"If Came the Hour, If Came the Day" (1/1), BSG, A/R
Title: “If Came the Hour, If Came the Day”
Author: angiescully
Rating: T
Spoilers: All through season 4.5, basically.
Summary: He exists without her for nearly a week.
Warning: Character death (but with a not too depressing ending, so don’t let that scare you away!).
Disclaimer: They don't belong to me. This fact makes me sad.
Author’s notes: First of all, thanks so much for the comments on my previous stories. It means the world to me. :) This is absolutely nothing like my latest story, but something that needed to come out (and this was written and finished before “Islanded In a Stream of Stars”… the BSG writers are such fangirls at heart, I swear). Huge thanks to babylon_whore for her betaing and comments. ♥ Any mistakes are completely my own.
She doesn’t want to die surrounded by machines, of stale smells and disease, so when she asks him, they leave everything behind and he carries her from sickbay to their quarters. One foot in front of the other, he walks with her much too light weight in his arms, and neither takes notice of the people staring at their Admiral carrying their dying president through the corridors of their dying ship.
- - -
She rests on top of him, her naked body following the curves of his own, and they are one. (’I just want to feel you,’ she had said - he could never refuse her anything.) She drifts in and out of sleep as he holds her close, and each time he thinks that this is it; this is the last time he’ll hear her voice, this is the last time he’ll look into those green eyes, this is the last time he’ll hear his name fall from her lips.
But she comes to again and again, and each time he thanks the gods he does not believe in for granting him one more moment with her. He is tired to the point where his very bones ache, but he refuses to sleep for as long as she stays with him. He can never have enough time with her, and he’s not going to waste a single second of what they have left.
And so he stays awake, watching her as she slumbers, desperately trying to memorize everything about her. (She is already etched into his memory, but he can never, never have enough of her.) He strokes her scalp tenderly, smooth where his fingers once buried themselves in her deep red curls. He traces along the bridge of her nose, over her cheeks that have become too hollow, her lips that have become too dry. She is still beautiful to him. His fingertips find the curve of her neck and draw a slow path down the length of her spine until his palm rests into the dip at the small of her back. Her skin warms underneath his touch, and she shivers against him even in sleep. His heart constricts with love for her.
He tries to remember every single moment spent with her, from the beginning - good and bad. (The good overpowers the bad, and now as she’s slipping away from him, he would gladly fight with her every day if only it meant he’d still have her with him.) What he can’t remember he asks her when she’s awake. She never questions him; he knows she knows, and he’s grateful she lets him do this. He thinks maybe she needs it just as much as he does.
She stirs gently against him, as if his thoughts are waking her. Their eyes meet and suddenly he knows, can see it coming, lurking in the background. She knows, too, he realizes, when she gives a sad smile, and he wishes he could take it all away from her. Instead he presses his lips against hers in a kiss, tasting her (she still tastes of Laura, of her, of everything that she is), and her content hum vibrates through him.
“When did you fall in love with me?” she asks when her head is resting back against him. Her voice is so weak he can barely make it out, and he thinks no, not yet, please don’t take her yet, as if maybe if he wishes it hard enough, it will come true.
“First time I saw you,” he tells her instead. He grabs the fingers painting small patterns over his chest, holding them to his mouth, kissing each of them.
“Liar.” He doesn’t have to look at her to hear the smile in her voice. “You hated me.”
“I didn’t hate you.”
“No, maybe not, but you certainly didn’t like me.”
“Liked your legs, though.”
She laughs at this; a mere sigh of the rich laugh that used to bore its way into the very core of his soul, but it’s there, it’s real, it’s her, and he revels in it for as long as it lasts. It inevitably turns into coughs; coughs that rip through her body and tear his heart into tiny, little pieces.
“I’ll be there, waiting for you,” she says, once her body has calmed. “I’ll be there when you arrive.”
Her dreams, the ones she had after Emily passed away. She told him about them then, how she knew it was real, how she knew there was something on the other side, and he’s never been more desperate to believe. He doesn’t, but he believes in her, and for now that’s enough.
“I’ll look for you,” he says, his voice holding none of the doubt that is still present within him. He holds her tighter and drops a kiss to the top of her head, and she hums again as she turns her body further into him, seeking strength from him that he already knows will leave with her.
“I’ll build our cabin for us…”
“I’ll hold you to that,” he whispers into her ear. Please, not yet, not yet…
She draws her last breath with his arms surrounding her, her face buried in his neck; he feels the soft puff of air just below his chin as it leaves her chest, and then nothing.
- - -
He exists without her for nearly a week.
For five days, twenty-three hours and seventeen minutes, his heart beats in his chest, his lungs fill with air as each breath is drawn, and he exists without her.
