Title: Painted Lady (4/14)
Author:
tjonesy and
icedteainthebagWord Count: 2,538
Rating: MA
Pairing: Roslin/Adama
Spoilers: S2, Final Cut through LDYB II
Content Warning: (highlight to read) this chapter includes a description of attempted rape
Summary: We survived the end of worlds and we still can't tell people how we really feel.
Notes: Thanks to our amazing betas
somadanne and
larsfarm77, both for their invaluable skills and their patience. Thanks to
melligator for the pretty icon set and again to
katamaran78 for the gorgeous frakkin’ banner.
We will be posting chapters once per day (around 10 p.m. EST) until the fic is posted in its entirety.
Link to :
Chapter 1 |
Chapter 2 |
Chapter 3 |
Chapter 4 |
Chapter 5 |
Chapter 6 |
Chapter 7 Chapter 8 |
Chapter 9 |
Chapter 10 |
Chapter 11 |
Chapter 12 |
Chapter 13 |
Chapter 14 |
Epilogue ____________________________________________________________
PEGASUS PART 1:
A couple more thousand people jump into the Fleet and everybody's looking to get laid. Word travels fast that Cloud 9 is the place to get it done. It's just a few hours after the announcement that the Battlestar Pegasus has reunited with the Fleet that its crew starts creeping on board.
Hours are long. There are actually lines outside of doors. Everyone who works the corridor thought we could finally get ahead of the curve, save some money, but Phelan and his cronies have merely doubled our rent and tripled the price of food. I try not to look nervous as I'm given the once-over by half the guys, and girls, waiting. They know who I'm supposed to be, and it's obvious from how many offers I've gotten, many of which I've had to turn down out of sheer exhaustion, that there's an increasing number of them who'd like to give it to the President.
Our room's a free-for-all. Jemma and Annie are actually in there at the same time and I can't imagine what that's like, nor do I want to. It's like a revolving hatch door needs to be installed. Me, I'm frakkin' irritable. Not only are my muscles aching, but I haven't heard from Mr. Commander in weeks and, all other considerations for him aside, he was my big meal ticket. Not to mention that I'm now way too interested in his cock for my own good.
Frak, I need some shuteye.
I'm not the only one in this predicament. A lot of us are displaced from our rooms because of the exponential increase in business. There are few out-of-the-way places to sleep and they're usually jam packed. I manage to snag a blanket and a pillow as the occupants of our room change yet again. I find a dark corner that doesn't smell like urine, where several other people are trying to get a few hours' rest. I lie down, the patterned decking hard against my side. Curling up under the blanket, I try to shut out the drone of loud conversations on the causeway. I'm so tired, it doesn't take long for me to find sleep.
I wake up thinking the body lining my back is Bill, a dream interrupted, but the hand sliding across my hip is very real. It takes a split second for me to realize that the soft whisper in my ear isn't his voice, that he's not the one telling me that everything's okay and to hold still. I jolt awake and cry out before a calloused, dirty palm presses against my mouth, muffling me. He's strong and he holds me tightly as I thrash, bile rising in my throat. I can't breathe, but somehow I'm still screaming against his hand. His hard cock grinds against my ass, and when I realize his other hand's going up my skirt, I bite down on his fingers as hard as I can. It's his turn to cry out. His flesh gives way before my teeth hit bone and a rush of blood fills my mouth. It's a sickening sensation and I spit the blood out of my mouth, holding back vomit. His shock and recoil give me enough leeway to scramble up off the floor.
"Frak you," I shriek, kicking at him several times. I can't tell where my kicks land in the darkness but the point of my shoe hits something hard.
"Gods," I hear him groan. Lucky for him I'm more frightened than angry. I fly out of the dark corner and squint in the brighter light of the causeway, leaving my blanket and pillow behind. It's an unfortunate loss and I'm gonna have to work harder for a while to get enough cubits to buy new ones off somebody else. I wipe my mouth with the inside sleeve of my dress shirt, dismayed to see I've left a streak of dark red blood smeared across the fabric.
I don't stop moving for a while, my adrenaline pumping, the bitter tang of this guy's blood still in my mouth. I travel the causeway nervously, like a shark in its tank, glaring at anyone who looks like they want something from me. It's the first time I feel like I can't escape-can't escape the fear, can't escape the lust, can't escape who I've been forced to become.
