fic: Games Adults Play (3/6)
Title: Games Adults Play (3/6)
Author: icedteainthebag
Pairings: Bill Adama/Ellen Tigh/Laura Roslin, think square dancing + Saul
Rating: MA
Summary: Ellen's return to the Fleet brings complications to Bill and Laura's lives.
Word Count: 3,366
Notes: Written for the bsg_epics ship swap exchange in order to fulfill wishflsinfl's request of Bill/Laura/Ellen, not PWP, in canon. So basically, write the impossible. Know that going in.
Links to: Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6
-
It's time to heal the wounds, Commander.
Bill was soon prescribing to the philosophy that you don't know what you've got until it's nearly gone.
He couldn't pinpoint the exact moment it happened. He didn't wake up from the coma feeling desperate to see Roslin. Any affection for her wasn't a revelation made in a near-death fog and there was no ghostly apparition in the white light telling him to seek her out.
Frankly, when he woke up, all he felt was dull, deep pain in his chest and an even deeper sense of panic about what might have gone wrong after Boomer took him out. It was a nightmare, especially because Cottle wouldn't tell him shit about anything until he could sit up on his own.
And so he'd struggled, and he'd thought.
The last time he saw Roslin, he had her put in the brig. The hate he'd felt for her then had seared through him, filling him with rage. Her disrespect for his authority, her inability to understand that there was an order to things... that anger that had provoked him before he'd gotten shot didn't immediately subside the moment he woke up.
He was still angry, especially when upon his recovery he learned that she had disappeared-with Lee, no less-and that the religious bullshit she was forcing upon the Fleet was at an intolerable level.
No wonder Cottle had made him wait.
This split between him and Roslin never wider, it was Dee's rationale that he initially angrily rejected that made him finally settle. He'd rejected it because she was right and he wasn't ready to believe it. Up until this point he'd found it much easier to spar with Roslin than to come to agreement with her.
Dee reminded him of his promise to find Earth. He'd never been good at keeping promises, but he could change that this time. Prove himself this one time.
If only he knew where Earth was.
On Kobol, he saw Roslin for the first time since he put her in the brig. She seemed nearly feral there-her hair damp and unkempt, her body drowning in an oversized coat as her face expressed how overcome she was at seeing Billy, more reserved at seeing him. That being said, she nearly looked past them. It was obvious she was in pursuit of something greater.
Almost dying did that for him. Talking to Dee did that for him. He felt a purpose, that he needed to drive toward the goal of making sure life continued. And he realized that maybe she was making the same progression-the closer she got toward death, the more desperate she was to accomplish something, to seek out a purpose, to validate her existence.
He knew what that was like.
He couldn't deny what he had seen in what they described as the Tomb of Athena. He had seen the field and felt the breeze and smelled the grass. The Lagoon Nebula overhead, he realized that without Roslin leading them, pushing them, defying him, they never would have found this place or known its truth.
He'd looked at her awestruck under the stars and he began to believe in her.
Cottle had prohibited him from commandeering his own Raptor for the trip down to Kobol, so he'd been shamefully relegated to the back seat for the ride there and back up.
He was sitting in the jump seat waiting for departure and Laura climbed up the wing and ducked inside. She sat beside him and fastened her restraints, her thigh brushing and settling against his own.
"We do this together from now on," she said, not looking at him. "Are you on board with me, Bill?"
"Looks like I am," he replied as the hatch closed. She laughed softly and nudged him with her shoulder.
"I'm serious. Are we going to do this?"
He looked over at her, her smile making him smile in return.
"Together," he said. "To Earth. To the end."
Her smile softened and her lips pressed together. Then she nodded and turned to the canopy as the bird lifted off, her slender hands folded in her lap.
-
The road hadn't been easy since their return from Kobol. Laura found that opening up one box often revealed another, and another, puzzles and complications neverending. And now with the return of Pegasus to the Fleet, she had never felt a more pressing need for more time. Time to fix things, time to make things right.
