Whenever I Fall At Your Feet - Part 3
OK, sorry. I've done it again. It's going to go for more than 3 chapters. *heads desk* But it won't be really really long. That's a promise, at least!
I want to thank kastari again for the beta. (If only you knew the amount of red lines she has to do. *sigh*) I think I agreed with most of your 'suggestions'.
Title: Whenever I Fall At Your Feet
Part 3
A/U Not my characters/not making money
Rated T
Laura relaxed when Sean removed his arm from her waist and headed toward the bar to order them both a drink. Inviting him had been a mistake. His conversation was peppered with innuendo that she had, thus far, chosen to ignore. At some point during the evening, she would need to set him straight.
There was only one reason she was at this soiree - it was part of her job. She didn’t care for polite chit-chat over champagne with the Caprican ‘who’s-who’. However, the politician inside of her acknowledged the fact that she needed to make an appearance and put forth some effort. At least she was dressed for the part tonight. Her eyes scanned the crowd for anyone she thought she ought to mingle with.
That was when she saw him - the man she had come to think of as her soldier. Her heart skipped a beat. Wearing his Colonial Fleet uniform, he certainly stood out in the crowd. His polished suave appearance demanded respect. Her eyes lingered on his muscular frame then slowly moved up and focused on his face. Those mesmerising blue eyes of his were staring straight at her.
Her tongue darted out to moisten her suddenly too-dry lips before she smiled politely. In return, Commander William Adama gave her an almost imperceptible nod.
“Laura.”
She regrettably dragged her eyes away from the Commander’s face to politely accept the drink that Sean offered her.
“Would you like to dance?” he asked.
She took a drink from her glass before glancing back up to where the Commander stood. He was blatantly inspecting her date. His eyes then drifted back to her and she automatically felt herself tilt her head up defiantly at his unspoken disdain.
Then she mirrored his gesture and studied the woman standing at his side. The small blonde was a clone of every other woman in the room. Laura was sure, if she got close enough, she would find evidence of cosmetic surgery, every woman’s vain attempt to keep youthful.
“Laura?” Sean interrupted her musings.
“Sorry?”
“Would you like to dance?”
She looked across at the dance floor. At the back of the room, a small band played unobtrusively. Several couples were swaying in time with the familiar tune they were playing.
“Laura?” Sean repeated.
She involuntarily glanced at the Commander again. He was walking purposefully toward her. She could feel the scorn still emanating from his gaze.
“Ms. Roslin,” he said. She tried to hide her emotions at the sound of her name rolling off his tongue.
“Commander Adama,” she replied. His eyebrows rose slightly; she knew his name and title.
“Laura?” Sean prompted. She glanced at her date wondering spitefully how many times he could utter her name in that inane way.
“Sean, this is Commander William Adama. Commander, Sean Ellison. Sean’s a lawyer with Hockings and Partners.”
“Lawyer?” Adama asked.
“A junior partner to be exact,” Sean said. “And you are a Commander? In the Fleet? What do you command?”
“A battlestar.”
“An entire battlestar?”
“Yes. I’m the Commanding Officer of approximately 4000 crewmembers.”
“That’s an impressive number, Commander,” Laura said.
“It’s an impressive ship,” he murmured.
All three of them stood sipping at their drinks in silence before the Commander broke it with a most unexpected question.
“Would you like to dance?”
“Dance?” Laura repeated in a dazed voice. “With you?”
He calmly held her gaze.
“Yes,” she agreed quickly before she had a chance to change her mind. “Thank you.”
He deposited their drinks to a nearby table before offering his arm to her. Placing her hand upon it, she shivered, feeling the lean muscles of his arms contracting beneath the material of his uniform.
His large hand splayed across the skin of her back as he guided her around the dance floor. She had expected his fingers to feel calloused and rough against her skin. Instead, they were smooth and hot.
Settling herself within the circle of his body with disconcerting ease, she teased him a little. “You’re not going to fall over again, are you?”
“If some exasperating woman’s left her high heels lying around the dance floor, I may.”
She giggled.
