Fanfic: Surrender, Part 1
A post Six of One fic; couldn't resist.
Title: Surrender
Author: larsfarm77
Rating: T (for the first two parts)
Words: 1606 in part 1
Huge thanks to my betas tjonesy, innealta, and ellisandra for amazing work.
Saul Tigh glanced over his left shoulder at the sound of the hatch opening. He was lifting a half empty bottle of ambrosia from the surface of the glass in front of him.
“Don’t put that away.” Bill Adama knocked into Saul’s shoulder in his haste to place his glass on the table. Bright green ambrosia spilled over both their glasses.
“Son of a bitch!” Saul moved the bottle as far from Bill as he could. He’d gone to Lee’s party for the alcohol, not the sentiment. At least not the same sentiment as everyone else - Saul was more than happy to put distance between himself and the former CAG.
The Admiral wandered to the back of the cabin, and Saul caught himself scanning for any sign that Tory, Anders, and the Chief had been there. Frakking pain in the ass, secrets.
Bill didn’t turn. “Just fill it.”
It almost felt like old times. Before music had shifted the deck under his feet, before the line between friend and foe had become so maddeningly blurred. Now it was all he could do to remember that it hadn’t started with the music. He was a Cylon, had been his entire life. What did knowing really change? Nothing? Everything? Damned if he knew, but if he thought about it any harder, he was certain his old friend might see right through him. “So,” Saul said, pouring a salutary amount of ambrosia in Bill’s glass, “… you frakking her yet?”
Bill knocked back the contents of his glass and continued pacing.
“Well, you’re here and you’re brooding. Guess that says enough.”
Saul watched as his friend bumped against the side of his rack, causing a pile of folded uniforms to topple to the floor He gestured towards the leather chair nearest him.
“Don’t frakking tell me to sit.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it.” Saul’s hands came up defensively, and he waved the hand not holding his drink when Bill tried unsteadily to reach for the clothes on the floor. “Leave them. I take advantage of the fact that I can be a total slob now that … now.”
“I’ll drink to that.”
“Cabin crowded?”
Saul took a healthy swallow from his own glass. It burned, just like it always had. Cylon or no.
“Refill.”
Saul was only too happy to comply. Chances were that he’d hit close to the mark, and as long as Bill was willing to drink with him, Saul would let him dance around it. Patience was a small thing to offer the man who had pulled him out of far too many dark places. It unnerved him to think that he could have stayed in that last one on New Caprica, if it meant that he could still have Ellen, still have the illusion of his humanity.
“Hell of a party for Lee. I’d have stayed longer if it wasn’t so frakking obvious that Hot Dog was about to lose his shorts.” He took a second swallow. “I’d rather lose the other eye than see that.”
Adama snorted into his glass.
A wide grin spread across Saul’s face. “Now, if only Racetrack was shittier at cards.”
“I’ll drink to that, too.” Bill almost smiled.
The two men enjoyed a brief silence as they shared more ambrosia. Bill eventually sank into the previously offered leather chair. Saul snickered quietly, wondering what could have happened with Laura that had Bill taking pride in using a chair on his own terms. Best not go there.
“Lee’s punishing himself if you ask me,” Saul said. “You couldn’t pay me enough to sit on the Quorum, listening to hour after hour of bullshit political double talk. Besides, I like knowing who my enemies are.” The irony of his own words fell on Saul’s shoulders like a physical weight.
Bill shifted in his chair. “He’ll find his way.”
“Yeah, sure, Bill.” Saul began to laugh softly. “Let’s see … Viper pilot, mutineer, CAG, ECO, Commander of the Pegasus, unqualified lawyer, political wannabee … and that was what? Two years?”
“You think he’s running.”
Saul leaned back and met his friend’s eyes. “I think he’s one of the men who set Baltar free. Can’t run from that. Though I suppose he’ll be a lot farther from the people with the guns.”
“You do remember that I voted to acquit.”