She was running out of time, always running out of time. She wanted to slow down the clock and find Earth before she passed on, but with every day it was looking less likely that she would lead them to this promised land.
Together. To Earth. To the end.
It was a heavy burden to bear, but she did it silently because it was her duty.
She hated that her body was deteriorating at the time the Fleet needed her the most. The disease was unrelenting. It didn't care what she wanted; it just took and took, ruthlessly, one healthy cell at a time. It was much like the Cylons, like she was fighting a fight inside and outside of her body.
She was exhausted in every way.
And then there was Bill, who was looking to her more for leadership and at times, seemed like he was looking to her for more than that. He'd changed since he was shot. Survival had done something to him, had changed the way he treated people and even the way he treated himself. Kobol had been common ground for them and it was the first time she'd felt they were truly together.
It had changed both of them.
He looked at her differently. He smiled at her more. She felt herself wanting his company and wanting other things, and she was equally grateful and saddened by his willingness to be at her side, even as she was ailing.
To be given another chance at life had to be something.
She, on the other hand, had to give up the idea that there would be a miracle, that Doc Cottle could remove what was killing her. It was too late for that. She wanted to enjoy these moments between her and Bill but every one of them was tainted with a reminder of what they wouldn't be able to have.
If only she had met him sooner; if only they weren't fighting for their lives every day. If only they could find Earth a little bit sooner, if only she had gotten her mammograms back on Caprica.
If only, if only.
There were times she felt too weak to get up but she did it anyway.
There were times breathing took so much effort and hurt so badly that she wanted to stop.
But Bill hadn't given up, and neither would she.
Laura had done a good job of ignoring the XO's wife since the dinner party the night of her arrival. Certainly she was around, plotting and scheming as it seemed her way to do things. Laura didn't trust her at all, not since she set foot on Galactica.
Her lack of trust was only strengthened after Bill was shot, and it became obvious even in her chamalla-withdrawn state that Ellen Tigh's M.O. was power-as much as she could get, as fast as she could get it.
She had dealt with these kinds of people all her life.
It had gotten to the point that they needed to have a conversation. Ever since her stint in the brig she knew Ellen's true capabilities as a manipulator, and the last thing she needed was a human in the Fleet conspiring against them. She'd had enough of that.
She called a meeting between them that she knew would be terse. Ellen offered to host it at the XO's quarters but Laura insisted on having it aboard Colonial One. Not only could she control the flow of alcohol there-of which there would be none-but she felt empowered on her own ship.
"Let's cut to the chase, Ellen," Laura said from behind her desk as the woman entered her office, more of a saunter, her eyes darting about. She didn't greet her formally. Currently, she didn't feel like she deserved the courtesy. "I know what you did to me in the brig."
"Well, hello to you too, Madame President," Ellen said, sitting down and crossing her legs primly in the chair in front of Laura's desk. "By the way, you were out of your mind. Completely frakked up." Ellen smiled then. "It was amazing to see."
Her chamalla addiction and withdrawal were nothing she was proud of. She hadn't expected it to affect her quite as drastically as it did. It was a low moment, and one of those moments when a predator smells an injured animal and circles it, waiting. "And you tried to take advantage of it."
Ellen tilted her head, staring her down. "I'm of the opinion that our leaders shouldn't be disabled during times of conflict. So I tried to make sure we had somebody in charge who knew what day it was."
"Who you're also married to."
"Just happen to be."
"Who ended up with blood on his hands because he couldn't handle it."
"What is your point, Laura." Ellen's tone was regulated, but bitter.
Off kilter from Ellen's stripping her of her title, which nearly sent her over the edge, Laura took a deep, calming breath. The woman was ignorant and intentionally missing her point. "If there is one thing I'm sure of, it's that Bill Adama is meant to lead this Fleet. Not your husband, or you by proxy, thank the Gods."
"So that's why you called me here? To make sure we all play our roles?" Ellen uncrossed her legs and leaned forward. "How's your part going, Dying Leader? Are we going to find Earth?"
This bitch played hardball. Laura knew the game.