I used to love my life. I had a real good thing going once.
I decide to head back to my room despite the small chance that it's unoccupied. I could do with a few minutes of privacy after what happened. Thinking about it that way makes me shiver and I pull my hair behind my ear, wrapping an arm around my stomach as I rush back to our room.
Life is full of surprises today. I find the next one standing in front of my hatch, and he looks like a guy who used to care about me but has apparently been too busy commanding his ship to visit. I quickly fold my arms so he can't see the bloodstain on my sleeve.
"The frak you doing here?" I growl. He stands still, his eyes drinking me in from head to toe. Any other day and I might find his leer flattering, but after nearly being raped it's just plain obnoxious. I realize I'm in full Roslin dress and my anger flares. "Bill. Get over it and stop staring at my tits. Eyes up here."
I'm barking my commands and his lips curl into a remorseful smile. It only irritates me more. I'm no joyride today, not that I've ever been that for him.
"I'm sorry I haven't been around. I've been busy-"
I jerk my head toward the green rag on the hatch wheel. I'm shaking again. "Well, so have I. Thanks to 'The Beast' jumping into the Fleet."
His face falls and I'm glad. He's not the only one dealing with a load of new shit. It must be nice to have someone else take over your responsibilities. He's probably spending half his time in his quarters now that this Admiral chick is in charge, relaxing and … doing whatever the hell he does when he relaxes.
"Are you okay?" he asks, seeming concerned. "I've heard some of the Pegasus crew is raucous."
"That's an understatement," I say bitterly, tapping my foot against the grated hallway. It's all I'm gonna say. I don't need his pity. "So are you down here to actually frak, or do you just want to talk again?" Today, I'm not sure which I'd rather he request. I could go for getting some aggression out.
He nods toward the closed hatch. "When's the room going to be free?"
"Never," I snap at him. "Hope you blocked out a few days on your calendar."
He steps closer to me and I bite my lip when I feel the heat of his chest near mine. "Brooke." He's using that soft tone that's too soothing. He knows I need to hear it. I'm so edgy I don't know if I can stand him touching me. "What happened?"
"Nothing. I'm fine." I swallow the lump in my throat. "No, I'm not, I'm exhausted. I'm sore. I can't get any sleep. I tried and it didn't work out."
His warm palm cups my shoulder. It feels good and I nearly press my cheek against it before I stop myself. "Wait here," he says. "Can you do that?"
I nod and take a deep breath. I feel my body shaking with stress, exhaustion and the possibility of some sort of relief on the horizon.
He leaves and I stand with my back against the corridor wall, watching crowds of people pass, intentionally avoiding eye contact. I'm not sure how long it is before our hatch door opens and a beautiful, dark-skinned guy with thick, curly hair exits. I've seen him before.
When Nicco's latest trick is out of earshot, my curiosity gets the best of me. "Pegasus or Galactica?"
"Galactica," he grunts, untying the rag. "Actually works in the CIC with your boy, Adama."
"That's frakked up."
"What's frakked up is what he likes me to do to him." Nicco shrugs. "Whatever. It's money. You need the room, sweetheart?"
He sounds as tired as he looks. It makes my heart ache for him.
"You need a break," I say. "I'm not waiting. You should take a nap while you can."
"When's the last time you slept?" he asks. "You look like hell."
I can always trust Nicco to be honest. "I fell asleep in a corner off the causeway." I try to seem unaffected. "Woke up to some frakker mauling me. He'll be hurting for a while."
"Lords of Kobol." Nicco pulls me into a tight hug. I relent, pressing my cheek against his solid chest. "Those frakking bastards. Somebody should do something."
"Somebody should care," I agree. "But nobody does."
As if on cue, I feel Nicco shift away, and I look up to see Adama has returned. "Commander," Nicco says, mock-saluting him.
"That's a sloppy excuse for a salute," Adama barks. "Back straight, firm hand, elbow parallel to the deck. Look like you mean it, Commander."
I stifle my laughter as Nicco straightens, his expression serious. He performs the salute again and this time it's over the top, comically formal, his pointed fingers slapping against his forehead.
"That's more like it. As you were." He turns his back to Nicco and touches my shoulder again. My eyes flutter shut momentarily as I imagine his soft hands roaming my body. I'm dizzy with fatigue and I let my mind wander. "Brooke, I've managed to get a room on one of the upper decks."
