~BSG: Little Things
Title: Little things
Author: kastari
Pairing: Adama/Roslin
Summary: He closed the book he had been pretending to read. “I’ve been thinking,” he began. “I don’t really know much about you.”
Genre: Drama/Romance
Rating: T
Disclaimer: I’m just playing in Universal’s sandbox.
Little Things
She sat at the table, her attention focused on some report in front of her, the pen she held, flicking between her thumb and forefinger.
He sat in the chair, his attention focused on her, not the book he held. Only his eyes had moved. Away from the page, his line of sight shifted slightly up and just over the top rim of his glasses ten minutes ago. He was amazed at the rate of speed her pen flicked.
She felt his eyes on her. It was unnerving as she tried to concentrate. Suddenly, the pen in her hand froze. She couldn’t stand it anymore. Only her eyes moved. Away from the report, her line of sight shifted slightly up and just over the top rim of her glasses. He was watching her. “What are you looking at?”
He smiled at her. “You,” he said simply.
She laughed with the little snort he had come to love. Closing her report folder, she took her glasses off and sat back.
He continued to stare at her.
“What?!” she demanded.
He closed the book he had been pretending to read. “I’ve been thinking,” he began. “I don’t really know much about you.”
“What?” she asked in disbelief. He was her friend, her confidant, her lover; he had become her rock, her calm. Their lives had been entangled for a very long time. “Yes you do.”
“No, I don’t.” His tone was gentle, but insistent.
She smiled at him, her hazel eyes flashing with mischief. “What do you wanna know?” She pushed the chair back, tossed her glasses on the table and moved to the old, leather couch. Slipping her shoes off, she tucked one leg up underneath her and relaxed into the soft, worn cushions, her movement a silent invitation.
He abandoned his book on the arm of the chair. “The little things,” he said, sitting down beside her. He brushed the silken scarf she wore around her head, still seeing her fall of tangled auburn curls even if she no longer could. He slid his arm around her, pulling her close and she leaned into him.
She listened to his heartbeat. “Little things?” she asked, surprised. “Hmm…I can bait a hook.” It was the first ridiculous thing that popped into her head.
His laughter filled the room. He didn’t laugh nearly enough. “Now why doesn’t that surprise me?”
She turned, slapped him playfully on his chest, and then settled back into the comfortable crook of his arm. “My parents had a summer house on a lake,” she continued. “I lived for summers at the lake house. We had a boat. The wind on your face, the bucking surge and swell of the waves-it was glorious. I used to fish with my father...” Her words trailed. They were hidden treasures, the memories of time spent with her father. She stretched her legs the length of the couch. “I was a cheerleader in high school, but secretly I always wanted to be a pom pom girl.” It was a whispered confession. “The pom pom squad performed all the great dance routines.” She laughed at the long ago memory. “I like to be in the front, dig in the dirt and cook. I’d rather go barefoot. I have a bit of a temper, but I only fight with people I like. And I have an insane fear of spiders.” She took his hand and laced her fingers with his, absently fiddling with the gold band he wore. He noticed she did that a lot-fiddled with his ring. “I’m extremely possessive and protective of the people I care about.” He felt the squeeze of her free hand on his thigh. “And I loathe broccoli. It shouldn’t even be a vegetable.”
Inside he was laughing so hard he could barely breathe. “I adore broccoli,” he said with a straight face.
Her laughter filled the room. She didn’t laugh nearly enough. “Hey! This is about me, not you!” she said, tightening her grip of his hand. She slapped his thigh with her other. He squeezed her hand back. She paused. “I wish I would have had children,” she said, quietly. “I think I would have been a good mother.”
He could hear the sadness in her voice. Gently, with great tenderness, he kissed the top of her head. “I believe you would have been,” he said softly. His fingers brushed her wrist, absently fiddling with the bracelet she wore. She noticed he did that a lot-fiddled with her bracelet.