Laura leaned in over her desk, leveling the playing field. "Why don't you leave the important decisions to me while you go play housewife."
"There are some benefits to playing housewife. Things I particularly enjoy."
Laura smirked with a laugh. "I'm sure you do."
"Maybe you should try it sometime." Ellen stood up and put her hands on her hips. Laura found her staging amusing, but also felt a surge of jealousy at her implications. "Maybe you just need to get frakked."
Laura shook her head, staring at her in disbelief. "Did you just tell me to go get frakked?"
"Why not? You know, Bill Adama's not half bad."
It was a quick punch to the gut and Laura attempted to look unfazed. "How the frak would you know?"
Ellen shrugged, a sly smile emerging. "I just know. Years of experience."
Laura studied her, unsure of whether to believe her or not. The idea of Bill touching this woman honestly blew her mind, especially since she was married to his XO. It made no sense. Certainly he wouldn't lack that judgment. "Maybe you should get back to Galactica. I'd hate to keep you from your particular enjoyments."
"You don't know people like you think you do, Laura."
Laura leaned back in her chair. "Oh, likewise. I'm sure."
Ellen was right and it left her unsettled.
-
Sometimes when Bill stroked himself...
Sometimes when Laura touched herself...
... he thought about her. Sometimes he started out thinking about her, sometimes his thoughts wandered over to her legs in her pencil skirts or how her hair would look spread across his pillow.
... she thought about him. She felt guilty about it at first, because the last thing she needed to do was picture him naked, but then again, some days it was the only thing she wanted to do.
He ran his hand up his cock, palming it, groaning at the thought of her unbuttoning her pink dress shirt, one agonizing button at a time. Sometimes she would look at him angrily, like he'd just done something wrong. Sometimes she looked at him like she loved him, like she was revealing herself to him for the first time.
She pressed her fingers against her clit, coaxing it to arousal with her fingertips. She wanted him out of his uniform-she wanted to feel the muscles of his arms flexing under her hands and kiss his objections right off of his lips. Sometimes he was aggressive, pushing her against his desk roughly, forcing her ass up and tearing off her panties. Sometimes he was slow, leading her to his rack, letting her remove his glasses and his clothes.
Sometimes she wore heels, sometimes she kept them on the whole time.
Sometimes she grabbed his tanks in her teeth and cried out against them when he entered her.
He stroked himself, movements jerky, fingers curled tightly, knowing she'd be tight and wet. Sometimes he could practically taste her on his tongue already. He wanted her all over his mouth; he wanted his tongue buried deep and her legs spread wide and he wanted her losing it, crying out, clawing at the sheets.
She frakked herself with her fingers, two then three, knowing he'd be thick and frak her hard. Sometimes he took her from behind, owning her, bruising her hips with his fingers and making her sweat against his sheets. She wanted his chest against her back; she wanted his breath on her ear and she wanted him to make her wait before he let her come.
Suddenly, this time, she wondered if he'd ever frakked Ellen that way.
-
Sometimes when he came he said her name, knowing no one could hear him.
This time, she didn't come, merely groaned in frustration and curled up in her makeshift bed.
-
Ellen had always had a self-professed intuitive sense about people-their wants, their needs, their desires, no matter how hidden. She couldn't explain it, though at times it approached something she'd best describe as clairvoyance.
She sensed Bill had a growing affection toward Laura. Something seemed to have happened when he went down to Kobol to find her, which Ellen found to be terribly romantic and totally uncharacteristic of him. When they came back and he led that slow clap for her, which even for Bill was over the top, Ellen noticed they started to treat each other differently.
So of course, she began her own reconnaissance mission, as she had nothing better to do. A few times in the CIC, Bill and Laura would glance at each other over a paper exchange and their hands would linger. In the hallways when walking, she occasionally observed how he'd walk closer to Laura and once, how he brushed his hand against her lower back.
There was more respect there. Maybe there was more there.
Then Ellen stopped seeing her around. She guessed the President had taken a turn for the worse in regard to her illness. Bill would go visit her and return with a haunted look.
