A prayer before dying (part 2)
Part 1 here
He started on neutral ground. "Zarek told us where the tyllium ship is. I've sent Athena to bring it back."
Laura just nodded and continued reading her book.
"Do you care?"
This time she shook her head.
The silence in the room lengthened, became awkward.
"You're supposed to care."
Laura still did not look up from her book. "Why?"
Bill ripped the book from her hands. "You're the president. You're their leader..."
"Blah, blah. We covered that this morning, Bill. It's over. I'm done. For once I'm not looking for something bigger, some grand significance. For once, it's just me. No president, no leader, no prophet…"
"You sound almost like an atheist."
"You mean like you."
He nodded.
"Is that such a bad thing?"
"You can't go changing the terms of our relationship, Laura."
"Why can't I?" She stood, almost bumping in to him. "Why can't we?"
"Because" -- He was lost for words, for a reason. The press? The fleet? Propriety? None of that mattered anymore. None of that should ever have mattered.
"Because sometimes love isn't enough?" Laura finished his sentence, her tone sad.
"No. Never that. Never, Laura. The one thing that's enough is love."
She laughed at him then. "Just look at us, Bill. We love each other and you say that's enough, but look at us. We're a mess. You're turning into Saul Tigh and I'm turning into my mother."
"We're just tired."
"You're tired. I'm experiencing a moment of euphoria, remember? I'm having a good day. Do you even remember what those are? When's the last time you had a good day?"
"Baltar's groundbreaking."
"Me, too. Do you realize how sad that is? The last good day either of us had was half a day over two years ago. Don't we deserve more? There are so few days left, Bill. Who are we redeeming by being miserable?"
Bill chuckled, low and tired. "Next you'll be daring me to prove I'm a man."
"No. But maybe to prove I'm a woman."
He started to laugh and she laughed with him for a while. "No, really, Bill. Look at me. Just look at me. I'm dying. I've been marked. I've been poked and prodded and injected. I've been tattooed and irradiated and poisoned. I've taken pills in every color of the rainbow, and I find myself asking 'for what?' So I can live. And then I find myself asking 'is this life?'."
He started to speak and she silenced him with a gesture. "Do you know what I decided, Bill? Do you know what I decided? That I do want to live. For every minute of every day that's left me, I want to live. I want to feel the sun on my shoulders. I want to stick my feet in a fountain. I want to make love all night. I want to eat raspberries and cream on a lazy Sunday morning." She leaned a little closer, put a hand on his chest. "I can't have those things any more. I'll never have those things any more. I'll never be 20 again. I'll never be free again or healthy. I'll never have anyone--"
"You have me."
Laura smiled at him. "You don't even know what you're letting yourself in for."
"Then show me."
Laura took a step back and unknotted her scarf, slowly drawing it back, off her head. Bill had never seen her bare scalp and for a moment he just stared.
"Pretty bad, huh?"
"Your eyes look enormous. So green." He placed his hands on either side of her head and she flinched.
"The skin is sensitive."
"I'll be gentle." He pulled the crown of her head toward him and covered it with kisses so light they were barely there. He moved down to her cheekbones, so much more prominent than they used to be and to her lips, dry and paper thin.
"Where else?" he whispered against her lips. "Where else do you see your mother?"
She raised her arms, embracing him briefly, then slid them forward onto his chest, exposing the needle marks.
He kissed the too-thin fingers, the dehydrated hand. He tried to soothe the sting of needles and poisons with the tip of his tongue, the suck of his lips. His hands roamed down to her hips, where illness and algae had replaced lush curves with jutting bones. "Where else?"
"Nowhere."
"Laura."
She looked away.
"Just say it."
She took a step back, crossed her arms over her chest. "It's pretty bad."
"Laura…"
"Yeah, yeah. You're Tauron, you'll think it's gorgeous."
Bill reached for her hands, pulled them down to her sides. "Why don't you let me be the judge of what I think is gorgeous?"
Universes were created and destroyed in the time it took her to nod and say "All right."
