Stumbling Towards the Dawn - Part 5
Title: Stumbling Towards the Dawn - Part 5
Word Count: 1,583
Rating: M
Disclaimer: Not mine ... just playing.
Spoilers: To LDYB Part II - Everything is definitely AU from the moment the Cylons flew over.
Summary: When Cloud Nine is destroyed, it attracted the attention of not only the Cylons.
Author's Note: This is a crossover fic, with David Weber's Mutineer's Moon - Fifth Imperium universe, but I don't think that you need to know the universe of this trilogy of novels to get it. Hopefully, it's explained well enough in the story.
"We have to go back!"
William Adama looked at his son with something akin to exasperation. "I know that, Commander," he said, "but we need a plan. It won't do them any good to jump back only to get ourselves shot out of the sky by the frakking Cylons as soon as we do!” Lee nodded and clamped his mouth shut; his lips thinned with suppressed anger and frustration. “All right, how is the call for work crews from the civilian ships coming?”
“Not good,” Lee replied. “Anyone with viable skills is already working with us or on the civilian ships’ work crews and most of them only have skeleton crews to begin with. The majority of the people left on the ships were too high-powered to get their hands dirty with the scut-work that goes into building the colony. They were just waiting for Baltar to get his act together, build them proper palaces and paved roads as befits people of their status,” Lee sneered, “and they’re definitely too high-powered to grease under their frakking fingernails defending the fleet. In fact they’re all clamouring about why we haven’t jumped away yet and some are even trying to bully the civilian captains into jumping away solo.”
Adama nodded; thank the Gods that anyone sane enough to captain a ship knew that it would be suicide. “And Zarek is rattling his sabres already,” he said in disgust. “As far as he’s concerned, everyone on that planet is already dead and as the duly-elected Vice President and now Acting President, he demands that leave this area--cut our losses to protect what is left of humanity.”
“Like he isn’t as responsible as Baltar for this frakking mess!” his son said hotly.
“All right,” Adama said. “I want as many people as we can put into Marine combat gear to shuttle over to the fleet and I want every able-body person over the age of fifteen and under the age of thirty brought back to Galactica … no exceptions. Anyone older than that who hasn’t already volunteered will be more trouble than they’re worth. If they’ve got a kid, bring it along--we’ll sort it out later and it’s not like we don’t have the room to bunk them temporarily. If anyone refuses, you’re authorised to make an example of them--shoot the frakker if you have to, preferably somewhere non-lethal like the foot and we’ll sort that out later also.”
Lee’s eyebrows flew up to his hairline, but Adama had to give him credit, he knew better than to ask if his father--and Admiral--was serious.
“Yes, sir,” he said and nodded before turning smartly on his heel to leave.
William Adama sat motionless on the couch for a moment after the hatch closed behind Lee; then ever so slowly, his shoulders drooped and his head fell forward into his hands. He didn’t know how long he sat there like that, feeling his heart fill up with tears. Forty thousand people possibly dead or dying--including Kara, the daughter of his heart--and all he could think of was her. Laura.
He remembered her last day on Galactica and wished that he’d had the courage then to say what was in his heart. After she'd lost the election, Baltar had hustled her off Colonial One with almost indecent haste, and with no where else to go, she’d accepted Bill’s offer of quarters with her usual grace. At their first dinner alone together, Gods help him, he’d been--in some ways--glad that she’d lost. He’d ignored the sadness, the worry in her grey-green eyes, and had been glad that he could finally have her to himself like this … that she came to him at last without demure or having to consider the consequences for their respective offices.
But it had been short-lived. Within two weeks, Baltar had begun his nonsense of sending all civilian and non-essential personnel down to that mud-ball and a former president and schoolteacher certainly fit his criteria. That last day, it had almost seemed like she was waiting for something--for him to ask her to stay perhaps, but he’d been too much of a coward to get the words out, and so she’d left.
It ate at him now that he’d never told her he loved her the only time they’d made love--that he hadn’t begged her to stay as every fibre of his being had been screaming at him to do on that last day. He hated to think that she’d left Galactica believing that he didn't love her.
#
William didn't know exactly when everything had changed so irrevocably, he only knew that they had. He and Laura sat on his couch kissing. The attraction between them was undeniable and since she’d moved to Galactica, it had become almost unbearable. He wanted her to stay with him--he wanted her to stay and never leave ... and in the last few days, his feelings for her threatened to overwhelm him in a way no other woman had before. As his hands began their familiar groping beneath her half-buttoned blouse, she rose, breaking the kiss and held out her hand to him.
“This isn't enough,” her eyes seem to say. “These tentative explorations are not nearly enough.”
The evening had begun as it did for the past few nights, with dinner, music, ambrosia and a little laughter, followed by discussions of the day's events, which inevitably led to more personal discussions and explorations on the sofa. But as Laura held William's eyes and he took her hand, he let all other thoughts except those of her go.