Ellen wondered if they'd ever gotten to frak.
It was tragic.
Bill wasn't the kind to confess anything to anyone, but Ellen also knew that the man had to have a need to discuss what was going on with him and this woman in his life who was about to die.
She could see the disease eating away at him just as it was Laura, turning light into dark and turning hope into hopelessness. It was dangerous, love-she often felt it with Saul. When one of them went into the tailspin it was awfully hard not to follow.
Ellen had different reasons for wanting Bill to confide in her-first, of course, she considered Bill a dear friend, an extremely close one at times, no matter how much they disagreed on certain arrangements. She cared about his well-being and wanted the best for him, no matter what that was. But she had to admit that the whole storyline of this relationship between the Admiral and the soon-to-be-ex President was compelling and intriguing. She wanted to know more. She considered it very human of her to want this. It was like the proverbial train wreck-she just couldn't look away.
She showed up at Bill's quarters one day while Saul was on duty. He'd come to the hatch in an oversized brown robe and given her a wary look. He looked like hell. There were certainly plenty of things to be upset about, not the least of which being Roslin.
"I'm not here to frak," she whispered.
"For frak's sake." He grunted and grabbed her by the arm, pulling her inside the hatch.
He walked away and she closed the door, spinning the wheel. He plopped down on the couch and rolled his head back. She noted his tumbler on the table, a quarter full of alcohol. She resisted the urge to finish it off for him. "What is it, Ellen?"
She toed off her heels and padded toward him, reminded that the carpet in the Admiral's quarters was much thicker than in the XO's. "Just checking on you. You know. Seeing how you are."
He hummed disapprovingly. "Saul send you?"
"No." She sat down next to him and put her head back as well. "I do genuinely care for people, you know. Sometimes."
"I know." He took a deep breath and let it out. "I'm sorry if I've been a dick lately. Things have been... difficult."
"You're only a man, Adama. You can only take so much."
They were silent and Ellen reached over to run her fingers through the back of his hair. It was completely asexual, a more intimate touch than she was used to with him. He relaxed a bit into the stroke of her hand.
"So... what's up with you and Roslin, anyway?"
He looked at her out of the corner of one squinted eye. "Who are you, my confidant?"
"I could be. Lords know you could use one."
He stretched his hands out on his lap, his fingers rubbing against the thick terrycloth. She gently massaged his neck, watching him struggle with his coming words.
"You always say you're meant to be with Saul."
"I do. And I usually mean it. 'Cept when he's a jackass."
He didn't smile. "Maybe I'm meant to be with her."
"Until she dies. Then what?"
She had to say it. Bill had a tendency to treat reality a bit fantastically, denying it until it smacked him right in the face. Sometimes even then. "Everybody dies, Ellen."
"Yes." She chewed on the inside of her cheek. "Some a little sooner than others."
He finally turned his face to look at her. "So you think that love should end at death?"
It was an unexpected question, one which she felt uneasy answering for certain. "Some things are timeless, ageless. If you want me to be honest, Bill... if you're already in love with her, there's nothing you can do. You can't control it. You just go with it."
"I didn't say I was in love with her."
Ellen shook her head and grinned. Pathetic. "Yeah?"
"But I kissed her."
And then shock. "When?"
He looked away, putting his hands behind his head with a drawn-out sigh. She moved her hand, reclining into his couch again. "When she gave me those Admiral pips."
Ellen felt like there was more he wanted to say, but maybe those words weren't meant for her.
"Seeing as she could barely hold herself upright, I think any other gestures toward her would have been uncouth."
She nodded, not looking to him, giving him his space to think. "If that's all you ever have... will you be okay with that?"
"We have more than that. It's always been more than that."
"I know the feeling."
The wireless buzzed and Bill rose, moving quickly to reach it. She heard his low murmuring, then watched him begin to yank on his boots.
"They're transferring Laura over here," he said.
"She's bad?"
"She's bad." He grunted as he tied his last shoelace. "I knew it would happen. Death never waits."
