(fic) A Dramatic Turn Chp 1
Title: A Dramatic Turn
Author: (this chapter) marzipanilla The whole thing is also being written with nvgvup and newnumbertwo
Word count: 1056
Summary: AU. At the start of something more, Laura and Bill's relationship gets complicated when they are dragged into a dangerous game of life and death.
Notes: This is a 'round robin' fic. Each chapter is done by one of us, and will likely be posted within a day of each other. (Well, in groups of three)
Chapter 1: In Which A Dramatic Twist Occurs
It was the worst kind of cliché imaginable, though the results weren't half-bad.
Boy meets girl.
Girl and boy do not get along.
They go their separate ways.
Due to circumstances seemingly random, they meet again.
Hidden depths are discovered, and previous misconceptions are broken.
If his life was following some kind of over used plot device, Bill figured it was about time for a twist to come along and frak everything up. With considerable effort, he convinced himself to stop being paranoid, and shook away the thoughts of looming doom. Nudging his mug of coffee, Bill turned his eyes towards the door for what felt like the fiftieth time that afternoon.
It wasn't like they had really set a date. It wasn't like they were really dating, they were just evolving into liking each other.
The dramatic turn couldn't happen until they were dating anyway.
Right?
Why was he thinking about this anyway? Laura probably had a completely logical reason for not being at the coffee house, and him getting upset over not seeing her was just silly. Especially since they weren't dating and he had no reason to get upset by her absence.
He didn't know her phone number; he wouldn't be able to call and see if she was okay.
Gods. What was wrong with him?
Bill finished his coffee, grimacing when he realized it had gone cold. Standing, he reached into his pocket to pull out a few cubit tip, knowing the blonde barista that normally served him was going through college on minimum wage. She was currently behind the counter, looking bored out of her wits at the slow afternoon she was having. Noticing that he was leaving, she hurried over, rag in hand to clean off the little window side table he had taken up.
“Packin' it in already? Surely it's not your bedtime?”
Bill smiled, letting Kara have her joke. “You know us retired people, we need our extra sleep.”
She smirked at him, though the smile faded as her eyes flickered over to where the table's other chair sat empty. “Get stood up? I wouldn't think Madame Prez was the type.”
Laura's power suits stood out amongst the Green House's typical clientele, North Caprica University's penny-pinching student body. The nickname had been a source of amusement for her, from what Bill had gathered when he first learned of it.
“We're not dating,” Bill practically mumbled.
Kara laughed, “yea, well, you got it bad then.”
Bill tried to glare, but the part of him that cherished the past three weeks of shared lunch turned his lips up.
“If she comes in, I'll tell her you were here.”
“Thanks.”
Heading out onto the street, he gave Kara quick wave through the glass door before sticking his hands into his pockets and continuing onto his bus stop. He was glad when his fingers encountered a few loose coins, and as he turned the corner of the block, he dropped them into a tin can with practiced ease. The loud snoring from the pile of blankets near the tin told Bill that Saul was still alive, and likely hungover. A veteran of the Cylon War, Saul Tigh had lost everything when he was discharged from the fleet; and had taken up residence near the university's park. Bill had once offered to let the drifter stay with him until he found his feet, but the swear laden response told him enough, Saul would take nothing he considered charity. The tin Bill had deposited the coins into was actually the veteran's meager storage space.
Trying to enjoy the warm vestiges of summer that were still clinging to the fall day, Bill slowed his steps, also hopeful to keep Laura from his thoughts. She had been late to their little get togethers in the past, but never more than a few minutes. Her job was demanding, and he could hardly hold the fact she was still working against her. Maybe she had simply gotten tired of entertaining an old man settling into his retirement.
Bill shoved the surprisingly painful thought away, trying not to wallow in self-pity.
The stop for the number seven bus had no bench, leaving Bill to stand under its dirty plastic awning. Contrary to the schedules posted, the bus tended to run on its own time. He had learned this the hard way during his first week of meeting Laura at the Green House, after turning down her offer for a ride, he had waited in the near blistering heat for nearly an hour before the bus arrived. The situation wasn't made any better by the bus driver, a white haired grouch that seemed to have a cigarette growing out of his mouth. Why the man wasn't retired himself was beyond Bill, though it was possible Cottle, as the name tag on the man's uniform read, simply enjoyed tormenting his passengers.
When the bus in question pulled up nearly two minutes later, Bill hastily stepped on board, having been left behind on another occasion. Depositing the two-cubit fee, he quickly found a seat in the middle of the bus by a window. As they started to pull away, he caught a flash of red hair and froze in his seat.
Laura was running down the sidewalk. Bill had never seen her move any faster than a brisk walk in the past, though just seeing her was probably why his heart sped up rather than witnessing the rush she appeared to be in. She hurried past the bus stop, but as if sensing his eyes, turned sharply, hair flying around her face and hiding it briefly. Her gaze swept down the windows before finally landing on him. She looked absolutely panicked as he, and the bus, left her behind.
Bill turned in his seat so he could keep his eyes on her, wondering what would happen if he jumped up and demanded to be let off. Cottle would probably kick him out without stopping. His thoughts of running back down the street and finding out what was wrong were cut short when the bus jerked to a sudden stop, sending him into the seat in front of him. Groaning, he pushed himself back up as complaints rose up from the other passengers.
