"The Best Medicine" - Adama/Roslin Fic
Title: The Best Medicine
Pairing: Adama/Roslin, Cottle
Rating: T
Word Count: 1,508 words
Disclaimer: Not my characters or television show.
A/N: Written for the battleship challenge at about_time for Team Laura. Thanks to redrockcan for her beta and encouragement.
Sherman Cottle took an especially long drag of his cigarette while William Adama stood before him, hands clasped somewhat awkwardly in front of him, and a determined glare on his face.
There were days that one really hated their frakking job. Today was definitely one of them. After a sixteen hour shift, he had retreated hastily to his office, intent on enjoying a few cigarettes and then a few hours of sleep before the madness started all over again. His intentions were brought to a screeching halt when he encountered Admiral Adama waiting patiently inside of his sanctuary. Muttering a low curse, and swiftly shutting his door to wandering eyes and ears, he turned to face his unannounced visitor.
“Well I don’t have all day so just spit it out,” he grumbled after a moment. Adama’s jaw tightened and his gaze hardened. Like that’s going to work on me, Cottle’s returning glare seemed to shout.
“I have a few questions,” Bill started. Cottle lit a cigarette from the pack on his desk. It was going to be one of those conversations.
“You don’t say. Let’s cut through the bullshit here because like you, I’ve had a long day. You want to know the details about the President’s treatments. I am bound by doctor patient confidentiality and cannot pass along any information unless she has authorized me to. That particular moral code means frak all to you in this circumstance. You’ve probably already asked Laura, but she’s told you to frak off and mind your own business because she doesn’t want you to think of her as a dying woman. You feel useless because you want to do everything in your power to protect her from an enemy that you can’t even properly identify, and she certainly isn’t making it any easier for you. I got that about right?” Cottle said between puffs of his cigarette.
“That’s about right, yes,” Bill said. “But let me cut through the bullshit here. You know that her safety and wellbeing is my responsibility as her military commander. She’s the most stubborn woman we’ve both ever met and you know that she won’t take care of herself unless someone forces her to. Despite your cantankerous attitude and appalling bedside manner, you care about her as a patient and as your friend and you honestly want the best for her as well. You know that I am not leaving this office until I have what I want,” he said.
Cottle regarded him for a moment, stubbed out his cigarette in a nearby kidney dish and sighed.
“The two of you really are well suited. You’re both stubborn as mules. I’m surprised you haven’t argued one another to death yet,” he grumbled.
“Sherman,” Bill implored in his most authoritative tone.
“She’s starting her first round of doloxin in three days. It’s going to knock her on her ass. She’s going to have to come to terms with several physical changes; weight loss, hair loss, weakening of her muscles and bones. She will bruise easily, loose her appetite, and experience prolonged bouts of nausea. Her skin will become very dry and likely crack, which will become problematic as any open sores or wounds will become very dangerous as possible ways of becoming infected,” Cottle said. “There are also other side effects, emotional consequences that stem from the physical changes that her body will endure.”
Bill nodded his understanding eagerly.
“She will be moody and unpleasant on her better days. There is the risk of her becoming depressed; she will resent her lack of control over her body and over her reactions. She won’t be able to have sex during treatments, due to her immune system being totally destroyed. To be honest, sex will be her body’s least concern, but if she’s unable to experience pleasure, which is very likely, that’s not going to help her morale. I suggest that the two of you talk about other ways you can enjoy each other’s company that is still romantically intimate, but that does not put her under any sort of pressure or make her feel guilty for not being able to respond the way she’d like to,” Cottle paused for a moment to take in Bill’s baffled expression. “You want to take notes?” he asked sarcastically.
“I,” Bill cleared his throat, “that is to say, we’ve… We’re not engaged in a sexually intimate relationship,” he said quietly.
“Oh,” it was Cottle’s turn to be baffled. “I see. I apologize for the assumption,” he said sincerely. “I had just assumed that the two of you were romantic partners.”
“It’s, complicated,” Bill offered lamely. “And it’s not something that I feel entirely comfortable talking about,” he added.
“Right, so,” he continued on briskly, “the best thing you can do is just be there for her. There will be times where she herself may not even know what it is she needs, my advice is to just be present for her during her more difficult days. Don’t push her,” he warned. “Let her have her moods, let her cry, let her be angry and frustrated. It’s natural and legitimate for her to be feeling those emotions, but the key is not to let her become consumed by them. Give her hope; give her a reason to suffer through each treatment. Give her a reason to live,” Cottle advised.
“I understand,” Bill responded.
“The rest is up in the air. I won’t know how good her chances are until after a few rounds of doloxin, then I’ll be able to asses how well she’s responded and then make an estimate as to how valuable I think the treatments will be for her. Her mother died half way through her second treatment, but since I don’t have access to her family history, or any of her own previous medical records, it’s difficult to approximate how many rounds of doloxin I think she can survive,” Cottle informed him.
“She’ll respond well,” Bill said determinedly. “She’s a fighter.”