Author: icedteainthebag
Pairings: Bill Adama/Ellen Tigh/Laura Roslin, think square dancing + Saul
Rating: MA
Summary: Ellen's return to the Fleet brings complications to Bill and Laura's lives.
Word Count: 3,366
Notes: Written for the bsg_epics ship swap exchange in order to fulfill wishflsinfl's request of Bill/Laura/Ellen, not PWP, in canon. So basically, write the impossible. Know that going in.
Links to: Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6
-
It's time to heal the wounds, Commander.
Bill was soon prescribing to the philosophy that you don't know what you've got until it's nearly gone.
He couldn't pinpoint the exact moment it happened. He didn't wake up from the coma feeling desperate to see Roslin. Any affection for her wasn't a revelation made in a near-death fog and there was no ghostly apparition in the white light telling him to seek her out.
Frankly, when he woke up, all he felt was dull, deep pain in his chest and an even deeper sense of panic about what might have gone wrong after Boomer took him out. It was a nightmare, especially because Cottle wouldn't tell him shit about anything until he could sit up on his own.
And so he'd struggled, and he'd thought.
The last time he saw Roslin, he had her put in the brig. The hate he'd felt for her then had seared through him, filling him with rage. Her disrespect for his authority, her inability to understand that there was an order to things... that anger that had provoked him before he'd gotten shot didn't immediately subside the moment he woke up.
He was still angry, especially when upon his recovery he learned that she had disappeared-with Lee, no less-and that the religious bullshit she was forcing upon the Fleet was at an intolerable level.
No wonder Cottle had made him wait.
This split between him and Roslin never wider, it was Dee's rationale that he initially angrily rejected that made him finally settle. He'd rejected it because she was right and he wasn't ready to believe it. Up until this point he'd found it much easier to spar with Roslin than to come to agreement with her.
Dee reminded him of his promise to find Earth. He'd never been good at keeping promises, but he could change that this time. Prove himself this one time.
If only he knew where Earth was.
On Kobol, he saw Roslin for the first time since he put her in the brig. She seemed nearly feral there-her hair damp and unkempt, her body drowning in an oversized coat as her face expressed how overcome she was at seeing Billy, more reserved at seeing him. That being said, she nearly looked past them. It was obvious she was in pursuit of something greater.
Almost dying did that for him. Talking to Dee did that for him. He felt a purpose, that he needed to drive toward the goal of making sure life continued. And he realized that maybe she was making the same progression-the closer she got toward death, the more desperate she was to accomplish something, to seek out a purpose, to validate her existence.
He knew what that was like.
He couldn't deny what he had seen in what they described as the Tomb of Athena. He had seen the field and felt the breeze and smelled the grass. The Lagoon Nebula overhead, he realized that without Roslin leading them, pushing them, defying him, they never would have found this place or known its truth.
He'd looked at her awestruck under the stars and he began to believe in her.
Cottle had prohibited him from commandeering his own Raptor for the trip down to Kobol, so he'd been shamefully relegated to the back seat for the ride there and back up.
He was sitting in the jump seat waiting for departure and Laura climbed up the wing and ducked inside. She sat beside him and fastened her restraints, her thigh brushing and settling against his own.
"We do this together from now on," she said, not looking at him. "Are you on board with me, Bill?"
"Looks like I am," he replied as the hatch closed. She laughed softly and nudged him with her shoulder.
"I'm serious. Are we going to do this?"
He looked over at her, her smile making him smile in return.
"Together," he said. "To Earth. To the end."
Her smile softened and her lips pressed together. Then she nodded and turned to the canopy as the bird lifted off, her slender hands folded in her lap.
-
The road hadn't been easy since their return from Kobol. Laura found that opening up one box often revealed another, and another, puzzles and complications neverending. And now with the return of Pegasus to the Fleet, she had never felt a more pressing need for more time. Time to fix things, time to make things right.
She was running out of time, always running out of time. She wanted to slow down the clock and find Earth before she passed on, but with every day it was looking less likely that she would lead them to this promised land.