He reached for the buttons of her shirt, but she stopped him a breath away. "I'm not going to stand here topless while you gawk like I was a freak in some Scorpia sideshow. Come on, off with your jacket. And your tanks."
"But you've already seen my scar."
"Not in years."
"It hasn't gotten any better with age," he grumbled, but did as he was told. It wouldn't do to piss off the president, particularly not when she was offering a glimpse of her breasts as a reward. He turned away and stripped off his tops. By the time he turned back Laura's shirt was off, too.
He tried to be a gentleman. He didn't immediately look down. Instead he stepped closer and pressed his lips to hers, stroking the smooth skin of her scalp with his fingertips. He felt her breasts against his chest, felt his heart skip a beat. "May I?"
She put a hand on his shoulder, holding him close enough that he couldn't see anything. "It feels so -- clinical in here. Bright." She looked around the room. "I've got some candles."
"I'll light them."
"I'll turn down the bed. No peeking."
He groaned, but managed to keep his eyes up as he turned away. For the most part; he certainly didn't see any more than he saw in some of her shirts.
By the time he was done with the candles and the soft lights Laura was in the rack with the covers around her. He knelt on the floor next to her, stroked her arm from shoulder to hand. "It's all right Laura. If you don't want to. It's --"
"No, I want to. I don't want the last man to see them to be Cottle."
She rose up slightly on her elbows and Bill slowly pulled the blanket down. He looked, stared, fell back on his heels.
"Say something."
He opened his mouth, but what came out was somewhere between a groan and a giggle.
She reached down for the blanket, met his hand at her waist.
"Laura. It's just--"
"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have expected you to---"
"Laura." He used his command voice, the voice that required you give him your eyes, follow him past the red line, trust him with your heart. "Over twenty thousand men in the Fleet, and every single one of them would give anything to change places with me right now."
"Only because you have a thing for tattoos on women my age."
Bill remembered then why he was there. He reached out a tentative hand; his breath sounded harsh in his ears. "The left?"
Laura nodded, and Bill touched the tips of his fingers to the outside of her breast. "No, higher up," she directed. Her fingers on his guided him.
"It feels like a rock." He had expected it to be bigger. He had expected it to be as large as the impact it was having on their lives. He bent his head and touched the lump with his lips, whispering a wish it go away again as it had before. He felt Laura's hand in his hair and sat back up. "Now, where are those tattoos you keep complaining about?"
"Right there."
"I don't see them. You sure you got them?"
"Quite sure."
"Invisible ink?"
"Funny." She guided his hands to several large freckles. "Here. And here. And here."
Now that he looked closely he could see the differing color, slightly gray instead of a faded tan. "You call this ink?"
"It's not that bad?"
"If you hadn't told me, I wouldn't have noticed them. And to think that I went and…"
"And what?"
"Never mind."
"Bill." She had a command voice of her own, a voice that made you give up years of warrior instincts, made you speak in legends, made you believe in the future.
"You impugned my masculinity."
She choked back a giggle. "Never."
His smile was broad enough to expose his crooked bottom teeth, a smile he rarely showed. "You implied I wasn't man enough to go through what you went through."
"You went and got yourself cancer," Laura guessed, teasing.
His hand returned to her breast. "If I could take yours from you, I would."
The moment threatened to become too full of things better left unsaid. "Then what--" Her eyes swept his body. "You didn't."
"I certainly did."
"I don't see any ink."
"I didn't see any on you."
"You got teeny little dots?"
Bill rose from the floor. Nudging her with his hip, he sat on the rack. "So when they're on my body they're teeny little dots, but on yours they're huge ugly tattoos?"
She shrugged. "Caught. I'm a politician. Pretty much synonymous with being a hypocrite."
"Well, then Madam Hypocrite, let me just tell you that the way you were whining, I thought you'd be getting serious ink. In all good conscience, I could do no less."
Laura sat up then, curious. "Where? Nothing on your chest."
"I think my chest is marked up enough, don't you?"
"So where?" She leaned forward to look at his back.
"Figure it out for yourself."
She sat up on her knees, looking him over from head to waist, even having him lift his arms. "Below the buckle?"