Her dark eyes danced as he stood looking down at her and reached out to caress her face. His lips parted to speak and she covered them gently with her fingers, as if she knew what he wanted to ask--if she was ready, if she was sure--for at that moment, he'd never been more sure of anything in his life. The short walk to his rack seemed to take forever, each step, each breath etched indelibly in his mind. He turned her to face him and lowered his lips to hers in a gentle kiss that built in pressure and passion so slowly, he thought his mind would explode with the culmination of the sensation.
Her small moan as they broke for air seemed to be the catalyst that increased the pace of their languid activity as he swept her up in a heady, crushing kiss and she fumbled with the buttons of his shirt as best she could with so little space between them.
Suddenly, as he pulled off her blouse, he was aware of the cool air of the room on his back, but his brain barely registered that he was no longer wearing his shirt. He pushed her pants and underwear down over her hips as he covered her mouth again and before long she was on the bed wearing nothing but her bra. Her hands played frantically over his smooth, muscular back as he lay on top of her, kissing her passionately. She tugged wordlessly at his rough uniform pants, trying to get it over his hips. He moved away from her for a moment, shucked it quickly, then lay down beside her and gathered her into his arms.
Laura draped one shapely leg over his bare hip, rubbing against his insistent, throbbing erection as he rolled her beneath him. For a moment his face hung over her and his eyes searched hers as she pulled him to her and he sank into her for the first time. As his lips covered hers, she wrapped her long legs about his hips and they slipped into the eternal rhythms of their dance.
When he woke some time later, Laura lay on her side--head propped up on one hand--watching him. She chuckled as she rolled onto him and looked directly into his one opened eye.
"I see that you wake up angry," she said in a low, lascivious voice.
"Angry?" he asked in confusion, and then groaned as she wrapped her small hand around his burgeoning erection.
"Oh yes," she whispered hoarsely. "He's definitely very angry, but I know something that will make him happy again--"
He loved her pillow talk, her wit and this ability to wind him up with simple innuendo.
"What's that?" he asked in a strained voice that gave away to a series of long drawn out groans as she straddled his hips and lowered herself to take him into the depths of her being. Bracing her hands against his scarred chest, she began to move slowly above him as he reached up to cup her full breasts.
"Is he happy?" she purred looking down lustily into his eyes.
"Ohhh, very happy," he groaned. Weaving his fingers through her thick, lustrous mane, he pulled her head down for a long, languorous kiss.
#
William removed his hands from his head and looked down at his wedding ring. Resolutely, he twisted it off, bruising his knuckle with the effort. He studied it gleaming in his palm for a moment, and then slowly closed his fist around it; he wouldn’t put it back on until she put it--or one like it--on his finger again. He would always love Anne and Caroline, but they no longer held his heart.
Hold on, Laura, he prayed, I’m coming back for you.
Part 6
Word Count: 1,583
Rating: M
Disclaimer: Not mine ... just playing.
Spoilers: To LDYB Part II - Everything is definitely AU from the moment the Cylons flew over.
Summary: When Cloud Nine is destroyed, it attracted the attention of not only the Cylons.
Author's Note: This is a crossover fic, with David Weber's Mutineer's Moon - Fifth Imperium universe, but I don't think that you need to know the universe of this trilogy of novels to get it. Hopefully, it's explained well enough in the story.
"We have to go back!"
William Adama looked at his son with something akin to exasperation. "I know that, Commander," he said, "but we need a plan. It won't do them any good to jump back only to get ourselves shot out of the sky by the frakking Cylons as soon as we do!” Lee nodded and clamped his mouth shut; his lips thinned with suppressed anger and frustration. “All right, how is the call for work crews from the civilian ships coming?”
“Not good,” Lee replied. “Anyone with viable skills is already working with us or on the civilian ships’ work crews and most of them only have skeleton crews to begin with. The majority of the people left on the ships were too high-powered to get their hands dirty with the scut-work that goes into building the colony. They were just waiting for Baltar to get his act together, build them proper palaces and paved roads as befits people of their status,” Lee sneered, “and they’re definitely too high-powered to grease under their frakking fingernails defending the fleet. In fact they’re all clamouring about why we haven’t jumped away yet and some are even trying to bully the civilian captains into jumping away solo.”
Adama nodded; thank the Gods that anyone sane enough to captain a ship knew that it would be suicide. “And Zarek is rattling his sabres already,” he said in disgust. “As far as he’s concerned, everyone on that planet is already dead and as the duly-elected Vice President and now Acting President, he demands that leave this area--cut our losses to protect what is left of humanity.”
“Like he isn’t as responsible as Baltar for this frakking mess!” his son said hotly.
“All right,” Adama said. “I want as many people as we can put into Marine combat gear to shuttle over to the fleet and I want every able-body person over the age of fifteen and under the age of thirty brought back to Galactica … no exceptions. Anyone older than that who hasn’t already volunteered will be more trouble than they’re worth. If they’ve got a kid, bring it along--we’ll sort it out later and it’s not like we don’t have the room to bunk them temporarily. If anyone refuses, you’re authorised to make an example of them--shoot the frakker if you have to, preferably somewhere non-lethal like the foot and we’ll sort that out later also.”
Lee’s eyebrows flew up to his hairline, but Adama had to give him credit, he knew better than to ask if his father--and Admiral--was serious.