Together. To Earth. To the end.
It was a heavy burden to bear, but she did it silently because it was her duty.
She hated that her body was deteriorating at the time the Fleet needed her the most. The disease was unrelenting. It didn't care what she wanted; it just took and took, ruthlessly, one healthy cell at a time. It was much like the Cylons, like she was fighting a fight inside and outside of her body.
She was exhausted in every way.
And then there was Bill, who was looking to her more for leadership and at times, seemed like he was looking to her for more than that. He'd changed since he was shot. Survival had done something to him, had changed the way he treated people and even the way he treated himself. Kobol had been common ground for them and it was the first time she'd felt they were truly together.
It had changed both of them.
He looked at her differently. He smiled at her more. She felt herself wanting his company and wanting other things, and she was equally grateful and saddened by his willingness to be at her side, even as she was ailing.
To be given another chance at life had to be something.
She, on the other hand, had to give up the idea that there would be a miracle, that Doc Cottle could remove what was killing her. It was too late for that. She wanted to enjoy these moments between her and Bill but every one of them was tainted with a reminder of what they wouldn't be able to have.
If only she had met him sooner; if only they weren't fighting for their lives every day. If only they could find Earth a little bit sooner, if only she had gotten her mammograms back on Caprica.
If only, if only.
There were times she felt too weak to get up but she did it anyway.
There were times breathing took so much effort and hurt so badly that she wanted to stop.
But Bill hadn't given up, and neither would she.
Laura had done a good job of ignoring the XO's wife since the dinner party the night of her arrival. Certainly she was around, plotting and scheming as it seemed her way to do things. Laura didn't trust her at all, not since she set foot on Galactica.
Her lack of trust was only strengthened after Bill was shot, and it became obvious even in her chamalla-withdrawn state that Ellen Tigh's M.O. was power-as much as she could get, as fast as she could get it.
She had dealt with these kinds of people all her life.
It had gotten to the point that they needed to have a conversation. Ever since her stint in the brig she knew Ellen's true capabilities as a manipulator, and the last thing she needed was a human in the Fleet conspiring against them. She'd had enough of that.
She called a meeting between them that she knew would be terse. Ellen offered to host it at the XO's quarters but Laura insisted on having it aboard Colonial One. Not only could she control the flow of alcohol there-of which there would be none-but she felt empowered on her own ship.
"Let's cut to the chase, Ellen," Laura said from behind her desk as the woman entered her office, more of a saunter, her eyes darting about. She didn't greet her formally. Currently, she didn't feel like she deserved the courtesy. "I know what you did to me in the brig."
"Well, hello to you too, Madame President," Ellen said, sitting down and crossing her legs primly in the chair in front of Laura's desk. "By the way, you were out of your mind. Completely frakked up." Ellen smiled then. "It was amazing to see."
Her chamalla addiction and withdrawal were nothing she was proud of. She hadn't expected it to affect her quite as drastically as it did. It was a low moment, and one of those moments when a predator smells an injured animal and circles it, waiting. "And you tried to take advantage of it."
Ellen tilted her head, staring her down. "I'm of the opinion that our leaders shouldn't be disabled during times of conflict. So I tried to make sure we had somebody in charge who knew what day it was."
"Who you're also married to."
"Just happen to be."
"Who ended up with blood on his hands because he couldn't handle it."
"What is your point, Laura." Ellen's tone was regulated, but bitter.
Off kilter from Ellen's stripping her of her title, which nearly sent her over the edge, Laura took a deep, calming breath. The woman was ignorant and intentionally missing her point. "If there is one thing I'm sure of, it's that Bill Adama is meant to lead this Fleet. Not your husband, or you by proxy, thank the Gods."
"So that's why you called me here? To make sure we all play our roles?" Ellen uncrossed her legs and leaned forward. "How's your part going, Dying Leader? Are we going to find Earth?"
This bitch played hardball. Laura knew the game.
