the child above her head and began to spin her round - the child’s happy shrieks matching Laura’s own - and on her third circuit round she saw him.
He lifted a hand in an embarrassed wave as he stepped fully out from the brush line. She waved back to him after bringing the child back down to her hip, but she did not move to meet him. Instead she rested a protective hand over the baby’s head and called for her companions. Tory saw him and shoved the kite at her friend, moving quickly to Laura’s side as he approached and took the child from her and headed away as he reached them, moving back toward the girl’s mother (a girl he thought on this somewhat brief but closer inspection). Odd, but it did not register with him long, not when he looked then into Laura’s eyes and saw them shining back at him.
“It’s good to see you, Laura.”
“You too, Bill”
Always their greeting here. Always smiling.
“I was not expecting you today,” she told him.
“I know, and sadly I am already due to leave.” He offered her his arm. “Walk with me?”
She hooked her arm in his elbow gladly and they began to make their way back to the settlement, leaving the other women behind. After a few quiet moments, she asked him what he was thinking.
“Children become you, Laura,” he told her. “I guess that is why you are a teacher.”
She smiled back at him, but made no other reply. As they walked on in companionable silence, he kept the rest of his thoughts to himself. But he knew with Lee settled now there might be children before long. He hoped he’d be ready soon to make the necessary preparations for that happy someday. After all, his heart was already true, now it only needed to learn to be brave.