They were all drowned out by Cottle's startled, “what the frak?!”
Author: (this chapter) marzipanilla The whole thing is also being written with nvgvup and newnumbertwo
Word count: 1056
Summary: AU. At the start of something more, Laura and Bill's relationship gets complicated when they are dragged into a dangerous game of life and death.
Notes: This is a 'round robin' fic. Each chapter is done by one of us, and will likely be posted within a day of each other. (Well, in groups of three)
Chapter 1: In Which A Dramatic Twist Occurs
It was the worst kind of cliché imaginable, though the results weren't half-bad.
Boy meets girl.
Girl and boy do not get along.
They go their separate ways.
Due to circumstances seemingly random, they meet again.
Hidden depths are discovered, and previous misconceptions are broken.
If his life was following some kind of over used plot device, Bill figured it was about time for a twist to come along and frak everything up. With considerable effort, he convinced himself to stop being paranoid, and shook away the thoughts of looming doom. Nudging his mug of coffee, Bill turned his eyes towards the door for what felt like the fiftieth time that afternoon.
It wasn't like they had really set a date. It wasn't like they were really dating, they were just evolving into liking each other.
The dramatic turn couldn't happen until they were dating anyway.
Right?
Why was he thinking about this anyway? Laura probably had a completely logical reason for not being at the coffee house, and him getting upset over not seeing her was just silly. Especially since they weren't dating and he had no reason to get upset by her absence.
He didn't know her phone number; he wouldn't be able to call and see if she was okay.
Gods. What was wrong with him?
Bill finished his coffee, grimacing when he realized it had gone cold. Standing, he reached into his pocket to pull out a few cubit tip, knowing the blonde barista that normally served him was going through college on minimum wage. She was currently behind the counter, looking bored out of her wits at the slow afternoon she was having. Noticing that he was leaving, she hurried over, rag in hand to clean off the little window side table he had taken up.
“Packin' it in already? Surely it's not your bedtime?”
Bill smiled, letting Kara have her joke. “You know us retired people, we need our extra sleep.”
She smirked at him, though the smile faded as her eyes flickered over to where the table's other chair sat empty. “Get stood up? I wouldn't think Madame Prez was the type.”
Laura's power suits stood out amongst the Green House's typical clientele, North Caprica University's penny-pinching student body. The nickname had been a source of amusement for her, from what Bill had gathered when he first learned of it.
“We're not dating,” Bill practically mumbled.
Kara laughed, “yea, well, you got it bad then.”
Bill tried to glare, but the part of him that cherished the past three weeks of shared lunch turned his lips up.
“If she comes in, I'll tell her you were here.”
“Thanks.”
Heading out onto the street, he gave Kara quick wave through the glass door before sticking his hands into his pockets and continuing onto his bus stop. He was glad when his fingers encountered a few loose coins, and as he turned the corner of the block, he dropped them into a tin can with practiced ease. The loud snoring from the pile of blankets near the tin told Bill that Saul was still alive, and likely hungover. A veteran of the Cylon War, Saul Tigh had lost everything when he was discharged from the fleet; and had taken up residence near the university's park. Bill had once offered to let the drifter stay with him until he found his feet, but the swear laden response told him enough, Saul would take nothing he considered charity. The tin Bill had deposited the coins into was actually the veteran's meager storage space.
Trying to enjoy the warm vestiges of summer that were still clinging to the fall day, Bill slowed his steps, also hopeful to keep Laura from his thoughts. She had been late to their little get togethers in the past, but never more than a few minutes. Her job was demanding, and he could hardly hold the fact she was still working against her. Maybe she had simply gotten tired of entertaining an old man settling into his retirement.
Bill shoved the surprisingly painful thought away, trying not to wallow in self-pity.
The stop for the number seven bus had no bench, leaving Bill to stand under its dirty plastic awning. Contrary to the schedules posted, the bus tended to run on its own time. He had learned this the hard way during his first week of meeting Laura at the Green House, after turning down her offer for a ride, he had waited in the near blistering heat for nearly an hour before the bus arrived. The situation wasn't made any better by the bus driver, a white haired grouch that seemed to have a cigarette growing out of his mouth. Why the man wasn't retired himself was beyond Bill, though it was possible Cottle, as the name tag on the man's uniform read, simply enjoyed tormenting his passengers.
When the bus in question pulled up nearly two minutes later, Bill hastily stepped on board, having been left behind on another occasion. Depositing the two-cubit fee, he quickly found a seat in the middle of the bus by a window. As they started to pull away, he caught a flash of red hair and froze in his seat.
Laura was running down the sidewalk. Bill had never seen her move any faster than a brisk walk in the past, though just seeing her was probably why his heart sped up rather than witnessing the rush she appeared to be in. She hurried past the bus stop, but as if sensing his eyes, turned sharply, hair flying around her face and hiding it briefly. Her gaze swept down the windows before finally landing on him. She looked absolutely panicked as he, and the bus, left her behind.
Bill turned in his seat so he could keep his eyes on her, wondering what would happen if he jumped up and demanded to be let off. Cottle would probably kick him out without stopping. His thoughts of running back down the street and finding out what was wrong were cut short when the bus jerked to a sudden stop, sending him into the seat in front of him. Groaning, he pushed himself back up as complaints rose up from the other passengers.
They were all drowned out by Cottle's startled, “what the frak?!”