“We all had one,” she began, her voice shaky. “Matching silver bracelets-my mother, my sisters and I-so we would always be connected…” Tears welled in her eyes. She blinked them back and felt him tighten his embrace. Silence enveloped them. She took a deep, steadying breath. “I believe you have to make peace with your past because that part of you is gone,” she said quietly. Then, sitting up, she turned and faced him. “And that cabin of mine, it would have an easterly view. Watching the sun rise everyday…now that would be something…”
He listened to her talk, wanting to store up the sound of her voice so he could draw it out late at night when he was alone and pretend that she was still with him. Her voice, her laughter, how she sighed, breathed and snorted her little snort, the hum that she made when he touched her, the way she whispered his name when he loved her… He found himself hoarding the sounds so that he would be able to remember it all when she was gone.
Her eyes held his. “What?” she asked softly. Without a word, he tipped her chin up and kissed her gently. She thought she knew him like the back of her hand, but suddenly she wasn’t so sure… “Who are you, William Adama?” Her question was barely a whisper.
His eyes swept her face, committing it to memory. “I’m the man who’s been waiting for you all of his life.”
~*~
Their shadows danced in the candlelight. The moment they came together, Laura understood why they belonged to each other. He filled her and she took away his scars. She wrapped her arms around his neck, surprised by the tears that slid from the edges of her eyes. “Do you have any idea how much I love you?”
Her voice curled over him like silk. “Yes,” he breathed, letting himself fall into her, grasping at her words and the electric feel of her skin against his. “Laura…” he murmured. She pulled him closer, running her hands down his back and marveling at how comfortably they fit together.
He made love to her as he never had before. He was rough with her until she cried out, and then so gentle she had to press his hands against her, craving more. It wasn’t passion. It was surrender-for the first time she gave herself to him completely and he finally let her go.
Sometime in the middle of the night Bill reached for her, pulling her close. He held her tight against him.
“Promise me,” she whispered in the darkness.
“Promise you what?” he breathed into the soft curve of her neck.
His breath tickling her, she turned, wrapped her arms around him and rested her head on his chest. She listened to his heartbeat for a long time. He remembered how he stroked her hair in the quiet afterglow of their lovemaking. Now he traced feather-soft patterns on her bare shoulder instead. “Promise you won’t let me die in that sickbay,” she said quietly.
“Life Station,” he replied softly.
“Call it whatever you want, just promise you won’t let me die there.”
He kissed her very lightly. “I promise.”
Sleep took them both.
~*~
His eyes snapped open in the darkness, her sudden movement jolting him abruptly from sleep. Something was wrong. He could feel her panic. Her breathing erratic and labored, she struggled beside him, fighting the blankets. “Laura?” He hit the light above the bed and a soft glow illuminated the room. Her eyes were wild with fear.
She reached out to him, gasping desperately for air. “I can’t breathe, Bill. I can’t breathe…”
He grabbed the phone.
The sound of the wireless rudely interrupting his sleep, Cottle opened his eyes and glared at the clock. Who in the hell would be calling him at this obscene hour? He picked up the phone.
“JACK!”
The fear in Adama’s voice was palpable. In all the years he had known him, Cottle had never heard it before. It made the hair on the back of his neck stand up. Instantly he was wide awake. “I’ll be right there.”
~*~
She was suffocating. “Bill…” she gasped. “Bill …” On the edge of hysteria, she grabbed his arm. She needed to say connected to him…
He moved from the bed trying to dress, his hand touching her as he fumbled with his clothing. He needed to stay connected to her. “Laura,” he pleaded. “Laura, look at me.” His eyes held hers. “It’s all right. It’s going to be all right.” He sat on the bed beside her and took her into his arms, rubbing her back, trying to calm her. Frenzied, she clung to him, gasping for breath. There was nothing he could do. The sound of the opening hatch sliced through the maelstrom.
Cottle quickly moved through Adama’s quarters and found them in the bedroom. Bill was holding her, trying to soothe and calm her. Laura, panic stricken, was gasping for breath. “Laura, it’s Jack. Look at me. Look at me!” he commanded. Bill eased her back down on the bed and stepped back.
“No!” she cried, reaching for him.
“Shhh,” Bill comforted her, taking her hand. “Let Jack help you.”