Laura leaned in over her desk, leveling the playing field. "Why don't you leave the important decisions to me while you go play housewife."
"There are some benefits to playing housewife. Things I particularly enjoy."
Laura smirked with a laugh. "I'm sure you do."
"Maybe you should try it sometime." Ellen stood up and put her hands on her hips. Laura found her staging amusing, but also felt a surge of jealousy at her implications. "Maybe you just need to get frakked."
Laura shook her head, staring at her in disbelief. "Did you just tell me to go get frakked?"
"Why not? You know, Bill Adama's not half bad."
It was a quick punch to the gut and Laura attempted to look unfazed. "How the frak would you know?"
Ellen shrugged, a sly smile emerging. "I just know. Years of experience."
Laura studied her, unsure of whether to believe her or not. The idea of Bill touching this woman honestly blew her mind, especially since she was married to his XO. It made no sense. Certainly he wouldn't lack that judgment. "Maybe you should get back to Galactica. I'd hate to keep you from your particular enjoyments."
"You don't know people like you think you do, Laura."
Laura leaned back in her chair. "Oh, likewise. I'm sure."
Ellen was right and it left her unsettled.
-
Sometimes when Bill stroked himself...
Sometimes when Laura touched herself...
... he thought about her. Sometimes he started out thinking about her, sometimes his thoughts wandered over to her legs in her pencil skirts or how her hair would look spread across his pillow.
... she thought about him. She felt guilty about it at first, because the last thing she needed to do was picture him naked, but then again, some days it was the only thing she wanted to do.
He ran his hand up his cock, palming it, groaning at the thought of her unbuttoning her pink dress shirt, one agonizing button at a time. Sometimes she would look at him angrily, like he'd just done something wrong. Sometimes she looked at him like she loved him, like she was revealing herself to him for the first time.
She pressed her fingers against her clit, coaxing it to arousal with her fingertips. She wanted him out of his uniform-she wanted to feel the muscles of his arms flexing under her hands and kiss his objections right off of his lips. Sometimes he was aggressive, pushing her against his desk roughly, forcing her ass up and tearing off her panties. Sometimes he was slow, leading her to his rack, letting her remove his glasses and his clothes.
Sometimes she wore heels, sometimes she kept them on the whole time.
Sometimes she grabbed his tanks in her teeth and cried out against them when he entered her.
He stroked himself, movements jerky, fingers curled tightly, knowing she'd be tight and wet. Sometimes he could practically taste her on his tongue already. He wanted her all over his mouth; he wanted his tongue buried deep and her legs spread wide and he wanted her losing it, crying out, clawing at the sheets.
She frakked herself with her fingers, two then three, knowing he'd be thick and frak her hard. Sometimes he took her from behind, owning her, bruising her hips with his fingers and making her sweat against his sheets. She wanted his chest against her back; she wanted his breath on her ear and she wanted him to make her wait before he let her come.
Suddenly, this time, she wondered if he'd ever frakked Ellen that way.
-
Sometimes when he came he said her name, knowing no one could hear him.
This time, she didn't come, merely groaned in frustration and curled up in her makeshift bed.
-
Ellen had always had a self-professed intuitive sense about people-their wants, their needs, their desires, no matter how hidden. She couldn't explain it, though at times it approached something she'd best describe as clairvoyance.
She sensed Bill had a growing affection toward Laura. Something seemed to have happened when he went down to Kobol to find her, which Ellen found to be terribly romantic and totally uncharacteristic of him. When they came back and he led that slow clap for her, which even for Bill was over the top, Ellen noticed they started to treat each other differently.
So of course, she began her own reconnaissance mission, as she had nothing better to do. A few times in the CIC, Bill and Laura would glance at each other over a paper exchange and their hands would linger. In the hallways when walking, she occasionally observed how he'd walk closer to Laura and once, how he brushed his hand against her lower back.
There was more respect there. Maybe there was more there.
Then Ellen stopped seeing her around. She guessed the President had taken a turn for the worse in regard to her illness. Bill would go visit her and return with a haunted look.
