My first MBH fic
Just posting my makebillhappy fic. This one was a winner of the non-smut award (how ironic). Well, almost a winner, it was a draw. Hee.
I need to add a special thanks to lacklusterfic who betaed this. I failed to mention this on the comm. *head desk* She mostly checked my tense, my US spelling and teased me that even though Lee was a major character in it, he hardly gets a line of dialogue. *snort* Actually that fact and the fact that Bill is wearing his brown robe of win should have clued you in that I wrote it!
Oh, by the way, the prompt was 'make Bill happy out of uniform'.
Thanks to those who left me reviews on the comm. :)
Title: Coming Home
Rating: T
Characters: Bill, Saul, Lee, OOC and Laura in spirit.
Around noon, I become anxious that we will have to camp out for the night again.
Every year, when I was a child, my father would take me and my brother Rick to Traitor’s Canyon over Colonial Day weekend. We would snuggle down together each night in front of the campfire. It was one of those rare times that Rick and I managed not to bicker with each other for longer than ten minutes. Dad taught us inappropriate songs, and told us equally inappropriate ghost stories, while we ate inappropriate amounts of marshmallows. I looked forward to those weekends more than any other holiday on the Colonial calendar.
Now, the thought of camping out fills me with dread. I am unabashedly petrified of the animals on this planet, and particularly the ones on this continent.
I had wanted to travel north, where I’d heard the weather was cooler and the wildlife less ferocious. My husband agreed, and after a week of packing and preparations, we left the caves where I’d lived for the past six years along with a hundred or so other survivors. I bid a teary goodbye to the people who I know are more than just friends, some were even my ex-crewmates from the Rising Star, and walked out into the bright morning sun, full of hope for my family’s future.
That’s when he told me we had to go south.
I didn’t understand.
My back and my legs are aching. Lauren’s small body is tucked into a sling that ties around my neck, her mouth settled over my breast as we walk. She is suckling in her sleep. I don’t have enough energy to remove her from my nipple, so I allow her this one small indulgence in a world that offers so few indulgences. Will is in a basket woven from river reeds which straps around my waist and balances on my back. He is the quieter of the twins. Ten minutes younger than his sister, he always nurses second. My husband jokes that it is simply the gentlemanly thing to do. He may be right. I have no other explanation for his good nature, but am most grateful for it.
Lee drags the rest of our meager belongings. They are tied to a toboggan which he made from bark. He brought enough water and dried food for us to survive without hunting for three weeks. We have only been walking for a week thus far. I try not to think of the fact that we will now have to incorporate another week’s worth of provisions in our baggage once he finds peace and we start our journey north again.
If he finds peace.
He rarely talks of his heroics before settlement, although they are legendary. He says he was different then. I know of Apollo, and I know of President Adama, but the tales I have heard don’t sway me in my opinion of the man I know simply as my husband. He is everything I could ask for in a father for my children, and a provider for our family. He is also everything I could ask for in a lover. He is thoughtful and kind and unselfish. He insists this is new. He says I changed him. It’s a romantic gesture that makes me swoon, but I’m not sure whether I believe it or not. I wonder if one of his previous personas will emerge when we arrive at our new destination.
“Perhaps we should start to look for somewhere safe to sleep the night,” I say as the day grows longer.
“We don’t have to,” Lee says. “Look!”
I turn to where his finger points, and see what appears to be a house in the distance.
“That’s it?” I ask, nervous as well as awe-struck.
“Yes.” Lee’s voice is shaky.
I lay my hand upon his arm, offering my comfort and understanding. His muscles are bunched tightly beneath my touch.
“Let’s go,” he mutters. “We should be there in less than an hour.”
We say nothing more for the remainder of the trip. The twins both doze on, saving us the need to stop again until the grass flattens and the entire dwelling is visible.
It looks like a Libran hunting cabin. I am astounded by the details in the design. It is elevated; I count eight logs from the sturdier local trees being used as stilts to hold up the house. The external walls are sundried mud bricks (which we had come across in a Colonial village we passed through two days ago) with a smooth rendered finish giving it an almost stucco texture. The roof is thatched; I’m not sure if Lee’s father used one of the river reeds or grasses from the plains. Whichever it is, they appear tightly threaded, making me believe that they would repel even the harshest monsoon rains.
There are four logs lying on their sides adjacent to what looks to be the main entrance, forming a type of deck. I gasp when I see a pile of stones at the end of the logs.
“That’s her…” My voice fades away and tears spring to my eyes. I had never met Laura Roslin, yet I find myself incredibly emotional at the sight of her grave.