“Yes, sir,” he said and nodded before turning smartly on his heel to leave.
William Adama sat motionless on the couch for a moment after the hatch closed behind Lee; then ever so slowly, his shoulders drooped and his head fell forward into his hands. He didn’t know how long he sat there like that, feeling his heart fill up with tears. Forty thousand people possibly dead or dying--including Kara, the daughter of his heart--and all he could think of was her. Laura.
He remembered her last day on Galactica and wished that he’d had the courage then to say what was in his heart. After she'd lost the election, Baltar had hustled her off Colonial One with almost indecent haste, and with no where else to go, she’d accepted Bill’s offer of quarters with her usual grace. At their first dinner alone together, Gods help him, he’d been--in some ways--glad that she’d lost. He’d ignored the sadness, the worry in her grey-green eyes, and had been glad that he could finally have her to himself like this … that she came to him at last without demure or having to consider the consequences for their respective offices.
But it had been short-lived. Within two weeks, Baltar had begun his nonsense of sending all civilian and non-essential personnel down to that mud-ball and a former president and schoolteacher certainly fit his criteria. That last day, it had almost seemed like she was waiting for something--for him to ask her to stay perhaps, but he’d been too much of a coward to get the words out, and so she’d left.
It ate at him now that he’d never told her he loved her the only time they’d made love--that he hadn’t begged her to stay as every fibre of his being had been screaming at him to do on that last day. He hated to think that she’d left Galactica believing that he didn't love her.
#
William didn't know exactly when everything had changed so irrevocably, he only knew that they had. He and Laura sat on his couch kissing. The attraction between them was undeniable and since she’d moved to Galactica, it had become almost unbearable. He wanted her to stay with him--he wanted her to stay and never leave ... and in the last few days, his feelings for her threatened to overwhelm him in a way no other woman had before. As his hands began their familiar groping beneath her half-buttoned blouse, she rose, breaking the kiss and held out her hand to him.
“This isn't enough,” her eyes seem to say. “These tentative explorations are not nearly enough.”
The evening had begun as it did for the past few nights, with dinner, music, ambrosia and a little laughter, followed by discussions of the day's events, which inevitably led to more personal discussions and explorations on the sofa. But as Laura held William's eyes and he took her hand, he let all other thoughts except those of her go.
Her dark eyes danced as he stood looking down at her and reached out to caress her face. His lips parted to speak and she covered them gently with her fingers, as if she knew what he wanted to ask--if she was ready, if she was sure--for at that moment, he'd never been more sure of anything in his life. The short walk to his rack seemed to take forever, each step, each breath etched indelibly in his mind. He turned her to face him and lowered his lips to hers in a gentle kiss that built in pressure and passion so slowly, he thought his mind would explode with the culmination of the sensation.
Her small moan as they broke for air seemed to be the catalyst that increased the pace of their languid activity as he swept her up in a heady, crushing kiss and she fumbled with the buttons of his shirt as best she could with so little space between them.
Suddenly, as he pulled off her blouse, he was aware of the cool air of the room on his back, but his brain barely registered that he was no longer wearing his shirt. He pushed her pants and underwear down over her hips as he covered her mouth again and before long she was on the bed wearing nothing but her bra. Her hands played frantically over his smooth, muscular back as he lay on top of her, kissing her passionately. She tugged wordlessly at his rough uniform pants, trying to get it over his hips. He moved away from her for a moment, shucked it quickly, then lay down beside her and gathered her into his arms.
Laura draped one shapely leg over his bare hip, rubbing against his insistent, throbbing erection as he rolled her beneath him. For a moment his face hung over her and his eyes searched hers as she pulled him to her and he sank into her for the first time. As his lips covered hers, she wrapped her long legs about his hips and they slipped into the eternal rhythms of their dance.
When he woke some time later, Laura lay on her side--head propped up on one hand--watching him. She chuckled as she rolled onto him and looked directly into his one opened eye.
"I see that you wake up angry," she said in a low, lascivious voice.
"Angry?" he asked in confusion, and then groaned as she wrapped her small hand around his burgeoning erection.
"Oh yes," she whispered hoarsely. "He's definitely very angry, but I know something that will make him happy again--"
He loved her pillow talk, her wit and this ability to wind him up with simple innuendo.
"What's that?" he asked in a strained voice that gave away to a series of long drawn out groans as she straddled his hips and lowered herself to take him into the depths of her being. Bracing her hands against his scarred chest, she began to move slowly above him as he reached up to cup her full breasts.
"Is he happy?" she purred looking down lustily into his eyes.
"Ohhh, very happy," he groaned. Weaving his fingers through her thick, lustrous mane, he pulled her head down for a long, languorous kiss.
#
William removed his hands from his head and looked down at his wedding ring. Resolutely, he twisted it off, bruising his knuckle with the effort. He studied it gleaming in his palm for a moment, and then slowly closed his fist around it; he wouldn’t put it back on until she put it--or one like it--on his finger again. He would always love Anne and Caroline, but they no longer held his heart.
Hold on, Laura, he prayed, I’m coming back for you.
Part 6