Caprican Times Chapter 4 -- Happy birthday, Lack!
Just in time for lacklusterfic's birthday is the latest installment of Caprican Times. Isn't it good people have birthdays so I remember to update?
Last chapter Lack commented
Now I'm dying to know where they're going to go to have this talk, and if Laura really is in dangerSo....
Previous chapters here, here, and here. The drabble about Bill's past which is referred to below is here.
Graphic by the ever-amazing sczep84
"Come on, Laura, I'm going to take you home." Bill wrapped an arm around Laura's shoulders and pulled her along. "Maybe I'm the suicidal one. There are probably a dozen foot soldiers watching your every move, and I'm going to take you to my apartment."
Laura tried to pull away. "You don't have to. I can call a cab."
"You think any of the cabbies around here aren't paying Cain percentages? Even you can't be that naïve. Best place for you right now is indoors." Without waiting for an answer he pulled her closer and started walking.
Two blocks later they stopped in front of a seedy looking bar. "Come on."
"I thought you were taking me to your apartment."
"I am."
"You live above a bar? I know I'm paying you enough to afford something decent."
"We won’t go in through the bar. I'd rather not have people know you've been here."
"That's fine. I'd rather no one know I've been here, either."
He let her loose long enough to fish a key from his pocket and open a nondescript door. "First rule of journalism Bill Adama style: never judge on looks."
Laura rocked back on her heels and gave him a long look, head to toe and back again. "I guess you learned that rule the hard way."
"Watch your step going up the stairs. Wouldn't want you to trip and sprain your attitude, Ms. Roslin."
Laura started to climb the tight circular staircase. "You've got to be kidding. How many flights is this thing?"
Bill followed behind her, close but not too close. "Not enough. Not nearly enough."
He'd have thought that climbing five flights of stairs would get her breathless, but he'd underestimated Laura Roslin. She might be breathing hard, but her mouth never quit.
"You knew who your source was. You knew who she is. You took me to meet the head of the Ha'la'tha and you didn't tell me. You were just setting me up for trouble, weren't you?"
Bill climbed these stairs everyday, but tonight his breath was coming a little faster, too. "It was Cain's condition. She doesn't go around broadcasting who she is."
"You work for her, Bill? Or for me?"
"Don’t ever think my loyalty can be bought, Mrs. Adar."
"Just rented by the hou--" Laura stepped off the top stair and straight into Adama's living room. "This is…it's…"
"That's what they all say."
Bill let her wander around the room. Visitors to his home always took the same route: first the glass wall with the view of the Caprica City skyline, then back along the bookcase-laden walls to the fireplace and his Monclair, then back to the windows. Few noticed his bachelor's bed, tucked into a corner, or his overburdened desk.
As expected, Laura came to a halt in front of his picture. "I guess I am paying you enough."
"It was my father's. Got it from Daniel Greystone."
"My, my, someone has connections."
"You haven't done too badly yourself, Mrs. Adar."
She threw a quick glance at him over her shoulder and he thought he could see something dark and dangerous in her eyes, but she chose to retreat instead of attack. In her progress from fireplace to windows she trailed a finger along his bookshelves. "Custom made, I assume." Her voice held something -- Surprise? Contempt? Amusement? -- that he was afraid to define.
"Yes."
"I'm definitely paying you enough."
"I built them myself. Built everything in here."
She stopped, turned around to face him. "I'm surprised. There seems to be a great deal I should get to know about you, Mr. Adama. Like your skill with your hands. Like your connections to the Ha'la'tha."
"Which would you like to find out about first, Laura?"
She walked toward him, squeezing between his body and the coffee table to sit on the couch. "Tell me about the Ha'la'tha. Tell me why I should trust you."
"I came to work for the Times when I was 16," Bill started.
"You were working for the Guatrau. Don't look so surprised, Adama. Richard told me. He told me quite a lot about you."
"Then you know everything you need to know. Either you trust me or you don't."
"I know the past. I need you to tell me about the present. About why you took me to Cain without warning me. I know I can trust you with my paper, but now you're asking me to trust you with my life."
"You're being melodramatic."
"You're the one who said there were foot soldiers watching us. You're the one who called me suicidal for challenging Cain. You --" Realization dawned. "You wanted to see me scared, didn't you?"
"No!" Her eyes narrowed and he fidgeted. Damn, she would have made a fine schoolteacher. "Yes. A little. But I thought you knew. It's an open secret."
"Maybe in Little Tauron. But as you like to remind me, I live in the rarefied air of City Heights."
"Then I apologize. But it's not as bad as all that. If Cain wanted you dead, you'd already be dead. There would be a small army at my door."
As though he'd timed it, they heard footsteps on the stairs.
"Your wife?" Laura asked.
"Divorced." His voice was a whisper in her ear as he pulled her to standing.
"Kids?"
"My son's on a ship somewhere around Picon."
"Your lover?"
"Go hide in my bed, Laura. Maybe they won't see you."
"I'm not going anywhere. If it's Cain, I'd rather face her on my feet. Got a gun?"
"I've got my fists."
Two men in black suits and shiny shoes interrupted their conference. "Mr. Adama? Ms. Roslin?" They flashed badges. "The vice president would like to see you. Now."