"Knew you didn't get to be president just on good looks and charm."
"Well, then, strip."
"Are you trying to seduce me?"
A faint smile was sketched on her face. "I would have thought that was patently obvious."
Bill removed his shoes, socks, and reached for his belt buckle. "Hey, I'm not going to be stared at like some freak in a Scorpia sideshow. Lose your own pants, Roslin."
"Sir, yes, sir, anything you say, sir," she laughed and scooted under the blanket. A moment later a wad of clothing was kicked out onto the floor and a pair of expectant eyes watched him.
"No peeking, remember? Turn toward the wall," Bill ordered. Within minutes he climbed into the rack behind her, naked and warm, and wrapped an arm around her. His hand once again found her traitorous breast with its tiny off-color marks. This time he allowed himself to touch her and not the cancer. His fingertips brushed against her nipple lightly.
"Never going to find your tattoo this way," Laura complained, but at the same time pushed her hips back to meet his growing erection. "Your tattoo -- it's not one of those ridiculous trick tattoos, is it?"
He hummed a question onto her scalp in between kisses.
"You know. On your penis. Like a question mark that turns into an exclamation point when you let someone marvel at how huge you are."
"I don’t need a tattoo to make a woman marvel at my dick." He flexed his hips into her ass to prove his point and quieted her laugh by rolling her nipple between his thumb and forefinger.
She reached back to run a hand along his side. "Not your lower back. A tramp stamp is too girly for you."
"I'm no girl."
"I've noticed. Now would you let me turn over so I can find your tattoo and congratulate you on your rampant masculinity?"
"I'll show you rampant masculinity."
"Please do." Laura reached up to take his hand and freed herself enough to roll over onto her back. Before she could turn further Bill's lips were on hers.
She started to touch him, but he reached across her and held her arms still as his lips traveled from her mouth to her neck to her collarbone.
"Bill."
"Relax. Let me take--"
She stiffened. "Don't you get it? Gods. I don't want you to take care of me."
"It's not the same thing."
"With you, it would be."
They lay silently, not looking at each other.
tbc
He started on neutral ground. "Zarek told us where the tyllium ship is. I've sent Athena to bring it back."
Laura just nodded and continued reading her book.
"Do you care?"
This time she shook her head.
The silence in the room lengthened, became awkward.
"You're supposed to care."
Laura still did not look up from her book. "Why?"
Bill ripped the book from her hands. "You're the president. You're their leader..."
"Blah, blah. We covered that this morning, Bill. It's over. I'm done. For once I'm not looking for something bigger, some grand significance. For once, it's just me. No president, no leader, no prophet…"
"You sound almost like an atheist."
"You mean like you."
He nodded.
"Is that such a bad thing?"
"You can't go changing the terms of our relationship, Laura."
"Why can't I?" She stood, almost bumping in to him. "Why can't we?"
"Because" -- He was lost for words, for a reason. The press? The fleet? Propriety? None of that mattered anymore. None of that should ever have mattered.
"Because sometimes love isn't enough?" Laura finished his sentence, her tone sad.
"No. Never that. Never, Laura. The one thing that's enough is love."
She laughed at him then. "Just look at us, Bill. We love each other and you say that's enough, but look at us. We're a mess. You're turning into Saul Tigh and I'm turning into my mother."
"We're just tired."
"You're tired. I'm experiencing a moment of euphoria, remember? I'm having a good day. Do you even remember what those are? When's the last time you had a good day?"
"Baltar's groundbreaking."
"Me, too. Do you realize how sad that is? The last good day either of us had was half a day over two years ago. Don't we deserve more? There are so few days left, Bill. Who are we redeeming by being miserable?"
Bill chuckled, low and tired. "Next you'll be daring me to prove I'm a man."
"No. But maybe to prove I'm a woman."
He started to laugh and she laughed with him for a while. "No, really, Bill. Look at me. Just look at me. I'm dying. I've been marked. I've been poked and prodded and injected. I've been tattooed and irradiated and poisoned. I've taken pills in every color of the rainbow, and I find myself asking 'for what?' So I can live. And then I find myself asking 'is this life?'."
