Title: Painted Lady (13/14)
Author:
tjonesy and
icedteainthebagWord Count: 2,965
Rating: MA
Pairing: Roslin/Adama
Spoilers: S2, Final Cut through LDYB II
Summary: We survived the end of worlds and we still can't tell people how we really feel.
Notes: Thanks to our amazing betas
somadanne and
larsfarm77, both for their invaluable skills and their patience. Thanks to
melligator for the pretty icon set and again to
katamaran78 for the gorgeous frakkin’ banner.
Special thanks to
somadanne on this one for the last-minute beta. ♥
The last chapter will be posted Sunday at about 10 p.m. EST.
Or whenever we feel like it, 'cause that's how we roll.
Link to :
Chapter 1 |
Chapter 2 |
Chapter 3 |
Chapter 4 |
Chapter 5 |
Chapter 6 |
Chapter 7 Chapter 8 |
Chapter 9 |
Chapter 10 |
Chapter 11 |
Chapter 12 |
Chapter 13 |
Chapter 14 |
Epilogue ____________________________________________________________
LAY DOWN YOUR BURDENS, PART 1:
It's late in the afternoon and I'm just finishing up with one of my regulars. Caesar grunts like a mule as he climaxes and falls heavy against my chest. He's a decent enough guy but a lousy lay.
"You're incredible, Brooke," he mumbles contentedly against my neck.
"Thanks, honey." I stroke his hair as I try to ease out from under him. He's built, no, sculpted, more than most of the guys I see. It's obvious he takes care of himself, which almost makes up for the fact that he's a little slow in the cognitive department. But Caesar's always treated me right, and it's a rarity given my line of work to find someone who actually respects the girl he's paying to frak. First came the overpayment, then some extra gifts. But it's the treating me like an actual human being that's turned me on to him more than most.
"What do you need, baby?" he asks as he flops gracelessly onto his back. What a loaded question.
I use the opportunity to crawl out of the rack and throw on my Galactica t-shirt. "What have you got?"
He stretches out his long limbs and sprawls across the rack in all his hedonistic glory. "I won a pack of cigarettes in a card game the other night."
I slip into my panties and run my fingers through my hair, working out the knots. Caesar's a hair grabber. "That works. I could trade them for a bar of soap and maybe a hairb-"
There's a familiar knock on the hatch. Caesar looks over, alarmed, then quickly slides off the bunk to don his boxer shorts. I glance over at the clock and realize I've gone five minutes long with this session. I never do that.
I crack open the hatch to confront an amused Nicco. "Having a good time in there?"
"You're such an asshole. You got a customer?"
"No, but you do." Nicco indicates the lone figure standing in the shadows of the corridor.
"Oh frak me." It's Bill. He's never caught me during a session before. I don't think he's gonna be pleased.
There's an awkward little do-si-do as Bill and Nicco change places.
"What are you doing here?" I hiss. I'm going on the defensive because I've essentially been caught with my pants down. Nicco's not helping; he's just blatantly ogling Bill.
"Hey Admiral," Nicco rumbles in perfect Adama-speak. "When you're tired of her kicking your ass you should let me have a go."
I hold my breath and try not to cringe. The slight smile that forms at the corner of Bill's mouth sets me at ease.
"When she's done kicking it, I'm not sure there's going to be much left for you to play with."
"At least you're not saying 'no.'"
Bill starts laughing. "Maybe next time, Nicco."
Nicco places his hand over his heart and starts backing down the corridor. He mouths "call me" to Bill as he disappears around the corner.
"Don't worry, he doesn't have a phone," I say.
Bill looks down at the green rag, then back up to my face, confusion marring his normally placid features. He obviously wasn't expecting to find me here with someone else.
"You got somebody in there with you?" he whispers, trying to look past me and into the cabin.
"What do you think the green rag means?" I answer his idiotic question and block his view at the same time, and then want to kick myself at the hurt look on his face.
"Someone giving you trouble, baby?" I'm startled by Caesar's deep voice behind me.
The solid wall of his chest is suddenly at my back, and I hold my breath as he and Adama come face to face.
"Admiral Adama?"
"Captain Batista?"
Oh, for frak's sake.
I'm trying to figure out which of them is more shocked. It might be Bill since he's turning an interesting shade of purple. I'm afraid to turn around and see what Caesar's face is doing.
"I was just leaving," Caesar stammers, all the manly bluster gone in an instant. Big frakking hero.
Adama says nothing, just steps aside so Caesar can pass.
"Damn," Caesar says, glancing back over his shoulder. "I forgot my flask on the headboard. Could you get it for me, baby?"
My stomach plummets. His flask. Adama's flask. Damn it.
I brush past Caesar and beeline it to the rack, swiping the silver flask from the headboard. I can feel Adama's eyes burning into me, but I refuse to look at him. I'm a frakking heel. I'd given it to Caesar, just as I'd bitterly promised Adama when he gave it to me for payment. He was the next guy in line.
I hand it off to Caesar wordlessly, my face hot. "Thanks, baby," Caesar says as he kisses me gently on the cheek.