Will chooses this moment to remind us he hasn’t been fed in quite a while. His cry seems to echo off the walls of the cabin.
I make soothing noises and rock from side to side, waiting for Lee to come and remove Will from the carrier on my back before his indignant squeals wake his sister.
Just as Lee finally manages to untie the ropes of the toboggan, a man walks out onto the log landing. I jump in fright. He is a scary sight, not at all how I remembered Lee’s father looking in the Fleet newsletters. His face is masked by a thick, snowy-white beard. In contrast, the amount of hair left on his head is considerably less than the small downy amount that feathers over Lauren’s.
“Well, will you look at what the cat dragged in!”
He speaks so loud I feel Lauren physically jump in the sling.
“I never thought I’d see the day. You’re going to give the Old Man a frakkin’ heart attack.”
At his words I peer at the man again, and that’s when I see the eye patch in amongst the overgrown beard. This is Saul Tigh, once the Executive Officer of Galactica. More interestingly, for me, he is a Cylon. I’ve never seen a Cylon up close. Everyone knew they looked like us. Despite this, I am still expecting one to look somehow different. Saul Tigh looks a lot like the other elderly settlers--unkempt and grubby. Nothing out of the ordinary.
“Saul,” Lee says as he finally lifts Will into his arms, “how are you?”
“A baby! How the frak did that happen?”
“The usual way,” Lee drawls. He turns and takes my hand, dragging me closer to the bedraggled, swearing Cylon. “This is my wife, Gabriella. Gabriella, this is Saul Tigh, my father’s best friend.”
I nod and smile.
“Godsdammit! You’d better get those rugrats inside and get some food in their bellies before they wake the wild dogs in the next valley!”
I shimmy up the log that serves as a step. The interior of the house is cool and dark. I blink, trying to get my eyes to adjust to the dim light, reminding me a little of the caves where I lived for so long.
“Sorry, I hadn’t bothered putting any lights on,” Saul Tigh tells us. He goes to the corner where one small flame is burning on a long plant stalk. He takes it and lights more stalks until four orange glows flicker in the room. “There’s a skylight in the roof. You lift it up during the day and you can see just fine. But I try to close it from late afternoon onwards.”
I look around and realize the cabin has two rooms. I presume this one is the main living room, and the other darkened room running off it is a bedroom. In the center of this room is a large cleared area that is used for a fireplace, a small pile of basic tools used for cooking lie beside it. There is another pile of tools a few feet away from them-hunting equipment. The ground is scattered with various animals’ hides. Against the far wall, one of the hides hangs from the ceiling, having been crafted into a hammock. The adjacent wall displays a collection of clay pots. Saul Tigh moves over to the pots and offers us a cup of water. We both accept and I sink gratefully onto a soft rug made from a black-and-white striped hide.
After I unhook Lauren’s sling, Lee and I swap twins, and Will immediately latches onto my breast to nurse.
I watch as Saul Tigh moves closer to Lauren. Even with the beard and eye patch, I find he has a plethora of facial expressions, and I can see this one is not only shock, but complete and utter wonderment.
I look away, choked up with emotion. Lee had been adamant that Saul Tigh hated his guts, but this man certainly looked like he was willing to forgive and accept Lee back into his life without any hesitation. I hope that Lee’s father will do the same.
The turn of my head has brought something odd into my line of vision-books. Not just a few, but what appears to be hundreds of them, piled in neat stacks. In the middle of the piles, like a shrine, sits a tree stump covered with photographs. I recognize Lee and I presume the other boy in the photos is Zak. Most of the photos, however, are of a woman--Laura Roslin. Laura Roslin with a young man; Laura Roslin on Cloud Nine with other members of the then Quorum; but mostly Laura Roslin with Admiral Adama.
The opportunity to dwell on my discovery any longer is interrupted with a voice growling from the other room: “What the hell’s going on, Saul?”
I see the color drain from Lee’s face.
“You got some visitors!” Saul Tigh yells back.
I hear some movement from the bedroom, a small clang, a shuffle, and a groan, and eventually a man stands in the doorway.
This is Bill Adama.
I stare unashamedly.
Unlike his friend, he’s neatly shaved, and his head still sports a thick thatch of hair. Like his friend, it’s as white as snow. I stifle a giggle at his clothes: a brown robe that has enough holes in it to use as a sieve. It’s much too large for him, but I believe anything would be. He’s a bag of bones; not just thin, but emaciated. It’s blatantly obvious that he’s dying.
One thing stands out on his gaunt body - his eyes. They dominate his features. The perfect blue color of his irises calms me with its familiarity.
“I haven’t had visitors since Cottle passed away due to the great cigarette shortage,” he mutters.