He started to speak and she silenced him with a gesture. "Do you know what I decided, Bill? Do you know what I decided? That I do want to live. For every minute of every day that's left me, I want to live. I want to feel the sun on my shoulders. I want to stick my feet in a fountain. I want to make love all night. I want to eat raspberries and cream on a lazy Sunday morning." She leaned a little closer, put a hand on his chest. "I can't have those things any more. I'll never have those things any more. I'll never be 20 again. I'll never be free again or healthy. I'll never have anyone--"
"You have me."
Laura smiled at him. "You don't even know what you're letting yourself in for."
"Then show me."
Laura took a step back and unknotted her scarf, slowly drawing it back, off her head. Bill had never seen her bare scalp and for a moment he just stared.
"Pretty bad, huh?"
"Your eyes look enormous. So green." He placed his hands on either side of her head and she flinched.
"The skin is sensitive."
"I'll be gentle." He pulled the crown of her head toward him and covered it with kisses so light they were barely there. He moved down to her cheekbones, so much more prominent than they used to be and to her lips, dry and paper thin.
"Where else?" he whispered against her lips. "Where else do you see your mother?"
She raised her arms, embracing him briefly, then slid them forward onto his chest, exposing the needle marks.
He kissed the too-thin fingers, the dehydrated hand. He tried to soothe the sting of needles and poisons with the tip of his tongue, the suck of his lips. His hands roamed down to her hips, where illness and algae had replaced lush curves with jutting bones. "Where else?"
"Nowhere."
"Laura."
She looked away.
"Just say it."
She took a step back, crossed her arms over her chest. "It's pretty bad."
"Laura…"
"Yeah, yeah. You're Tauron, you'll think it's gorgeous."
Bill reached for her hands, pulled them down to her sides. "Why don't you let me be the judge of what I think is gorgeous?"
Universes were created and destroyed in the time it took her to nod and say "All right."
He reached for the buttons of her shirt, but she stopped him a breath away. "I'm not going to stand here topless while you gawk like I was a freak in some Scorpia sideshow. Come on, off with your jacket. And your tanks."
"But you've already seen my scar."
"Not in years."
"It hasn't gotten any better with age," he grumbled, but did as he was told. It wouldn't do to piss off the president, particularly not when she was offering a glimpse of her breasts as a reward. He turned away and stripped off his tops. By the time he turned back Laura's shirt was off, too.
He tried to be a gentleman. He didn't immediately look down. Instead he stepped closer and pressed his lips to hers, stroking the smooth skin of her scalp with his fingertips. He felt her breasts against his chest, felt his heart skip a beat. "May I?"
She put a hand on his shoulder, holding him close enough that he couldn't see anything. "It feels so -- clinical in here. Bright." She looked around the room. "I've got some candles."
"I'll light them."
"I'll turn down the bed. No peeking."
He groaned, but managed to keep his eyes up as he turned away. For the most part; he certainly didn't see any more than he saw in some of her shirts.
By the time he was done with the candles and the soft lights Laura was in the rack with the covers around her. He knelt on the floor next to her, stroked her arm from shoulder to hand. "It's all right Laura. If you don't want to. It's --"
"No, I want to. I don't want the last man to see them to be Cottle."
She rose up slightly on her elbows and Bill slowly pulled the blanket down. He looked, stared, fell back on his heels.
"Say something."
He opened his mouth, but what came out was somewhere between a groan and a giggle.
She reached down for the blanket, met his hand at her waist.
"Laura. It's just--"
"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have expected you to---"
"Laura." He used his command voice, the voice that required you give him your eyes, follow him past the red line, trust him with your heart. "Over twenty thousand men in the Fleet, and every single one of them would give anything to change places with me right now."
"Only because you have a thing for tattoos on women my age."
Bill remembered then why he was there. He reached out a tentative hand; his breath sounded harsh in his ears. "The left?"
Laura nodded, and Bill touched the tips of his fingers to the outside of her breast. "No, higher up," she directed. Her fingers on his guided him.
