Fic: Sigh No More
Title: Sigh No More
Author: Davnee
Rating: K+
Summary: My expanded take on the "rack scene" from the end of Taking A Break From All Your Worries (Season 3). I'd call this a ficlet, except it is just over 1,000 words. Apologies to Shakespeare for the title and very special thanks to the as always magnificent unavitasegreta for her help.
“Laura?”
Bill had expected to find her where he’d left her, working on the couch, and although her files were stacked neatly on the coffee table, she was nowhere to be seen. Her guards were still posted outside, though, so she had to be here somewhere.
As he moved deeper into his quarters looking for her, he hated to admit to himself that he’d be disappointed if she’d already gone. He’d rediscovered the pleasure in recent months of having a woman to come home to now that she was spending so much more time working aboard Galactica, and often using his quarters as her de facto office when she did. Besides, it would be some time before he’d be over the emptiness of that long year of settlement. He’d take what he could get of her company in the meantime and not be ashamed to want it.
“Bill, I …” she answered groggily to her name as he called it again.
“Don’t get up,” he ordered, coming around the corner of his quarters and crossing over to where she lay in his rack. He was as irritated with himself for disturbing her, as he was relieved to find her still here. It had been a hard day, one of the hardest since she had come home to him.
“Rest. You’ve earned it,” he continued as he sat down on the edge of the rack beside her legs. “I know this has been difficult for you. The things that you have done to get the truth from him …”
“Bill, you should know by now that I’m not nearly so delicate as I look,” she upbraided him with the faintest quirk of a smile.
He nodded at her words, conceding his military condescension with a guilty half smile of his own. Steel would bend more readily than this woman. He knew that. He also knew the price she was willing to pay for some measure of justice for Baltar, but he still did not know the precise nature of the cost he had exacted on her. In truth, it haunted him, but he’d never had the courage to ask. Not directly. Not until now.
“But even the strongest among us can only be expected to bear so much, Laura ... New Caprica. I’ve never asked you.”
“They knew better than to leave any marks on me during my interrogations,” she replied, not waiting for him to finish his question, but nevertheless answering it fully just by the weary bitterness that flashed in her voice. Torture did not always require a closed fist. The last few days were certainly proof of that.
“The last thing the cylons needed was a visibly martyred ex-president,” she continued. “Even he could not have burrowed deep enough into his own denial to miss that if they’d tried.”
Rage bubbled inside of him for what they had done to her. What he had been too far away to stop. He turned away. He’d wanted the truth at last, and now that he had it, he must learn to live with it.
“I’m sorry.” It was inadequate, but it was all he could offer her. More would come at a cost too dear.
“You have nothing to be sorry for, Bill. You came back,” she finished with a tired but fiercely earnest smile that did not fade until he turned back to her and acknowledged it.
If only that had been the extent of his crimes, he might have felt relief at her absolution, but he was guilty of so much more, that which she knew and that which he could never let her know. “But …”
“We can’t undo the past, Bill. Our mistakes were made in good faith,” she reassured him with her interruption, rejecting the chance to offer recriminations for his ill-fated rescue of her democratic conscience all those many months ago. “Gaius Baltar can’t say the same.”
There was a feral quality to her hatred for the man that made his heart heavy, because he knew it could never be satisfied. She was the wisest and most generous woman he’d ever met, but in this she was broken. If he could find a way to mend her, bind the pieces of her heart that had broken off with bits of his own, he would. But that would only tear away the precious few remaining threads that held the fabric of this fleet together. That they could not afford. So he looked away again.
“No he can’t,” Bill agreed as he stared ahead, confident in at least that much. “But he’ll undoubtedly try. No doubt harder now that he believes we’ve been cruel.”
Laura sighed heavily and he glanced back at her, knowing she was not made for this. “I told him I didn't take any satisfaction in seeing his pain,” she began. “But the truth is, I was willing to see him endure a great deal of suffering, in order to get what I wanted. It wasn't some intelligence or some truth. I wanted a genuine admission of guilt,” she finished, obviously frustrated as much by herself as by Baltar. It was clear that hating did not come naturally to her.