“Behind closed doors, anonymously. It was Lee’s face in the press. Lee’s face I’ll always remember. What he did to me … to Ellen.” He took a long drink and gently swirled the green liquid remaining in the glass. The pain of losing her was always there, hovering just under his skin. The alcohol never really touched it. “You’re lucky, Bill.”
“Yeah, right.”
Saul waited until the words sank in, until a look of confusion came over Bill’s face. “I’d have given anything for the time that you have.”
“What do you mean?”
“You remember the night I told you about Ellen?”
“’Course I do.”
Saul addressed the glass in his hand. His voice was slurred, and he was sure that if he tried to stand not even Cylon reflexes would keep him upright. He had wanted to tell Bill the first time they had spoken of Ellen’s death, in the bleak hope that voicing what happened would somehow dull the pain, but it had been too raw. “I left something out. And if it makes a difference, if it gets you off your gods damned ass … “
“Saul-“
“It was frakking cold. Power was shut down over the entire east side of tent city. Ellen had lit every candle she could find, had joked that I should be gentle with her so we didn’t set our hair on fire.” Saul laughed bitterly at the memory of Ellen’s giggles as she ran her hand over his naked scalp. “There were shadows everywhere. It should have been romantic. I should have been able to respond to her. But I couldn’t.” He took another drink, and pretended that the ache is his stomach was a result of the alcohol. “Not when I knew what I was gonna have to do the next day. I should have tried. I should have found a way to say goodbye. Instead I acted like it was any other mission - did my duty so no one would have to do it for me.”
“You did what you had to do, Saul.”
I knew you’d say that. Listen, dammit. “I should have said goodbye. She was my wife.”
“You didn’t have a choice.”
“You do.” He managed to look at Bill again. “Why do you think you can’t get Starbuck out of your head? You lost her in an instant, and even though you knew the day would come, you’d give anything for that thing in the brig to be some kind of miracle. And all the while you waste the time you’ve been given with the people that are here now. Laura’s not dying today, or tomorrow, or even next week.” He paused and his voice softened. “Have you told her?”
“That she’s afraid she’s not the prophet, the dying leader?” Bill replied. Saul watched anger slowly erode the expression of sympathy on Bill’s face. “That she’s afraid to die a meaningless death? Yeah,” he shook his head ruefully. “I told her.” He turned away, his hand coming up to rub the back of his neck. He looked decidedly uncomfortable, and more than a little pissed, now that the spotlight had shifted.
“You did always have to start with the nukes. No way Laura Roslin sat and took it. What did she say?”
Bill ran his thumb over the rim of his glass. “Doesn’t matter. She’s right.”
“How’s she doing, Bill?”
The pause was by far the longest of the evening. As much sympathy as he felt for Bill and Laura, as much as he wanted to help them, it was hard not to find comfort in the notion that his friend would know the kind of pain that had consumed him since New Caprica.
“Not good,” Bill finally said into his glass. His next words were so quiet and fraught with emotion that Saul almost didn’t hear them. “She’s giving up.”
“Why? Your denial not sufficient for the two of you? Or was it something you said?” Sarcasm laced his last question.
“Not you too,” Bill grumbled, seriously pissed now.
No more dancing around.
“Look, either way you’re gonna be right where I was after New Caprica,” he said and gestured to his cabin. “I was this close,” he put a hair’s breadth of space between his thumb and index finger, “to never making it out of here.”
Bill blew out a frustrated breath, “Yeah, seems I came to the poster boy for how to deal with loss.”
“Frak you.” Saul lifted the bottle. “Refill?”
“Yeah.”
Saul spilled again as he tried to refill the glasses, snickering at the fact that he insisted on pouring, even though his depth perception had been frakked since New Caprica.
“Tell her, Bill.” He put an unsteady hand on Bill’s shoulder, as his friend reached for his glass. “Tell her before it’s too late to show her.”
Bill didn’t look up, he just clapped his hand over Saul’s before removing it from his shoulder. “Can I stay here?” he said.