"It feels like a rock." He had expected it to be bigger. He had expected it to be as large as the impact it was having on their lives. He bent his head and touched the lump with his lips, whispering a wish it go away again as it had before. He felt Laura's hand in his hair and sat back up. "Now, where are those tattoos you keep complaining about?"
"Right there."
"I don't see them. You sure you got them?"
"Quite sure."
"Invisible ink?"
"Funny." She guided his hands to several large freckles. "Here. And here. And here."
Now that he looked closely he could see the differing color, slightly gray instead of a faded tan. "You call this ink?"
"It's not that bad?"
"If you hadn't told me, I wouldn't have noticed them. And to think that I went and…"
"And what?"
"Never mind."
"Bill." She had a command voice of her own, a voice that made you give up years of warrior instincts, made you speak in legends, made you believe in the future.
"You impugned my masculinity."
She choked back a giggle. "Never."
His smile was broad enough to expose his crooked bottom teeth, a smile he rarely showed. "You implied I wasn't man enough to go through what you went through."
"You went and got yourself cancer," Laura guessed, teasing.
His hand returned to her breast. "If I could take yours from you, I would."
The moment threatened to become too full of things better left unsaid. "Then what--" Her eyes swept his body. "You didn't."
"I certainly did."
"I don't see any ink."
"I didn't see any on you."
"You got teeny little dots?"
Bill rose from the floor. Nudging her with his hip, he sat on the rack. "So when they're on my body they're teeny little dots, but on yours they're huge ugly tattoos?"
She shrugged. "Caught. I'm a politician. Pretty much synonymous with being a hypocrite."
"Well, then Madam Hypocrite, let me just tell you that the way you were whining, I thought you'd be getting serious ink. In all good conscience, I could do no less."
Laura sat up then, curious. "Where? Nothing on your chest."
"I think my chest is marked up enough, don't you?"
"So where?" She leaned forward to look at his back.
"Figure it out for yourself."
She sat up on her knees, looking him over from head to waist, even having him lift his arms. "Below the buckle?"
"Knew you didn't get to be president just on good looks and charm."
"Well, then, strip."
"Are you trying to seduce me?"
A faint smile was sketched on her face. "I would have thought that was patently obvious."
Bill removed his shoes, socks, and reached for his belt buckle. "Hey, I'm not going to be stared at like some freak in a Scorpia sideshow. Lose your own pants, Roslin."
"Sir, yes, sir, anything you say, sir," she laughed and scooted under the blanket. A moment later a wad of clothing was kicked out onto the floor and a pair of expectant eyes watched him.
"No peeking, remember? Turn toward the wall," Bill ordered. Within minutes he climbed into the rack behind her, naked and warm, and wrapped an arm around her. His hand once again found her traitorous breast with its tiny off-color marks. This time he allowed himself to touch her and not the cancer. His fingertips brushed against her nipple lightly.
"Never going to find your tattoo this way," Laura complained, but at the same time pushed her hips back to meet his growing erection. "Your tattoo -- it's not one of those ridiculous trick tattoos, is it?"
He hummed a question onto her scalp in between kisses.
"You know. On your penis. Like a question mark that turns into an exclamation point when you let someone marvel at how huge you are."
"I don’t need a tattoo to make a woman marvel at my dick." He flexed his hips into her ass to prove his point and quieted her laugh by rolling her nipple between his thumb and forefinger.
She reached back to run a hand along his side. "Not your lower back. A tramp stamp is too girly for you."
"I'm no girl."
"I've noticed. Now would you let me turn over so I can find your tattoo and congratulate you on your rampant masculinity?"
"I'll show you rampant masculinity."
"Please do." Laura reached up to take his hand and freed herself enough to roll over onto her back. Before she could turn further Bill's lips were on hers.
She started to touch him, but he reached across her and held her arms still as his lips traveled from her mouth to her neck to her collarbone.
"Bill."
"Relax. Let me take--"
She stiffened. "Don't you get it? Gods. I don't want you to take care of me."
"It's not the same thing."
"With you, it would be."
They lay silently, not looking at each other.
tbc