Cottle did not respond; he could only give Bill a sympathetic look.
“I have just one more question,” Bill said. “Why are you telling me all of this? What happened to patient doctor confidentiality?” he asked. “I must admit that I had expected you to give me a much harder time.”
Again, Cottle did not respond at first. Instead, he walked around his desk and shuffled through a few of the folders stacked on his desk. Locating one of the thicker ones, he pulled out the first page and handed it to Bill.
“I said that I was bound to the rules confidentiality unless she authorized me to share her medical records with you,” he said cryptically as Bill began to read.
Patient name: Laura Roslin
Age: 53
Weight: 123 lbs.
Height: 5ft 5 inches
Pre-existing health issues: asthma, lactose intolerant
Additional notes: Patient has stage one breast cancer after one year of remission. Has previously undergone experimental treatment (detailed results on page 9). Good candidate for standard doloxin treatments.
UPDATE: Patient has agreed to commence doloxin treatments.
Current medications: chamalla extract dissolved in tea,
UPDATE: Once treatments begin the patient will be prescribed morpha along with the standard doloxin treatment. Expected that chamalla dosages will increase in frequency and in strength.
Next of kin: Family deceased, no children. Partner: William Joseph Adama
Bill read the last line three times.
Next of kin: Family deceased, no children. Partner: William Joseph Adama.
“She had me update her file shortly after you rescued us from New Caprica,” Cottle informed him. “Said that it was imperative that you be listed as her next of kin. She chose the word “partner” herself by the way. At first I thought that it was a security thing, or maybe even political. But now, I can’t say that Laura Roslin was motivated by something so fickle. What do you think?” Cottle gave him a significant look.
“I think that you’ve been especially helpful Major, and I appreciate that greatly.” Bill handed the paper with Cottle’s scribbles back to its owner. With his brow furrowed, Cottle hastily shoved it back in her file.
“Wait just a minute. What are you going to do?” he asked with a barely concealed grin on his face.
“Be there for her, give her a reason to put up with visiting you for several hours a week,” he said. “Give her a reason to hope,” he said, echoing the doctor’s earlier advice.
Love her, care for her. Spend the little time that we have left enjoying what we have. Make sure that she leaves this world knowing that she is loved completely and unreservedly.
Unspoken words passed between them, and they each nodded in understanding, and in thanks.
As soldiers, they each recognized the reality of the long and strenuous battle ahead of them. As men of honor and as soldiers bound by duty and love and friendship, they vowed to fight until the very end by Laura’s side. Never leave a man behind; they would not let her go.
Pairing: Adama/Roslin, Cottle
Rating: T
Word Count: 1,508 words
Disclaimer: Not my characters or television show.
A/N: Written for the battleship challenge at about_time for Team Laura. Thanks to redrockcan for her beta and encouragement.
Sherman Cottle took an especially long drag of his cigarette while William Adama stood before him, hands clasped somewhat awkwardly in front of him, and a determined glare on his face.
There were days that one really hated their frakking job. Today was definitely one of them. After a sixteen hour shift, he had retreated hastily to his office, intent on enjoying a few cigarettes and then a few hours of sleep before the madness started all over again. His intentions were brought to a screeching halt when he encountered Admiral Adama waiting patiently inside of his sanctuary. Muttering a low curse, and swiftly shutting his door to wandering eyes and ears, he turned to face his unannounced visitor.
“Well I don’t have all day so just spit it out,” he grumbled after a moment. Adama’s jaw tightened and his gaze hardened. Like that’s going to work on me, Cottle’s returning glare seemed to shout.
“I have a few questions,” Bill started. Cottle lit a cigarette from the pack on his desk. It was going to be one of those conversations.
“You don’t say. Let’s cut through the bullshit here because like you, I’ve had a long day. You want to know the details about the President’s treatments. I am bound by doctor patient confidentiality and cannot pass along any information unless she has authorized me to. That particular moral code means frak all to you in this circumstance. You’ve probably already asked Laura, but she’s told you to frak off and mind your own business because she doesn’t want you to think of her as a dying woman. You feel useless because you want to do everything in your power to protect her from an enemy that you can’t even properly identify, and she certainly isn’t making it any easier for you. I got that about right?” Cottle said between puffs of his cigarette.
“That’s about right, yes,” Bill said. “But let me cut through the bullshit here. You know that her safety and wellbeing is my responsibility as her military commander. She’s the most stubborn woman we’ve both ever met and you know that she won’t take care of herself unless someone forces her to. Despite your cantankerous attitude and appalling bedside manner, you care about her as a patient and as your friend and you honestly want the best for her as well. You know that I am not leaving this office until I have what I want,” he said.
Cottle regarded him for a moment, stubbed out his cigarette in a nearby kidney dish and sighed.
“The two of you really are well suited. You’re both stubborn as mules. I’m surprised you haven’t argued one another to death yet,” he grumbled.
“Sherman,” Bill implored in his most authoritative tone.