“If I do fall, this time I’m taking you down with me.”
She almost whimpered at the erotic images that suddenly flashed through her mind.
“So who’s the other man?”
“Other man? Sean?”
“No, the one you’re using Ellison as some sort of vengeful ploy against.”
Her eyes flashed at his assumptions - correct though they may be.
“What makes you think there’s another man?”
“Ellison doesn’t look like he’d satisfy you for more than a fleeting moment. The ‘all looks and no substance’ type. I think you want more in a man.”
“How the hell would you know what I want in a man? I’m afraid two conversations in a library does not give you free reign to presume anything about my personal life, Commander Adama. “
At his first impudent words, she had pulled back in his arms and made eye contact with him. He had no idea how hypnotising his eyes were.
Suddenly she felt his hand on her back begin to make sweeping circles. She shivered with goose bumps at his touch.
“Excuse me. Laura.”
Her temper flared stronger when she heard his familiar voice.
“Mr. President,” she murmured.
“May I cut in?” Richard Adar asked the Commander. “I need to speak to my Secretary of Education. Considering her appearance tonight, I will probably need to take a number.”
“Of course, Mr. President. Ms. Roslin,” William Adama gave her a distant nod before leaving her alone with Richard Adar.
*
William Adama headed for the bar. He needed a drink -- a strong one.
He wasn’t usually so impolite. He couldn’t believe he had been such an arrogant ass, asking her questions about her love life. Who was he to judge? This was his usual motto. He had no idea what had gotten into him tonight.
She was the Secretary of Education. She was currently dancing with the President of the Twelve Colonies, and he’d had the temerity to be condescending to the extreme.
He knocked back the amber liquid the bartender had poured in one fast gulp.
*
“Who was that?” Richard asked as he drew Laura into his arms for a dance. She noted he was very careful not to put his hands on her bare back. She wondered, almost hysterically, if the heat from William Adama’s touch had left imprints on her skin.
“He’s a Commander in the Fleet.”
“I know that. You said that. But who was he? Is he important? Should I go and talk to him?”
She sighed. Richard Adar - forever the politician. “No. I doubt he’ll be making any donations to your campaign.”
“Why were you dancing with him then?”
This was Richard Adar at his finest. Always looking for what he could get out of every person and situation, he never did anything without a reason.
She decided to give as little information as possible on William Adama.
“He hardly seems your type,” Richard continued before she could answer. “Now, the young Hockings’ litigator, he’s got Laura Roslin written all over him -- pliable, doting -- a virtual pet.”
“It’s none of your business anymore, Richard.”
“Laura, isn’t it time you forgave me?”
“There’s nothing to forgive.” This was true. She had forgiven him for the fiasco he had created with the Union. She had forgiven him for attempting to force her to resign. She had moved on.
“What if I promise to fit you into my schedule on Tuesday?”
She extricated herself from his embrace. Forgiving him for any sticky situations she found herself in because of her position was one thing; falling back into her previous relationship with him was quite another.
“My schedule is fully booked,” she said.
“Laura, you’re being ridiculous.”
“No, actually, for once, I’m not. I’m afraid I don’t wish to dance any longer, Mr. President.”
“Laura…”
“Mr. President,” she ground out. “My date’s father is Niall Ellison. That should be motivation enough for you to smile politely, put your hand on my arm and guide me over to the table.”
She took a step backward. In an instant, Richard plastered a grin on his face, grabbed her arm and escorted her back to her table. He shook Sean’s hand and talked to him for several minutes concerning the legal rights of the Gemonese. Keeping up appearances was Richard Adar’s speciality.
*
Laura Roslin sipped at her coffee and stared down at the blueprints on her desk. The entire idea seemed reasonable to her but what would he think? Would he think it a worthy pursuit or just another Government exercise in public relations?
With a polite knock, Billy entered Laura’s office, followed by two men wearing Colonial uniforms.
“Ms Roslin, nice to meet ya. Admiral Alexander Lincoln,” the first officer, a tall bald man with an obvious Leonis accent, said as he extended his hand. “And this here is Commander William Adama.”