“Young lady, look at me!” His forceful tone startled her and she redirected her focus from Adama to Cottle. He held her gaze. “I need you to stop fighting. Relax.” He took a small, portable nebulizer from his bag and placed it over Laura’s face. “Breathe,” he ordered. “Deep, slow breaths.” The fine, cool mist opened her throat and lungs. She gulped air. “Easy. Slow, deep breaths. It’s okay.” Tears slid down her cheeks. “Shhh,” Cottle said softly. Slowly she relaxed and settled under his ministrations, easing her vice-like grip on Bill’s hand. Her breathing retuned to normal and Cottle removed the nebulizer from her face. He looked at Adama. “I want her in Life Station for observation.”
“No! Bill, you promised…”
Cottle looked to Adama. “You promised her what?”
Bill took a deep breath. “I promised I wouldn’t let her die in your sickbay.”
“SICKBAY?” Cottle looked from Bill to Laura then back to Bill. “Oh, for the love of the gods. Not on my watch and certainly not in my sickbay.” He rolled his eyes. I’m the CMO of this Fleet and I don’t need to ask permission. Roslin, I want you in my Life Station for observation and some routine tests. Adama, you will see that she gets there.
“No gurney, no guards, no fanfare,” Laura pleaded softly. She met Cottle’s irritated stare.
“Fine. He’s responsible for you,” Cottle said, nodding toward Bill. “Now get your presidential ass dressed and to my Life Station. That’s an order.”
~*~
There was nothing he could do. No brilliant military strategy, no stealth viper flight maneuver, and no FTL escape jump anywhere could save her. That and her gods seemed to be fresh out of miracles.
There was no privacy in Life Station. It didn’t matter that she was the president of the Twelve Colonies, only a thin curtain surrounded her bed. He stood on the other side of it in the shadowy light, out of the way, helpless, watching Cottle and Ishay hover around her. Laura Roslin was a most reluctant patient.
Cottle knew Adama wasn’t going to leave her side no matter what he said. Not anymore. Ishay looked up and saw the admiral. She smiled softly at him and moved to another patient. Cottle nodded and Bill stepped from the shadows. “Test results should be in tomorrow,” Cottle said, “but you and I both already know what this is all about and so does she.” The two men locked gazes. “I gave her something to take the edge off. She’s resting comfortably. I’m not a fortune teller, but I don’t see her dying in my sickbay tonight. I’ll release her in the morning since she’ll be barking at day break to be off leash. I never did like yapping dogs.” Cottle grunted. It was a small, subtle acknowledgment of his affection for the obstinate woman who tried his patience. He placed a hand on Bill’s shoulder. With a strong grip and no words, he turned and was gone.
It was quiet except for the soft, steady beeping of the heart monitor. He saw an IV drip and a tangle of oxygen tubing. Her eyes were closed and he watched the even rise and fall of her chest, her breathing now relaxed and calm. Leaning close, he kissed her gently. Then he pulled a chair up beside her bed and sat down. “I like baths-long hot baths, the kind where I can smoke a good cigar, enjoy a vodka martini and relax for hours,” he began. “I play the piano-badly. My mother insisted on lessons. I can ride. The silent communication between a horse and rider fascinates me. Maybe it’s more of a communion-the graceful lines and movement as two become one. I took that skill with me into the cockpit. Understanding the feel of my ship made me a better pilot.” He paused. “My parenting skills leave a lot to be desired.” It was a painful acknowledgement. “A parent should never have to bury a child.” His voice trembled. “I would give anything to have one more day with Zak...” His words trailed and he took a breath. “I love Caprican blueberries and could never get enough of them. I like jazz. When I tell someone to do something, I want it done, I don’t like to lose and I miss my sister,” he said softly. “I wish I could have known her as an adult.” A slight smile crossed his face at the brief, fleeting memory of her. "I married a blonde, but have always had a weakness for redheads. Especially bald ones.” His fingers caressed her face softly. “And I know that women are creatures men should never try to understand.” He took her hand and laced his fingers with hers. “The ring belonged to my grandfather Adama,” he said quietly. “My grandmother never took his name. She was an incredible woman-strong, stubborn, opinionated and willful-a lot like you. My grandfather loved her beyond all reason.” He took a deep, shuddering breath. “I believe it’s not our abilities that show us who we are. It’s our choices.” His vision blurred and he didn’t fight the tears. He squeezed her hand tightly. “And I can’t live without you,” he whispered softly.
~finis~