“She’s starting her first round of doloxin in three days. It’s going to knock her on her ass. She’s going to have to come to terms with several physical changes; weight loss, hair loss, weakening of her muscles and bones. She will bruise easily, loose her appetite, and experience prolonged bouts of nausea. Her skin will become very dry and likely crack, which will become problematic as any open sores or wounds will become very dangerous as possible ways of becoming infected,” Cottle said. “There are also other side effects, emotional consequences that stem from the physical changes that her body will endure.”
Bill nodded his understanding eagerly.
“She will be moody and unpleasant on her better days. There is the risk of her becoming depressed; she will resent her lack of control over her body and over her reactions. She won’t be able to have sex during treatments, due to her immune system being totally destroyed. To be honest, sex will be her body’s least concern, but if she’s unable to experience pleasure, which is very likely, that’s not going to help her morale. I suggest that the two of you talk about other ways you can enjoy each other’s company that is still romantically intimate, but that does not put her under any sort of pressure or make her feel guilty for not being able to respond the way she’d like to,” Cottle paused for a moment to take in Bill’s baffled expression. “You want to take notes?” he asked sarcastically.
“I,” Bill cleared his throat, “that is to say, we’ve… We’re not engaged in a sexually intimate relationship,” he said quietly.
“Oh,” it was Cottle’s turn to be baffled. “I see. I apologize for the assumption,” he said sincerely. “I had just assumed that the two of you were romantic partners.”
“It’s, complicated,” Bill offered lamely. “And it’s not something that I feel entirely comfortable talking about,” he added.
“Right, so,” he continued on briskly, “the best thing you can do is just be there for her. There will be times where she herself may not even know what it is she needs, my advice is to just be present for her during her more difficult days. Don’t push her,” he warned. “Let her have her moods, let her cry, let her be angry and frustrated. It’s natural and legitimate for her to be feeling those emotions, but the key is not to let her become consumed by them. Give her hope; give her a reason to suffer through each treatment. Give her a reason to live,” Cottle advised.
“I understand,” Bill responded.
“The rest is up in the air. I won’t know how good her chances are until after a few rounds of doloxin, then I’ll be able to asses how well she’s responded and then make an estimate as to how valuable I think the treatments will be for her. Her mother died half way through her second treatment, but since I don’t have access to her family history, or any of her own previous medical records, it’s difficult to approximate how many rounds of doloxin I think she can survive,” Cottle informed him.
“She’ll respond well,” Bill said determinedly. “She’s a fighter.”
Cottle did not respond; he could only give Bill a sympathetic look.
“I have just one more question,” Bill said. “Why are you telling me all of this? What happened to patient doctor confidentiality?” he asked. “I must admit that I had expected you to give me a much harder time.”
Again, Cottle did not respond at first. Instead, he walked around his desk and shuffled through a few of the folders stacked on his desk. Locating one of the thicker ones, he pulled out the first page and handed it to Bill.
“I said that I was bound to the rules confidentiality unless she authorized me to share her medical records with you,” he said cryptically as Bill began to read.
Patient name: Laura Roslin
Age: 53
Weight: 123 lbs.
Height: 5ft 5 inches
Pre-existing health issues: asthma, lactose intolerant
Additional notes: Patient has stage one breast cancer after one year of remission. Has previously undergone experimental treatment (detailed results on page 9). Good candidate for standard doloxin treatments.
UPDATE: Patient has agreed to commence doloxin treatments.
Current medications: chamalla extract dissolved in tea,
UPDATE: Once treatments begin the patient will be prescribed morpha along with the standard doloxin treatment. Expected that chamalla dosages will increase in frequency and in strength.
Next of kin: Family deceased, no children. Partner: William Joseph Adama
Bill read the last line three times.
Next of kin: Family deceased, no children. Partner: William Joseph Adama.
“She had me update her file shortly after you rescued us from New Caprica,” Cottle informed him. “Said that it was imperative that you be listed as her next of kin. She chose the word “partner” herself by the way. At first I thought that it was a security thing, or maybe even political. But now, I can’t say that Laura Roslin was motivated by something so fickle. What do you think?” Cottle gave him a significant look.
“I think that you’ve been especially helpful Major, and I appreciate that greatly.” Bill handed the paper with Cottle’s scribbles back to its owner. With his brow furrowed, Cottle hastily shoved it back in her file.
“Wait just a minute. What are you going to do?” he asked with a barely concealed grin on his face.
“Be there for her, give her a reason to put up with visiting you for several hours a week,” he said. “Give her a reason to hope,” he said, echoing the doctor’s earlier advice.
Love her, care for her. Spend the little time that we have left enjoying what we have. Make sure that she leaves this world knowing that she is loved completely and unreservedly.
Unspoken words passed between them, and they each nodded in understanding, and in thanks.
As soldiers, they each recognized the reality of the long and strenuous battle ahead of them. As men of honor and as soldiers bound by duty and love and friendship, they vowed to fight until the very end by Laura’s side. Never leave a man behind; they would not let her go.