“Yes. I believe we met at last week’s ball, Commander Adama,” she said, holding out her hand.
“Yes, of course, Madam Secretary,” he replied. Fixated on his hands, she willed herself not to react to his touch. It was hopeless. She remembered how they had felt on her bare skin when they danced. She wondered if his stoic expression would crack if she told him about the fantasies she had indulged in during the last few nights about him and his hands.
Showing the men to a seat and offering them coffee, Billy allowed her a moment to compose herself.
“As you may already know then, Bill here is on shore leave for another week, but he’s kindly agreed to attend today’s meeting before he takes up residence on Galactica again,” Admiral Lincoln said.
“Thank you, Commander,” she said. The Admiral had called him Bill. It suited him. Bill was such a strong name - concise, to the point. Commander Adama didn’t look the type to engage in trivial pursuits or small talk. “Have you had a chance to look over the plans?” she asked.
“Yes, Madam Secretary. We have a few suggestions for changes. Mainly security and safety concerns. However, overall, I believe the Fleet will give the project a big green light,” Lincoln answered.
“Excellent,” Laura said. “I’ve advertised in several publications this week for the position of Project Manager. One of their roles will be to liaise between my office and the Fleet. Do you wish me to send you over a short list of possible candidates?”
“Yes, ma’am. That surely would be appreciated,” the Admiral drawled.
“What sort of time frame do we have? I mean, in our initial reports we agreed to a Decommissioning Ceremony in six months. If, however, the refurbishment isn’t complete by this date, will there be any cause for concern?”
“The Galactica isn’t going to fall out of the sky,” Bill Adama growled.
Laura glanced at him and raised an eyebrow. “I should hope not, Commander, given that children will be the main visitors to the battlestar. I was merely asking if we needed to factor in any time and cost contingencies.”
“Well now, ma’am, the thing is you’ll be mostly dealing with the crew of Galactica themselves when it comes to any modifications. And I can guarantee that any crew with Bill here at the helm will have your little flying classroom up and ready in the time allocated.”
“You demand perfection, Commander?” she asked.
“Perfection doesn’t exist. However, I believe I demand a level of competence, Madam Secretary.”
Admiral Lincoln guffawed loudly. “I should think with Saul and Sherman, perfection would be near on darn impossible!”
She was sure, for just a moment, Bill Adama’s lips quirked at the Admiral’s comment.
“What will you do, Commander?” Laura asked on a whim.
“Do?”
“When the Galactica is decommissioned? What are your plans? Will you be taking up a new commission within the Fleet?”
“I haven’t decided yet.”
“Retirement is a possibility?”
“I haven’t decided yet.”
She merely hummed at his second tight lipped response.
“I’m sure we can find Bill something to do down on Picon headquarters if need be,” Lincoln said.
“You’d be happy with that? You wouldn’t yearn for the sea of stars outside your window?” Laura asked.
“Actually, there are no windows in my quarters or the CIC where I spend most of my working day. We have an observation deck that offers a panoramic view.”
“I see.”
“Maybe you should organise a trip on out to Galactica Madam Secretary. To see for yourself before any of the modifications begin.”
“Yes, Admiral Lincoln, that sounds a very good idea.”
*
William Adama slammed his fist into the punching bag with as much force as he could muster. That woman frustrated the hell out of him. The Fleet frustrated the hell out of him.
He had received plans and an official letter from the Admiralty informing him of Galactica’s future via a courier a mere two days ago. The plans, seemingly being so succinct, had obviously been on the drawing board for several months, yet, they had only just decided to inform him.
Laura Roslin… That she had known his name at Carolanne’s stupid charity function surprised him. Now the pieces seemed to fall into place. She probably had an entire dossier on him in the top drawer of her desk.
He still couldn’t believe her final comments about visiting Galactica. He grunted, imagining her in that little black dress from a week ago while on the metal walkways and ladders of his battlestar.
Imagining her lying on his rack while he discovered whether or not she was wearing any underwear under the dress, he took another swing at the bag.
Link to chapter 4