***
Click here for Part 2
Title: Surrender
Author: larsfarm77
Rating: T (for the first two parts)
Words: 1606 in part 1
Huge thanks to my betas tjonesy, innealta, and ellisandra for amazing work.
Saul Tigh glanced over his left shoulder at the sound of the hatch opening. He was lifting a half empty bottle of ambrosia from the surface of the glass in front of him.
“Don’t put that away.” Bill Adama knocked into Saul’s shoulder in his haste to place his glass on the table. Bright green ambrosia spilled over both their glasses.
“Son of a bitch!” Saul moved the bottle as far from Bill as he could. He’d gone to Lee’s party for the alcohol, not the sentiment. At least not the same sentiment as everyone else - Saul was more than happy to put distance between himself and the former CAG.
The Admiral wandered to the back of the cabin, and Saul caught himself scanning for any sign that Tory, Anders, and the Chief had been there. Frakking pain in the ass, secrets.
Bill didn’t turn. “Just fill it.”
It almost felt like old times. Before music had shifted the deck under his feet, before the line between friend and foe had become so maddeningly blurred. Now it was all he could do to remember that it hadn’t started with the music. He was a Cylon, had been his entire life. What did knowing really change? Nothing? Everything? Damned if he knew, but if he thought about it any harder, he was certain his old friend might see right through him. “So,” Saul said, pouring a salutary amount of ambrosia in Bill’s glass, “… you frakking her yet?”
Bill knocked back the contents of his glass and continued pacing.
“Well, you’re here and you’re brooding. Guess that says enough.”
Saul watched as his friend bumped against the side of his rack, causing a pile of folded uniforms to topple to the floor He gestured towards the leather chair nearest him.
“Don’t frakking tell me to sit.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it.” Saul’s hands came up defensively, and he waved the hand not holding his drink when Bill tried unsteadily to reach for the clothes on the floor. “Leave them. I take advantage of the fact that I can be a total slob now that … now.”
“I’ll drink to that.”
“Cabin crowded?”
Saul took a healthy swallow from his own glass. It burned, just like it always had. Cylon or no.
“Refill.”
Saul was only too happy to comply. Chances were that he’d hit close to the mark, and as long as Bill was willing to drink with him, Saul would let him dance around it. Patience was a small thing to offer the man who had pulled him out of far too many dark places. It unnerved him to think that he could have stayed in that last one on New Caprica, if it meant that he could still have Ellen, still have the illusion of his humanity.
“Hell of a party for Lee. I’d have stayed longer if it wasn’t so frakking obvious that Hot Dog was about to lose his shorts.” He took a second swallow. “I’d rather lose the other eye than see that.”
Adama snorted into his glass.
A wide grin spread across Saul’s face. “Now, if only Racetrack was shittier at cards.”
“I’ll drink to that, too.” Bill almost smiled.
The two men enjoyed a brief silence as they shared more ambrosia. Bill eventually sank into the previously offered leather chair. Saul snickered quietly, wondering what could have happened with Laura that had Bill taking pride in using a chair on his own terms. Best not go there.
“Lee’s punishing himself if you ask me,” Saul said. “You couldn’t pay me enough to sit on the Quorum, listening to hour after hour of bullshit political double talk. Besides, I like knowing who my enemies are.” The irony of his own words fell on Saul’s shoulders like a physical weight.
Bill shifted in his chair. “He’ll find his way.”
“Yeah, sure, Bill.” Saul began to laugh softly. “Let’s see … Viper pilot, mutineer, CAG, ECO, Commander of the Pegasus, unqualified lawyer, political wannabee … and that was what? Two years?”
“You think he’s running.”
Saul leaned back and met his friend’s eyes. “I think he’s one of the men who set Baltar free. Can’t run from that. Though I suppose he’ll be a lot farther from the people with the guns.”
“You do remember that I voted to acquit.”