I realize I have to say something in response. I open my mouth and the words roll out mindlessly. "I'll see you soon, okay?"
The strapping young Captain leaves and I'm still ignoring Bill's glare. He did this to himself. He was an ass. I try to convince myself of all the reasons he deserved to see that exchange while I turn back into my cabin, retrieving the pack of cigarettes Caesar left. I hear Bill step into the room behind me. He's remarkably silent, which I know won't last. I ignore him and begin efficiently stripping the bed.
"He frak you?"
That's why he got your flask, Bill.
"Yes. It's what all my clients do except for one." I emphasize the last word and he visibly bristles. He's next to me in an instant, holding the green rag in front of my face like he's pushing a dog's nose into its own mess.
"Caesar Batista's in command of the Greenleaf. He has meetings with her twice a month," he snarls, flecks of spittle collecting at the corners of his mouth. "He frakking knows her. She's not some abstract concept to him, the sick frak!"
I snatch the rag from his fingers and get nose-to-nose with him. "Caesar didn't even know I was a Roslin lookalike when he picked me up the first time, you sanctimonious asshole, unlike you," I yell right back. "I don't do the Roslin thing for him. That's not what it's about with us."
"Us?" His face scrunches up in disgust.
"What, you think you're my only trick, Bill Adama?"
"I'm not a trick." He spits the last word out like it's something distasteful in his mouth.
"Of course you are."
"I don't frak you," he growls back.
"You're still one of my johns. Doesn't matter if you never take it out of your pants, the relationship still exists."
Bill looks positively apoplectic. I've never seen him this angry, and I'm startled when he pushes me roughly onto the mattress and begins unbuckling his belt.
"What are you doing?" I ask nervously, trying to squelch my rising panic.
"If you're gonna call me a trick, I'm gonna act like one." He yanks the band of leather out of the waistband of his jeans and tosses it carelessly onto the bed next to me.
"The frak you are." I struggle to rise, but he's holding me down with one hand while he awkwardly tries to unbutton his pants with the other.
"I pay for it, the same as him," he snaps at me.
"You pay to talk."
"Well, today I'm gonna frak." He finally has to let go of me to lower his zipper, and I use the opportunity to scramble off the rack.
"You don't get to make that decision." My voice is icy as I put some distance between us to stand by the hatch, watching him and trying to calm my erratic breathing.
"I pay you to do what I want," he replies petulantly, the anger mostly gone now, in its place a sort of sad desperation.
"No, you pay me to talk," I say, more firmly this time. "If you want to do something more than that we need to negotiate a different rate."
"How much is it gonna cost me?" He's still playing it tough, but I can see the fight is completely out of him. His shoulders are hunched as he finally turns to me, his eyes cast downward. I can't believe he expects me to quote him a price. This strange relationship has always cost us more than what he's paid.
"Forget it." I wave him off and straighten my clothing, knowing I finally have the upper hand. "I'm not frakking you." As I say it, everything suddenly clicks into place and I realize it's absolutely true.
"Why not?" he asks in a hurt whisper that almost breaks my heart.
I deflect that attention off myself and gesture toward his unbuttoned jeans. "Would you shut up for a minute and look at yourself?" His eyes are unfocused as he takes in his disheveled state, but he doesn't do anything to correct it.
"You would have done it before. Why not now?" he repeats, a bit calmer this time, but the hurt is still there.
"Because it's not what we do, Bill."
"But maybe I want to," he says quietly.
"No you don't. You just want to stake your claim now that you know another guy's been there before you."
He looks at me askance. "That's not true."
I place my hands on my hips and stare him down. "I walked around with a hickey on my left breast for six days the one time we actually did anything, Bill. That's what you do."
"I do?"
"Yes!" I practically shriek in exasperation.
"Frak." He sits in a heap on the bed and I plop down next to him.
"You done acting like a dickhead?"
"Yeah," he grunts.
"Good, I hate when you get like that." His hand is resting limply against the mattress and I take it in mine. "What did you come here for anyway?"
"I just wanted to see how you were doing. I saw the rag on the hatch and I … I don't know what I expected, but I didn't think I'd find you here with …" He trails off.
"Well you did, so get over it."
"But, I know Caesar," he grumbles.
"So I gathered."
He looks at me speculatively. "You frakking anyone else I know?"
"You frakking anyone at all?" I throw back.
He looks away, embarrassed.
"Oh my gods, Bill! It's been weeks. What are you waiting for?"
"The timing hasn't been right," he says lamely. "She's been preoccupied with the election."
"You're pathetic."
"I am," he agrees.
I nudge his shoulder playfully. "Just throw her on the mattress like you did to me a few seconds ago. Show her who's boss."
He chuckles bitterly. "Yeah, that would go over about as well as it did here."
"But she cares for you, doesn't she?"
He nods minutely. "I think so, yeah."
"Wait a second." I place my hand on his arm and force him to look at me. "She hasn't told you yet?"
"No," he rasps painfully, and I can see it's killing him.
Seems Madame President and I have something else in common.