Ellen wondered if they'd ever gotten to frak.
It was tragic.
Bill wasn't the kind to confess anything to anyone, but Ellen also knew that the man had to have a need to discuss what was going on with him and this woman in his life who was about to die.
She could see the disease eating away at him just as it was Laura, turning light into dark and turning hope into hopelessness. It was dangerous, love-she often felt it with Saul. When one of them went into the tailspin it was awfully hard not to follow.
Ellen had different reasons for wanting Bill to confide in her-first, of course, she considered Bill a dear friend, an extremely close one at times, no matter how much they disagreed on certain arrangements. She cared about his well-being and wanted the best for him, no matter what that was. But she had to admit that the whole storyline of this relationship between the Admiral and the soon-to-be-ex President was compelling and intriguing. She wanted to know more. She considered it very human of her to want this. It was like the proverbial train wreck-she just couldn't look away.
She showed up at Bill's quarters one day while Saul was on duty. He'd come to the hatch in an oversized brown robe and given her a wary look. He looked like hell. There were certainly plenty of things to be upset about, not the least of which being Roslin.
"I'm not here to frak," she whispered.
"For frak's sake." He grunted and grabbed her by the arm, pulling her inside the hatch.
He walked away and she closed the door, spinning the wheel. He plopped down on the couch and rolled his head back. She noted his tumbler on the table, a quarter full of alcohol. She resisted the urge to finish it off for him. "What is it, Ellen?"
She toed off her heels and padded toward him, reminded that the carpet in the Admiral's quarters was much thicker than in the XO's. "Just checking on you. You know. Seeing how you are."
He hummed disapprovingly. "Saul send you?"
"No." She sat down next to him and put her head back as well. "I do genuinely care for people, you know. Sometimes."
"I know." He took a deep breath and let it out. "I'm sorry if I've been a dick lately. Things have been... difficult."
"You're only a man, Adama. You can only take so much."
They were silent and Ellen reached over to run her fingers through the back of his hair. It was completely asexual, a more intimate touch than she was used to with him. He relaxed a bit into the stroke of her hand.
"So... what's up with you and Roslin, anyway?"
He looked at her out of the corner of one squinted eye. "Who are you, my confidant?"
"I could be. Lords know you could use one."
He stretched his hands out on his lap, his fingers rubbing against the thick terrycloth. She gently massaged his neck, watching him struggle with his coming words.
"You always say you're meant to be with Saul."
"I do. And I usually mean it. 'Cept when he's a jackass."
He didn't smile. "Maybe I'm meant to be with her."
"Until she dies. Then what?"
She had to say it. Bill had a tendency to treat reality a bit fantastically, denying it until it smacked him right in the face. Sometimes even then. "Everybody dies, Ellen."
"Yes." She chewed on the inside of her cheek. "Some a little sooner than others."
He finally turned his face to look at her. "So you think that love should end at death?"
It was an unexpected question, one which she felt uneasy answering for certain. "Some things are timeless, ageless. If you want me to be honest, Bill... if you're already in love with her, there's nothing you can do. You can't control it. You just go with it."
"I didn't say I was in love with her."
Ellen shook her head and grinned. Pathetic. "Yeah?"
"But I kissed her."
And then shock. "When?"
He looked away, putting his hands behind his head with a drawn-out sigh. She moved her hand, reclining into his couch again. "When she gave me those Admiral pips."
Ellen felt like there was more he wanted to say, but maybe those words weren't meant for her.
"Seeing as she could barely hold herself upright, I think any other gestures toward her would have been uncouth."
She nodded, not looking to him, giving him his space to think. "If that's all you ever have... will you be okay with that?"
"We have more than that. It's always been more than that."
"I know the feeling."
The wireless buzzed and Bill rose, moving quickly to reach it. She heard his low murmuring, then watched him begin to yank on his boots.
"They're transferring Laura over here," he said.
"She's bad?"
"She's bad." He grunted as he tied his last shoelace. "I knew it would happen. Death never waits."