A prayer before dying (part 1)
For lacklusterfic on her birthday, by her (and bugsfic 's) request oh so long ago. Thanks to kastari for her months of beta work.
When it came time, Laura accepted the diloxin calmly. It was preparation for the radiation that made her lose her cool.
"I'm going to have to get tattoos," she complained to Bill.
He feigned disinterest, barely looked up from his stack of reports. She'd been fussing for the past hour and went quiet every time he asked why.
"I'm going to have to get tattoos," she repeated. "On my breast."
He risked a quick glance at her bust line, then at her face. "So?"
"Tattoos are -- they're ugly."
"Ink is beautiful," Bill contradicted her.
"I keep forgetting your family is Tauron."
"My grandmother was inked. She was the most beautiful woman I knew."
"You don't have any tattoos," Laura called him on his hypocrisy.
"My father tried to raise me more Caprican than Caprican. And Carolanne threatened to leave me every time I wanted to get one. I would have been better off with the ink than the marriage."
"You've been divorced a long time."
"By then I'd stopped believing. And I didn't want a record of my failures for everyone to see." He idly rotated his wedding ring, the one mark of failure he allowed.
"Maybe I don't want one either."
-----------------------------------------------------
The next morning he escorted her to Cally Tyrol's service. He could feel Death like a rival, walking alongside them. In an effort to banish it, he blurted out what had kept him up all night. "You know, it's not that bad, getting inked. When I was a little boy I sat next to my father when he got--"
"And I sat next to my mother when she got her radiation tattoos," Laura interrupted. "It's not the same thing."
"You don't have any tattoos yet," Bill called her on her hypocrisy. "You wouldn't know."
They walked on in silence.
"I could go with you."
Laura stopped so abruptly that Bill was two paces ahead before he realized.
"You want to come with me."
Bill turned and nodded.
"To watch me get my breast tattooed." She was mostly successful in containing her giggles.
"I hadn't thought about it that way," Bill said. Until now.
--------------------------------------------------
He was pretty sure Laura got inked the day of Cally's funeral. The too-short medical appointment. The switch from her revealing wrap shirt to buttoned-up blouses. Her silence and her distance. He didn't pursue the subject. It didn't seem appropriate to ask Cottle for specifics, despite the president's health being a fleet concern.
He certainly couldn't ask Laura; the memory of her lips wrapped around the word breast made him dream all sorts of things. Inappropriate things, given the growing despair in the fleet. Given the cancer growing in Laura's body. Given the fact that Laura was missing and only he believed she'd be coming back.
When she'd say the word radiation, it hurt him. When she'd say diloxin, it devastated him. When she'd say cancer it nearly killed him. But he couldn't take any of these words from her and make them his own. He couldn't experience them for her, or even with her. But there was one word in her glossary of disease and treatment that he could claim, could make his own, and he did.
If he was going to give in to one irrational belief, he might as well give in to them all.
-----------------------------------------------------
Laura Roslin changed from a calm, pragmatic, bloody-minded president to a mass of contradictions, a mercurial, temperamental, quicksilver woman. Sometimes he wondered if it was a side effect of the cancer treatments. Sometimes he feared the treatments weren't working and the cancer was advancing to her brain. Sometimes he remembered that aside from fighting next to her and with her for a couple of years, he really didn't know her at all.
He did know they couldn't go on this way. The fleet needed her, and so she needed to continue her treatments. And he needed her -- well, for one thing, he needed her to not kiss him in the corridors of his ship. He needed her not to look so luscious, so flushed and full of life and then leave him high and dry, standing like a gape-mouth fish for his crew to stare at.
"I'll be with the president," he told Saul and then walked wearily to her guest quarters. He needed to lecture her. He didn't know yet what he'd say.
tbc
When it came time, Laura accepted the diloxin calmly. It was preparation for the radiation that made her lose her cool.
"I'm going to have to get tattoos," she complained to Bill.
He feigned disinterest, barely looked up from his stack of reports. She'd been fussing for the past hour and went quiet every time he asked why.
"I'm going to have to get tattoos," she repeated. "On my breast."
He risked a quick glance at her bust line, then at her face. "So?"
"Tattoos are -- they're ugly."
"Ink is beautiful," Bill contradicted her.
"I keep forgetting your family is Tauron."
"My grandmother was inked. She was the most beautiful woman I knew."
"You don't have any tattoos," Laura called him on his hypocrisy.
"My father tried to raise me more Caprican than Caprican. And Carolanne threatened to leave me every time I wanted to get one. I would have been better off with the ink than the marriage."
"You've been divorced a long time."
"By then I'd stopped believing. And I didn't want a record of my failures for everyone to see." He idly rotated his wedding ring, the one mark of failure he allowed.
"Maybe I don't want one either."
-----------------------------------------------------
The next morning he escorted her to Cally Tyrol's service. He could feel Death like a rival, walking alongside them. In an effort to banish it, he blurted out what had kept him up all night. "You know, it's not that bad, getting inked. When I was a little boy I sat next to my father when he got--"
"And I sat next to my mother when she got her radiation tattoos," Laura interrupted. "It's not the same thing."
"You don't have any tattoos yet," Bill called her on her hypocrisy. "You wouldn't know."
They walked on in silence.
"I could go with you."
Laura stopped so abruptly that Bill was two paces ahead before he realized.
"You want to come with me."
Bill turned and nodded.
"To watch me get my breast tattooed." She was mostly successful in containing her giggles.
"I hadn't thought about it that way," Bill said. Until now.
--------------------------------------------------
He was pretty sure Laura got inked the day of Cally's funeral. The too-short medical appointment. The switch from her revealing wrap shirt to buttoned-up blouses. Her silence and her distance. He didn't pursue the subject. It didn't seem appropriate to ask Cottle for specifics, despite the president's health being a fleet concern.
He certainly couldn't ask Laura; the memory of her lips wrapped around the word breast made him dream all sorts of things. Inappropriate things, given the growing despair in the fleet. Given the cancer growing in Laura's body. Given the fact that Laura was missing and only he believed she'd be coming back.
When she'd say the word radiation, it hurt him. When she'd say diloxin, it devastated him. When she'd say cancer it nearly killed him. But he couldn't take any of these words from her and make them his own. He couldn't experience them for her, or even with her. But there was one word in her glossary of disease and treatment that he could claim, could make his own, and he did.
If he was going to give in to one irrational belief, he might as well give in to them all.
-----------------------------------------------------
Laura Roslin changed from a calm, pragmatic, bloody-minded president to a mass of contradictions, a mercurial, temperamental, quicksilver woman. Sometimes he wondered if it was a side effect of the cancer treatments. Sometimes he feared the treatments weren't working and the cancer was advancing to her brain. Sometimes he remembered that aside from fighting next to her and with her for a couple of years, he really didn't know her at all.
He did know they couldn't go on this way. The fleet needed her, and so she needed to continue her treatments. And he needed her -- well, for one thing, he needed her to not kiss him in the corridors of his ship. He needed her not to look so luscious, so flushed and full of life and then leave him high and dry, standing like a gape-mouth fish for his crew to stare at.
"I'll be with the president," he told Saul and then walked wearily to her guest quarters. He needed to lecture her. He didn't know yet what he'd say.
tbc