MOL VII, Day 20: Five Dawns
Title: Five Dawns
Author: afrakaday
Rating: T
Word count: 1550
Summary: Five mornings across Laura's life.
A/N: Written for the prompt "dawn" for Month of Love, day 20.
1. Caprica
Laura’s alarm went off as the sun was just beginning to rise on the Caprican horizon. Her high-rise apartment would fill with light quickly, rousing her to face even the most oppressive schedules. And today certainly fell into that category.
She rolled over in bed and stared at the ceiling as she considered the things she had to get through in the next day. First up was a trip to the doctor that she instinctively knew would not end well. She had put it off again and again: I’m too busy. I have a scheduling conflict. Deep in her heart she knew why she was avoiding the checkup, and her mother’s voice reproached her for it.
She’d also have to somehow negotiate an end to the school strike, in contravention of the President’s unambiguous instruction not to do so. Her clandestine appointment with Stans had been kept from her official scheduler. She’d chosen to meet with him at the Riverwalk because it was where she normally spent at least a few moments of her lunch hour.
Then there was Richard. Laura pulled her pillow over her face and let out a brief scream. Just as with the other two things, she knew what she had to do. Yet this was the hardest one to face. He’d been an adequate distraction for a while. His pursuit of her had been heady, their frantic couplings satisfactory. Somehow over the past few months he’d gotten it into his head that the fact that they were frakking meant that he could count on her to carry out his bidding in all regards, whether in cabinet meetings or in her bedroom. It had been exciting at first, but the gloss had long worn off the illusion of their relationship. She didn’t know whether things would come to an end at her insistence or his, but either way, it would be over shortly.
Finally, the day had arrived when she would have to go to the Galactica. She had been spearheading the project of turning the ancient battlestar into a museum for months.
She sat up slowly and pushed herself out of bed, joints creaking in protest. When she got back, she’d have to start taking better care of herself again.
Walking over to the wide window overlooking the Caprican Bay, she let her gaze drift up into the sky. The sun had just barely risen, illuminating neighboring Gemenon low in the sky. Higher above, the blinking lights of spaceships entering and exiting the atmosphere were still visible, less so with the gradual lightening of day.
She would be on a transport within a few hours. She would get through whatever the morning brought her, then attend the decommissioning that would mark the beginning of the battlestar’s existence as the educational museum she’d spent so long in developing. She’d probably be out of a job by the time she got back, but somehow, she felt at peace with that prospect.
For the first time in months, she felt a glimmer of hope at whatever changes lay ahead.
2. Colonial One
“You can go,” she said. “You’ve been here with me for too long. Go back to your quarters and sleep.”
Bill shook his head slowly. Exhaustion emanated from him like illness did her. “I’m fine. Don’t have to be in CIC for a few hours.”
She reached out for his hand. She’d been holding it, on and off, all night long. It was such a comfort to her: his large, warm hand between her trembling ones. “I promise,” she said, her voice scratchy and wan, “that I will still be here when you get off duty.”
She needed him to leave so that she could talk to Billy and find out how his mission went. If all went as planned, this would be Bill’s final day as Commander. “I promise,” she said again, meaning it.
He leaned closer and studied her, his thumb moving ever so gently along the line of her cheekbone.
“I’ll be back in the morning,” he said.
Her eyes drifted shut after he pulled the curtain behind him on his way out. She could finally sleep because she believed her own promise to him.
3. New Caprica
The brightness seeping through her eyelids woke her before the sounds of a bustling, if somewhat hungover, encampment did. The heavy canvas of her tent typically shielded her from such indignities. But on this warm, nascent morning, waking up curled against Bill Adama’s chest with the sun peeking at them both from across the horizon felt like she could be in another time and place.
She didn't want to open her eyes. It was so comfortable here on the pile of sandbags where they had passed out. When she finally did face the day, she realized that Bill was already awake and gazing at her fondly. She shifted against him, relishing the contact. "Good morning," she said softly, craning her neck to whisper it near his ear.
His hands made lazy trails across her arms, her back. On the third pass his hands skimmed tantalizingly close to the sides of her breasts. She turned in his arms and took in the sight of a half-conscious Admiral.
"Come on back to my tent?" she asked, almost shyly.
He smiled and held her tight before pushing himself up off the ground and pulling her up after him. "I could use some rack time." Their eyes met as they both silently assessed what they did, and didn't, do the night before.
Maybe they had needed that time together, just smoking, and chatting, and--oh gods, singing--to have a chance at this today.
She linked her arm in his and led him toward her (their) tent. "We have some unfinished business, sir."
4. Galactica
Laura had been with him when Starbuck called him over in the corridor and presented him with the figurine. “For the masthead of your ship,” she’d said nonchalantly.
Now she was gone, and Bill was a broken man. His grip clenched around the golden figure so tightly that Laura knew if she coaxed his fist open, it would be angry and red. The pieces of the model the figure was intended to complete lay scattered across the floor.
Her heart ached to see him like this, guilt-wracked and despondent. Laura brought his robe over to him on the couch and began to unbutton his uniform. “That’s it,” she crooned as he obediently pulled his arms out of the jacket. “Now your pants.”
It’s been so long since she last did this for him. But Laura’s well-versed in grief, and she knows that he’s almost certainly not thinking about the handful of times they’d had in her tent on New Caprica right now. He barely noticed as she unbuckled his belt and pulled off his pants.
A sob escaped him, and she hurriedly wrapped the robe around him and settled beside him on the couch.
“I’m here,” she said, stroking his brow. There was tension beneath and tears below, and she wants to kiss them away for him. She settled for wiping them with her sleeve. “For as long as you need me.”
“Stay the night?” he asked.
She nodded.
“Please don’t leave me, Laura.” His voice was barely audible, but she squeezed his arm tight and lay her head against his shoulder in agreement.
“I won’t leave you,” she promised. “I’m with you, here, tonight.”
Neither of them sleep that night. And in space, morning never comes.
5. Earth
They arrived on the surface in the darkness of the planet's rotation. Kara and Lee set up a makeshift shelter for her between two sparse trees, while Bill wrapped her plaid blanket tightly around her shoulders.
“I can’t wait to see it,” she said, and within minutes he’s somehow procured a set of binoculars, of all things.
She set them in her lap and closed her eyes as she waited for the sun to come up and her head to stop spinning. At some point Bill eases down beside her.
She wants to be awake, to be with him, but she’s so very tired.
“Laura, honey,” he whispered to her. “Look.”
It’s almost heavenly, the revelation of greens and golds set out before them. The blazing orange sun illuminates the ferns swaying in the gentle breeze as four-legged animals graze. “It’s… a very … beautiful world.”
He looked sidelong at her. Sensing his scrutiny, she set the binoculars down again and with a trembling hand put her glasses back on. “I want … to see more,” she admits.
It’s so hard to breathe. He picks her up gently, so gently, and her heart swells in her constricted chest.
“We can see it all from up here,” he said once he’d settled her in the seat next to him, and her smile faded.
She would never see it all. They would never have enough time. She lifted her hand against the glass in valediction to his (their) children.
Her vision was fading quickly, but as the Raptor took flight in the direction of the rising sun, she could make out the bright pink birds and glassy blue water below.
How fitting, she thought, that the last sunrise of her life should be the most perfect.