My eyes snap open and I look at him incredulously. "You what?"
He's dead serious. "I pulled a few strings and got a room for the night." He looks over at Nicco. "You can come too, if Brooke doesn't mind."
Nicco's eyebrows nearly hit the ceiling. "You want both of us at the same time?"
Oh, gods. He's lucky I don't smack him.
"I won't be joining you," Adama says flatly. "I've got things to take care of up on my ship."
"You can't stay?"
He looks embarrassed by my question and I immediately back off. "Sorry, sometimes I forget who you are."
Bill places his hand under my chin, lifting it, forcing me to meet his gaze. "Sometimes I forget who I am too, Brooke. That's why I come here."
I feel him push the room keycard into my hand and I quickly pocket it. Nobody needs to know about this. I don't want anyone following us, trying to get in on this deal. His hand remains on mine and I curl my fingers around it, gripping tightly. I look into his eyes. "Thank you," I say, my voice wavering. I'm so tired. That's all it is.
"Sleep," he whispers. "Shower, eat." He pulls me against him, his embrace more reassuring than Nicco's ever was. The Commander of the Fleet is a world-class hugger, I think deliriously. "Brooke." His voice is firmer now, pulling me back to reality. "Can you do that for me?"
I blink away tears. "Okay."
He leans in close, his breath hot against my cheek. "And you and Nicco get out of those frakking outfits. There's enough senseless chattering swirling around about me and Roslin without the two of you adding fuel to that fire."
He kisses me lightly on the forehead before he pulls away, and I watch helplessly as he heads down the corridor, his departure leaving me confused and depressed. I want him to come with me up to the room. I want him to bathe me and hold me so I can sleep.
Nicco's watching me watch Adama. "What's going on between the two of you?"
"Nothing."
"Nothing," he repeats sarcastically.
"It's complicated," I reply. I don't have the energy to elaborate.
Nicco's eyes narrow. "He finally frak you?"
I glare at him and he shrinks slightly under my harsh gaze. "Not everything boils down to a frak, Nicco."
"Does so," he replies smugly, and I realize, in a way, he's right. He's managed to zero in on the one line Adama won't cross with me, and it's messing with my head. I know it sounds awful, but I was always the pretty, popular girl in school. I've never had to work very hard for a man's attention before. In my old life, I wouldn't have given Adama the time of day, and now I'm pining away for the ugly, old, stick-in-the-mud Commander. It makes me wonder if genocide is really the great, cosmic equalizer.
"He got a big cock?"
I look at Nicco like he's grown another head, but he's woefully unperturbed by my withering stare. I also hate that I don't really know the answer to that question.
"I figured it's got to be something if you're so hung up on him. He ain't winning no beauty contests, honey."
I just had the same uncharitable thought, yet hearing it come out of Nicco's mouth makes me want to scratch his eyes out. "He just bought us a night away from this hellhole and you're knocking him?"
"I'm only being honest," he says defensively. "I mean, he's okay I guess, but he's kinda ugly."
"Don't," I warn in an angry hiss.
Nicco looks at me strangely, not getting it. "He's just a trick, Brooke."
No he's not, I want to scream, but I'm not about to embarrass myself in the middle of this miserable stinkhole we're standing in. "You want to go up to this suite or you want to talk about him all night?"
" … Go up to the suite," he answers slowly, like it's some sort of trick question.
"Then let's go pack."
"Shit yeah." He grins, unable to contain his excitement any longer. I laugh wearily and it breaks the tension, helps me forget how painful it was watching Bill round the corner, heading back to his other life.
"He says we have to change," I mumble, still gazing down the corridor even though I know he's long gone, "so get out of that uniform, Commander."
"Yes, Madame President," he teases before bolting into our room.
I follow him and we change quickly into regular clothes. It doesn't take me long to shed my presidential persona. It actually feels kinda nice to be myself again.
I can't wait to get off the lower deck, but I'm nervous about ascending to the upper levels that I've only seen a few times before. The nervousness slowly morphs into anger. I have every right to be up there with the rest of them. There was a time when I would have been a guest up there and fit right in, lounging and drinking and engaging in overly intellectual conversations about things that seemed so important then, ridiculously trivial now.
"Let's hit it," he says. "We're gonna live it up tonight, baby."
Living it up nowadays means a real bed, a real shower, some real food.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Continued in
Chapter 5...