'To Look Life In The Face' - Adama/Roslin Drabble
Title: To Look Life In The Face
Pairing: Adama/Roslin
Word Count: 200 words
Rating: T
Disclaimer: I don't own Bill or Laura or BSG.
A/N: Written for the lovely sln1's birthday. Her prompt was "account rendered." Much thanks to redrockcan for all of her help as I was writing this. Title credit goes to Virginia Woolf, who is probably turning in her grave right now because I used her brilliant prose for a piece of fan fiction.
“To look life in the face, always, to look life in the face, and to know it for what it is. At last, to love it for what it is, and then to put it away.”
- Virginia Woolf
Living.
Laura forgot what it meant to live. To experience each day rather than tolerate them begrudgingly. To catalogue the passing of time with smiles and laughter, with soft touches and sweet kisses rather than the never ending body tally and the piles of paperwork that accompanied each death.
Laura forgot what it meant to live until Bill Adama showed her its meaning.
Until he took her hand in his hands and pledged never to leave her. Until he wrapped her up in his arms and vowed to always protect her. Until he gently brushed his lips against her own and swore that he would always love her. Until he poured his own beating heart into her soul and declared that he could never be without her.
Accounts, favors, debts that could never be rendered. Gratitude that could never be fully expressed. Love that could never be placed into the confines of words. Empty syllables, false consonants, and cruel sentence endings that yearned to give form to her love for him but could only ever be its sepulcher.
She was indebted to him. Irrevocably stained with his love. Irrevocably stained by her love.
She would never be free of him.
Pairing: Adama/Roslin
Word Count: 200 words
Rating: T
Disclaimer: I don't own Bill or Laura or BSG.
A/N: Written for the lovely sln1's birthday. Her prompt was "account rendered." Much thanks to redrockcan for all of her help as I was writing this. Title credit goes to Virginia Woolf, who is probably turning in her grave right now because I used her brilliant prose for a piece of fan fiction.
“To look life in the face, always, to look life in the face, and to know it for what it is. At last, to love it for what it is, and then to put it away.”
- Virginia Woolf
Living.
Laura forgot what it meant to live. To experience each day rather than tolerate them begrudgingly. To catalogue the passing of time with smiles and laughter, with soft touches and sweet kisses rather than the never ending body tally and the piles of paperwork that accompanied each death.
Laura forgot what it meant to live until Bill Adama showed her its meaning.
Until he took her hand in his hands and pledged never to leave her. Until he wrapped her up in his arms and vowed to always protect her. Until he gently brushed his lips against her own and swore that he would always love her. Until he poured his own beating heart into her soul and declared that he could never be without her.
Accounts, favors, debts that could never be rendered. Gratitude that could never be fully expressed. Love that could never be placed into the confines of words. Empty syllables, false consonants, and cruel sentence endings that yearned to give form to her love for him but could only ever be its sepulcher.
She was indebted to him. Irrevocably stained with his love. Irrevocably stained by her love.
She would never be free of him.