"Wow." It's all I can think of to say, and that doesn't quite cover it. I'm beginning to doubt our President's ability to make a good judgment call when she doesn't even realize that he's been pining over her for as long as I've known him. Either that or she's intentionally trying to ignore it. I get a little bit of that. In a lot of ways Adama's a train wreck. It actually irritates the shit out of me that I find it as endearing as I do.
"I feel like we've made no progress, Bill," I say.
"What are you, my therapist?"
"That's basically what you've been paying me for, you know."
He actually squirms in his seat at the notion.
"Look, if you're not comfortable with that analogy, just think of me as your bartender without the booze."
He's absently circling my palm with his thumb and I look over at him.
"The dynamic between Laura and me is the last thing I need to frak up right now. Unfortunately, we've got a lot of responsibilities …"
"I know." I squeeze his hand. "Those are never gonna go away, you know that, right? Work around them."
As sympathetic and supportive as I've been through this whole thing, there comes a point where he's gotta get a handle on his own shit. I'm at that point, I think. I've learned the hard way that you need to enjoy what you have while you have it.
A silence settles between us and I'm grateful for it. I'm sick of him and Roslin and their inability to move forward. Nothing short of a catastrophe is going to force their hand at this point. I've got enough drama in my life without being a further catalyst for their stalled romance. I'm ready to change the subject.
"What do you think about the election?" I ask.
"Do you really want to know?"
No, not really. I simply shrug.
"Wait, you're voting for her, right?" he asks suspiciously.
"Well why should I vote for her instead of Doctor Baltar?"
He obviously thinks I'm joking because he chuckles. "That weasely little frakker? The only thing on his agenda is getting up a few more skirts." He looks over at me. "You ever see him down here?"
I raise my eyebrows at him. "Couldn't tell you if I did."
"Maybe it's an issue of Colonial security."
"That Baltar likes whores?" I laugh. "You'd better think hard about using that line of reasoning before it comes back to bite you in the ass."
We smile at each other acknowledging this strange relationship we have. I suddenly pull my hand away from his and stare at the floor grating. Everything feels too intimate for some reason, and I'm not sure why. "I'm so sick of being trapped in this tin can," I finally manage.
"Nobody likes it," he says carefully, like he's sensed the shift between us.
I finally hazard a glance in his direction. "When was the last time you watched a sunrise, Bill?"
He doesn't answer. I close my eyes and imagine what he'd look like in the daylight and how it would warm his skin, bring out the intense color of his eyes. He'd be like a whole new person. We both would.
I toe at the floor and take a deep breath to calm my nerves. "I've almost forgotten what it's like."
"It's never a good idea to jump into anything without considering all the consequences first."
I look over at him and my stomach twists when I realize he's talking about colonizing the planet. Gods, I'm so frakking stupid. We were talking about Baltar and he made the next logical step in conversation.
"Frak the consequences," I say. "Sometimes you just have to take a chance. And by you, I mean you. You need to loosen up."
"Yeah?"
I can't believe he even thinks this is a question at this point. "Yeah. You know what you need? You need to go down to that planet, kick off your shoes and wiggle your toes in the sand."
He smiles and laughs. There's an inkling of mischief in his expression. "Maybe I will."
"Good, and while you're at it, take her down there with you."
There's a familiar tapping on the hatch that tells me Jemma's waiting. I groan inwardly at the realization that she's booked the room next. "We gotta get out of here," I tell him apologetically. "Been busy lately. People've got a lot of angst about this election they're raring to get out."
"Not a bad way to do it." He looks sheepish as he stands up and notices his jeans are still undone. "I know. I should try it sometime," he says as he zips up and buttons his pants.
I put my hand on his arm. "See? You don't even need me anymore."
He leans in and kisses my cheek. I sneak one in on his jaw before he pulls away.
"Take it easy, sweetheart," he says quietly.
The endearment comes out of nowhere and I blink at him in surprise. He merely smiles and runs his hand along my arm. There's something weirdly calculated about the gesture, like he can sense me moving away from him, and he's trying to bring me back into his orbit. It's tempting and it takes all my resolve to resist the powerful pull. We're going to continue circling around each other like this for an eternity if I don't let go of him.
"You take it easy too," I murmur, walking him toward the hatch. He opens it and Jemma's waiting there with a blonde, who blushes furiously when she recognizes the man I'm standing there with. Bill smiles at her warmly as we switch places. It doesn't matter how many times you do it, it's always an awkward shift.
I tug on his arm as he begins to leave. It feels like there's something final about this meeting, and I want to keep him here with me just a little bit longer. "I hope she wins." I don't know why I'm lying to him now. I know who everyone in this miserable corridor is voting for, including me, and it's not Roslin.
"She'll win," he answers confidently as he heads down the corridor with an easy stride that Nicco's almost got down pat.
I know in that moment what I need even if he doesn't. I deserve a fresh start.
I pray New Caprica will be that for me.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Tomorrow, in the gripping conclusion of Painted Lady...
Nicco gets a phone.
"Where you at!"
-
Continued in
Chapter 14...