“Behind closed doors, anonymously. It was Lee’s face in the press. Lee’s face I’ll always remember. What he did to me … to Ellen.” He took a long drink and gently swirled the green liquid remaining in the glass. The pain of losing her was always there, hovering just under his skin. The alcohol never really touched it. “You’re lucky, Bill.”
“Yeah, right.”
Saul waited until the words sank in, until a look of confusion came over Bill’s face. “I’d have given anything for the time that you have.”
“What do you mean?”
“You remember the night I told you about Ellen?”
“’Course I do.”
Saul addressed the glass in his hand. His voice was slurred, and he was sure that if he tried to stand not even Cylon reflexes would keep him upright. He had wanted to tell Bill the first time they had spoken of Ellen’s death, in the bleak hope that voicing what happened would somehow dull the pain, but it had been too raw. “I left something out. And if it makes a difference, if it gets you off your gods damned ass … “
“Saul-“
“It was frakking cold. Power was shut down over the entire east side of tent city. Ellen had lit every candle she could find, had joked that I should be gentle with her so we didn’t set our hair on fire.” Saul laughed bitterly at the memory of Ellen’s giggles as she ran her hand over his naked scalp. “There were shadows everywhere. It should have been romantic. I should have been able to respond to her. But I couldn’t.” He took another drink, and pretended that the ache is his stomach was a result of the alcohol. “Not when I knew what I was gonna have to do the next day. I should have tried. I should have found a way to say goodbye. Instead I acted like it was any other mission - did my duty so no one would have to do it for me.”
“You did what you had to do, Saul.”
I knew you’d say that. Listen, dammit. “I should have said goodbye. She was my wife.”
“You didn’t have a choice.”
“You do.” He managed to look at Bill again. “Why do you think you can’t get Starbuck out of your head? You lost her in an instant, and even though you knew the day would come, you’d give anything for that thing in the brig to be some kind of miracle. And all the while you waste the time you’ve been given with the people that are here now. Laura’s not dying today, or tomorrow, or even next week.” He paused and his voice softened. “Have you told her?”
“That she’s afraid she’s not the prophet, the dying leader?” Bill replied. Saul watched anger slowly erode the expression of sympathy on Bill’s face. “That she’s afraid to die a meaningless death? Yeah,” he shook his head ruefully. “I told her.” He turned away, his hand coming up to rub the back of his neck. He looked decidedly uncomfortable, and more than a little pissed, now that the spotlight had shifted.
“You did always have to start with the nukes. No way Laura Roslin sat and took it. What did she say?”
Bill ran his thumb over the rim of his glass. “Doesn’t matter. She’s right.”
“How’s she doing, Bill?”
The pause was by far the longest of the evening. As much sympathy as he felt for Bill and Laura, as much as he wanted to help them, it was hard not to find comfort in the notion that his friend would know the kind of pain that had consumed him since New Caprica.
“Not good,” Bill finally said into his glass. His next words were so quiet and fraught with emotion that Saul almost didn’t hear them. “She’s giving up.”
“Why? Your denial not sufficient for the two of you? Or was it something you said?” Sarcasm laced his last question.
“Not you too,” Bill grumbled, seriously pissed now.
No more dancing around.
“Look, either way you’re gonna be right where I was after New Caprica,” he said and gestured to his cabin. “I was this close,” he put a hair’s breadth of space between his thumb and index finger, “to never making it out of here.”
Bill blew out a frustrated breath, “Yeah, seems I came to the poster boy for how to deal with loss.”
“Frak you.” Saul lifted the bottle. “Refill?”
“Yeah.”
Saul spilled again as he tried to refill the glasses, snickering at the fact that he insisted on pouring, even though his depth perception had been frakked since New Caprica.
“Tell her, Bill.” He put an unsteady hand on Bill’s shoulder, as his friend reached for his glass. “Tell her before it’s too late to show her.”
Bill didn’t look up, he just clapped his hand over Saul’s before removing it from his shoulder. “Can I stay here?” he said.
***
Click here for Part 2