“Well, you got visitors now.”
Bill Adama’s head tilts to one side. “They’re very quiet.”
“At the moment. You should have heard them a few minutes ago! Lucky thing we don’t have any Fleet to tend to anymore, Old Man, considering the way you can sleep nowadays.”
“I wasn’t asleep, I was just resting my eyes.”
I let out a quiet laugh at their banter. Bill Adama tilts his head again and turns in my direction. He is focusing just above my head; it dawns on me that he is blind.
“You’ve got a woman here?”
“Two women, in fact,” Saul says suggestively.
“What the frak would I do with a woman,” Bill scolds.
“You can hug this one,” Saul suggests and I watch, my eyes as wide as Bill Adama’s sightless ones, as Saul Tigh takes Lauren over and places her in her grandfather’s arms.
I panic, my protective instinct screaming at me to rescue my child, but after only the briefest moments I see there was no need. Bill Adama might be old, blind and feeble, but his touch is gentle and his hold on my baby secure.
He looks blindly back up, swinging his head from side to side. “Who-“
It is Lee who answers: “Her name is Lauren.”
“Lauren... Lee…”
“Lauren is your granddaughter, dad. And if you wait a few minutes, you can meet your grandson - Will.”
*
It is two weeks after we left the caves, a week since we arrived at the cabin, and Bill asks to speak to us after the babies are asleep. He had given up his bedroom for us and the babies. We’d argued over that decision for hours, but I soon learned where Lee’s stubborn streak came from.
Lee and I sit beside Bill, waiting for him to start the conversation. We stare into the fire, each drinking a cup of warm milk from one of the small animals Bill had managed to domesticate and keep from harm by building them a shelter at the back of the cabin. The only sound is Saul’s steady snoring coming from the hammock.
“I’m dying,” he finally says.
Lee’s jaw tightens, and I think he is going to deny the truth instantly. Finally, he gives his father a quiet ‘yeah’ as a reply instead.
“I have a favor to ask. I want to be with Laura.”
“You will be, Dad.”
I see tears spring into Bill’s helpless eyes. “I loved her with all my heart. My soul will be with hers in the afterlife. I want my body to be with hers here.”
I watch, stricken, as Bill begins to weep, his shoulders shuddering as each sob rakes his body. Lee moves closer and clasps his father to him, rocking him gently.
It is a good ten minutes later before Bill is consoled enough to talk again. “It took me a long time to dig the hole, and then place the rocks, so I know it will be a big job. But you’re younger than I was, so I know you can do it. I made the grave deep enough so I can be put in on top. Don’t worry, I covered her in a blanket so you won’t see her…”
I’m sure all three of us gulp audibly before he continues.
“Promise me, Lee,” he pleads. “Promise me you’ll lift the rocks and put me in the grave with Laura.”
*
It is a month later when I make a decision. I am fetching water from the river, which has become a small trickle at the bottom of the hill the cabin sits on. Saul told me that it would be a raging watercourse once again when the wet season began. He hinted the rains weren’t far away, and warned that if we hadn’t started on our northern journey before they came, we would have to stay at the cabin until they eased.
His reaction to my gentle enquiry regarding the number of leaks the roof would sprout during this season was genuinely amusing. His assurance of ‘a hundred percent waterproof grass above your head’ was sweet in its conviction.
I have long forgotten that Saul is a Cylon and have developed a deep affection for the man. I still haven’t found the right way to ask what happened to his wife. I understand, I never talk of Rick. Yet every detail of my dead twin’s life is ingrained into my memory.
I return to the cabin and immediately go in search of Bill. I find him by Laura Roslin’s grave, holding Lauren. He is chatting away, and I know from experience he is talking to both of them.
“Bill,” I let him know I am there.
“I’ve told you to call me Dad,” he rumbles.
“Dad,” the word rolls off my tongue with surprising ease.
He waits patiently for me to continue.
“When Lee told me we had to come here instead of north, I was upset. I didn’t want to live in this area. I thought coming here was an unnecessary upheaval to my family.”
I pause for a moment, collecting my thoughts and hoping I say this right. “This is your home, because this is where Laura is. It’s Saul’s home, because it’s where you are. And now I... Bill...Dad...May I have your permission to stay and live here, after you’ve gone?”
He remains quiet for the longest time.
He looks in my general direction, large tears streaking down his cheeks.
“You have no idea how happy you just made me.”
We are still sitting there, his arm wrapped around my shoulders, Lauren curled up in his lap, when Lee comes out with Will to find out what all the laughter and tears are about.
I understand now. My family is all together. We will all find peace.