“That's something that you're not gonna get from someone like Baltar,” he explained. “He doesn't see himself that way. It's not who he is. In his eyes he's the victim, not the criminal.”
She looked up at the ceiling, away from him, not wanting to acknowledge that Baltar was incapable of giving her the justice she craved. As he saw her pain, Bill wondered how he could have ever permitted that man to come to power over her. It was a question he’d asked himself every day since the cylons appeared in orbit over that ridiculous rock he’d let his people put down roots on.
“It's not too late for him to just disappear,” he told her, looking away as he made his offer. He’d put Baltar out the airlock for her, even if it would be wrong. Just to be done with it. Just to let her move on.
Laura smiled softly, clearly affected by his gesture as she reached out to touch his arm gently with her hand and draw his eyes to hers. “We can't do that,” she whispered. “For all his crimes, he's one of us.”
He was conflicted over her response - both proud of her for resisting such base temptation and sad for her, for all of them that the past could not be so easily dispatched. “So what happens next?”
“We give him his trial.” Her voice sounded her own conflict.
It was the right thing to do, but it could only end badly. They both seemed to know it, as they again looked away from each other. Perhaps they hadn’t learned the proper lesson of the election after all. And perhaps that was the only thing that made them worthy to lead on.
“You rest,” he suggested, looking back at her after a long moment, wishing desperately that he could offer her more tender comfort. “I’ll call for some supper.” As he stood and walked away, he realized that arm’s length was the cruelest distance he’d ever known.
Finis
* * *
Sigh no more, ladies, sigh no more.
Men were deceivers ever,
One foot in sea, and one on shore,
To one thing constant never.
Then sigh not so, but let them go,
And be you blithe and bonny,
Converting all your sounds of woe
Into hey nonny, nonny.
Sigh no more ditties, sing no more
Of dumps so dull and heavy.
The fraud of men was ever so
Since summer first was leafy.
Then sigh not so, but let them go,
And be you blithe and bonny,
Converting all your sounds of woe
Into hey, nonny, nonny.
- William Shakespeare (Much Ado About Nothing)
Author: Davnee
Rating: K+
Summary: My expanded take on the "rack scene" from the end of Taking A Break From All Your Worries (Season 3). I'd call this a ficlet, except it is just over 1,000 words. Apologies to Shakespeare for the title and very special thanks to the as always magnificent unavitasegreta for her help.
“Laura?”
Bill had expected to find her where he’d left her, working on the couch, and although her files were stacked neatly on the coffee table, she was nowhere to be seen. Her guards were still posted outside, though, so she had to be here somewhere.
As he moved deeper into his quarters looking for her, he hated to admit to himself that he’d be disappointed if she’d already gone. He’d rediscovered the pleasure in recent months of having a woman to come home to now that she was spending so much more time working aboard Galactica, and often using his quarters as her de facto office when she did. Besides, it would be some time before he’d be over the emptiness of that long year of settlement. He’d take what he could get of her company in the meantime and not be ashamed to want it.
“Bill, I …” she answered groggily to her name as he called it again.
“Don’t get up,” he ordered, coming around the corner of his quarters and crossing over to where she lay in his rack. He was as irritated with himself for disturbing her, as he was relieved to find her still here. It had been a hard day, one of the hardest since she had come home to him.
“Rest. You’ve earned it,” he continued as he sat down on the edge of the rack beside her legs. “I know this has been difficult for you. The things that you have done to get the truth from him …”
“Bill, you should know by now that I’m not nearly so delicate as I look,” she upbraided him with the faintest quirk of a smile.
He nodded at her words, conceding his military condescension with a guilty half smile of his own. Steel would bend more readily than this woman. He knew that. He also knew the price she was willing to pay for some measure of justice for Baltar, but he still did not know the precise nature of the cost he had exacted on her. In truth, it haunted him, but he’d never had the courage to ask. Not directly. Not until now.
“But even the strongest among us can only be expected to bear so much, Laura ... New Caprica. I’ve never asked you.”