Bill's hand against her lower back led Laura toward the security agents. "Looks like this is your lucky night, Roslin. You get to meet both my sources."
Last chapter Lack commented
Now I'm dying to know where they're going to go to have this talk, and if Laura really is in dangerSo....
Previous chapters here, here, and here. The drabble about Bill's past which is referred to below is here.
Graphic by the ever-amazing sczep84
"Come on, Laura, I'm going to take you home." Bill wrapped an arm around Laura's shoulders and pulled her along. "Maybe I'm the suicidal one. There are probably a dozen foot soldiers watching your every move, and I'm going to take you to my apartment."
Laura tried to pull away. "You don't have to. I can call a cab."
"You think any of the cabbies around here aren't paying Cain percentages? Even you can't be that naïve. Best place for you right now is indoors." Without waiting for an answer he pulled her closer and started walking.
Two blocks later they stopped in front of a seedy looking bar. "Come on."
"I thought you were taking me to your apartment."
"I am."
"You live above a bar? I know I'm paying you enough to afford something decent."
"We won’t go in through the bar. I'd rather not have people know you've been here."
"That's fine. I'd rather no one know I've been here, either."
He let her loose long enough to fish a key from his pocket and open a nondescript door. "First rule of journalism Bill Adama style: never judge on looks."
Laura rocked back on her heels and gave him a long look, head to toe and back again. "I guess you learned that rule the hard way."
"Watch your step going up the stairs. Wouldn't want you to trip and sprain your attitude, Ms. Roslin."
Laura started to climb the tight circular staircase. "You've got to be kidding. How many flights is this thing?"
Bill followed behind her, close but not too close. "Not enough. Not nearly enough."
He'd have thought that climbing five flights of stairs would get her breathless, but he'd underestimated Laura Roslin. She might be breathing hard, but her mouth never quit.
"You knew who your source was. You knew who she is. You took me to meet the head of the Ha'la'tha and you didn't tell me. You were just setting me up for trouble, weren't you?"
Bill climbed these stairs everyday, but tonight his breath was coming a little faster, too. "It was Cain's condition. She doesn't go around broadcasting who she is."
"You work for her, Bill? Or for me?"
"Don’t ever think my loyalty can be bought, Mrs. Adar."
"Just rented by the hou--" Laura stepped off the top stair and straight into Adama's living room. "This is…it's…"
"That's what they all say."
Bill let her wander around the room. Visitors to his home always took the same route: first the glass wall with the view of the Caprica City skyline, then back along the bookcase-laden walls to the fireplace and his Monclair, then back to the windows. Few noticed his bachelor's bed, tucked into a corner, or his overburdened desk.
As expected, Laura came to a halt in front of his picture. "I guess I am paying you enough."
"It was my father's. Got it from Daniel Greystone."
"My, my, someone has connections."
"You haven't done too badly yourself, Mrs. Adar."
She threw a quick glance at him over her shoulder and he thought he could see something dark and dangerous in her eyes, but she chose to retreat instead of attack. In her progress from fireplace to windows she trailed a finger along his bookshelves. "Custom made, I assume." Her voice held something -- Surprise? Contempt? Amusement? -- that he was afraid to define.
"Yes."
"I'm definitely paying you enough."
"I built them myself. Built everything in here."
She stopped, turned around to face him. "I'm surprised. There seems to be a great deal I should get to know about you, Mr. Adama. Like your skill with your hands. Like your connections to the Ha'la'tha."
"Which would you like to find out about first, Laura?"
She walked toward him, squeezing between his body and the coffee table to sit on the couch. "Tell me about the Ha'la'tha. Tell me why I should trust you."
"I came to work for the Times when I was 16," Bill started.
"You were working for the Guatrau. Don't look so surprised, Adama. Richard told me. He told me quite a lot about you."
"Then you know everything you need to know. Either you trust me or you don't."
"I know the past. I need you to tell me about the present. About why you took me to Cain without warning me. I know I can trust you with my paper, but now you're asking me to trust you with my life."
"You're being melodramatic."
"You're the one who said there were foot soldiers watching us. You're the one who called me suicidal for challenging Cain. You --" Realization dawned. "You wanted to see me scared, didn't you?"
"No!" Her eyes narrowed and he fidgeted. Damn, she would have made a fine schoolteacher. "Yes. A little. But I thought you knew. It's an open secret."
"Maybe in Little Tauron. But as you like to remind me, I live in the rarefied air of City Heights."
"Then I apologize. But it's not as bad as all that. If Cain wanted you dead, you'd already be dead. There would be a small army at my door."
As though he'd timed it, they heard footsteps on the stairs.
"Your wife?" Laura asked.
"Divorced." His voice was a whisper in her ear as he pulled her to standing.
"Kids?"
"My son's on a ship somewhere around Picon."
"Your lover?"
"Go hide in my bed, Laura. Maybe they won't see you."
"I'm not going anywhere. If it's Cain, I'd rather face her on my feet. Got a gun?"
"I've got my fists."
Two men in black suits and shiny shoes interrupted their conference. "Mr. Adama? Ms. Roslin?" They flashed badges. "The vice president would like to see you. Now."
Bill's hand against her lower back led Laura toward the security agents. "Looks like this is your lucky night, Roslin. You get to meet both my sources."