“They knew better than to leave any marks on me during my interrogations,” she replied, not waiting for him to finish his question, but nevertheless answering it fully just by the weary bitterness that flashed in her voice. Torture did not always require a closed fist. The last few days were certainly proof of that.
“The last thing the cylons needed was a visibly martyred ex-president,” she continued. “Even he could not have burrowed deep enough into his own denial to miss that if they’d tried.”
Rage bubbled inside of him for what they had done to her. What he had been too far away to stop. He turned away. He’d wanted the truth at last, and now that he had it, he must learn to live with it.
“I’m sorry.” It was inadequate, but it was all he could offer her. More would come at a cost too dear.
“You have nothing to be sorry for, Bill. You came back,” she finished with a tired but fiercely earnest smile that did not fade until he turned back to her and acknowledged it.
If only that had been the extent of his crimes, he might have felt relief at her absolution, but he was guilty of so much more, that which she knew and that which he could never let her know. “But …”
“We can’t undo the past, Bill. Our mistakes were made in good faith,” she reassured him with her interruption, rejecting the chance to offer recriminations for his ill-fated rescue of her democratic conscience all those many months ago. “Gaius Baltar can’t say the same.”
There was a feral quality to her hatred for the man that made his heart heavy, because he knew it could never be satisfied. She was the wisest and most generous woman he’d ever met, but in this she was broken. If he could find a way to mend her, bind the pieces of her heart that had broken off with bits of his own, he would. But that would only tear away the precious few remaining threads that held the fabric of this fleet together. That they could not afford. So he looked away again.
“No he can’t,” Bill agreed as he stared ahead, confident in at least that much. “But he’ll undoubtedly try. No doubt harder now that he believes we’ve been cruel.”
Laura sighed heavily and he glanced back at her, knowing she was not made for this. “I told him I didn't take any satisfaction in seeing his pain,” she began. “But the truth is, I was willing to see him endure a great deal of suffering, in order to get what I wanted. It wasn't some intelligence or some truth. I wanted a genuine admission of guilt,” she finished, obviously frustrated as much by herself as by Baltar. It was clear that hating did not come naturally to her.
“That's something that you're not gonna get from someone like Baltar,” he explained. “He doesn't see himself that way. It's not who he is. In his eyes he's the victim, not the criminal.”
She looked up at the ceiling, away from him, not wanting to acknowledge that Baltar was incapable of giving her the justice she craved. As he saw her pain, Bill wondered how he could have ever permitted that man to come to power over her. It was a question he’d asked himself every day since the cylons appeared in orbit over that ridiculous rock he’d let his people put down roots on.
“It's not too late for him to just disappear,” he told her, looking away as he made his offer. He’d put Baltar out the airlock for her, even if it would be wrong. Just to be done with it. Just to let her move on.
Laura smiled softly, clearly affected by his gesture as she reached out to touch his arm gently with her hand and draw his eyes to hers. “We can't do that,” she whispered. “For all his crimes, he's one of us.”
He was conflicted over her response - both proud of her for resisting such base temptation and sad for her, for all of them that the past could not be so easily dispatched. “So what happens next?”
“We give him his trial.” Her voice sounded her own conflict.
It was the right thing to do, but it could only end badly. They both seemed to know it, as they again looked away from each other. Perhaps they hadn’t learned the proper lesson of the election after all. And perhaps that was the only thing that made them worthy to lead on.
“You rest,” he suggested, looking back at her after a long moment, wishing desperately that he could offer her more tender comfort. “I’ll call for some supper.” As he stood and walked away, he realized that arm’s length was the cruelest distance he’d ever known.
Finis
* * *
Sigh no more, ladies, sigh no more.
Men were deceivers ever,
One foot in sea, and one on shore,
To one thing constant never.
Then sigh not so, but let them go,
And be you blithe and bonny,
Converting all your sounds of woe
Into hey nonny, nonny.
Sigh no more ditties, sing no more
Of dumps so dull and heavy.
The fraud of men was ever so
Since summer first was leafy.
Then sigh not so, but let them go,
And be you blithe and bonny,
Converting all your sounds of woe
Into hey, nonny, nonny.
- William Shakespeare (Much Ado About Nothing)