But existing is not the same as living, and he doesn’t live, because he cannot do so without her. Each beating of his heart comes at a slower pace, each breath comes further apart, until finally his body gives up.
- - -
He has never been happier to have her be right.
He stands at the very front of the ship floating across the water. He feels the warmth of the sun on his face, the wind in his hair, the air that fills his lungs, and he feels alive. There’s no pain anymore.
As the shore comes closer, he spots the people waiting for him, happily waving. Zak is there. His parents. People he never thought he’d see again; loved ones that left their lives behind too soon, but they’re here.
She was right.
That’s when he sees her. She stands at the top of the hill just above the shoreline, leaning casually against a tree, and she’s positively glowing. She’s in the bright red dress (that’s a nice color on you), her fiery hair is tumbling down over her shoulders, and even from a distance, he can see health sparkling in her eyes.
He has never been happier to have her be right.
He finds himself surrounded by people as soon as he sets foot on the ground, and he watches her as she waits patiently in the background, and then she’s there, in front of him; alive, healthy, beautiful, smiling, alive.
He can’t move; he can only stare at her as he takes her in. She was right, and he can hardly believe it, but she’s there, she’s real. She raises her hand to his face. Something within him crumbles at her touch, and then she’s in his arms, his hands buried in her hair, and he’s kissing her and he thinks he could stay in this moment until the end of time. He hears that familiar hum of hers, and then her lips part beneath his, and he feels life surge through him.
“You’re early,” she berates him softly as they break apart, but her words hold no trace of anger.
He grabs her by the waist and pulls her body flush against him again, catching her mouth briefly but eagerly; he realizes it doesn’t matter where they are - he will never get enough of her.
“Didn’t trust you to build that cabin of ours properly,” he rumbles jokingly once they pull back, and she throws her head back, her laughter filling the air around them.
Fin.
Author: angiescully
Rating: T
Spoilers: All through season 4.5, basically.
Summary: He exists without her for nearly a week.
Warning: Character death (but with a not too depressing ending, so don’t let that scare you away!).
Disclaimer: They don't belong to me. This fact makes me sad.
Author’s notes: First of all, thanks so much for the comments on my previous stories. It means the world to me. :) This is absolutely nothing like my latest story, but something that needed to come out (and this was written and finished before “Islanded In a Stream of Stars”… the BSG writers are such fangirls at heart, I swear). Huge thanks to babylon_whore for her betaing and comments. ♥ Any mistakes are completely my own.
She doesn’t want to die surrounded by machines, of stale smells and disease, so when she asks him, they leave everything behind and he carries her from sickbay to their quarters. One foot in front of the other, he walks with her much too light weight in his arms, and neither takes notice of the people staring at their Admiral carrying their dying president through the corridors of their dying ship.
- - -
She rests on top of him, her naked body following the curves of his own, and they are one. (’I just want to feel you,’ she had said - he could never refuse her anything.) She drifts in and out of sleep as he holds her close, and each time he thinks that this is it; this is the last time he’ll hear her voice, this is the last time he’ll look into those green eyes, this is the last time he’ll hear his name fall from her lips.
But she comes to again and again, and each time he thanks the gods he does not believe in for granting him one more moment with her. He is tired to the point where his very bones ache, but he refuses to sleep for as long as she stays with him. He can never have enough time with her, and he’s not going to waste a single second of what they have left.
And so he stays awake, watching her as she slumbers, desperately trying to memorize everything about her. (She is already etched into his memory, but he can never, never have enough of her.) He strokes her scalp tenderly, smooth where his fingers once buried themselves in her deep red curls. He traces along the bridge of her nose, over her cheeks that have become too hollow, her lips that have become too dry. She is still beautiful to him. His fingertips find the curve of her neck and draw a slow path down the length of her spine until his palm rests into the dip at the small of her back. Her skin warms underneath his touch, and she shivers against him even in sleep. His heart constricts with love for her.
He tries to remember every single moment spent with her, from the beginning - good and bad. (The good overpowers the bad, and now as she’s slipping away from him, he would gladly fight with her every day if only it meant he’d still have her with him.) What he can’t remember he asks her when she’s awake. She never questions him; he knows she knows, and he’s grateful she lets him do this. He thinks maybe she needs it just as much as he does.
She stirs gently against him, as if his thoughts are waking her. Their eyes meet and suddenly he knows, can see it coming, lurking in the background. She knows, too, he realizes, when she gives a sad smile, and he wishes he could take it all away from her. Instead he presses his lips against hers in a kiss, tasting her (she still tastes of Laura, of her, of everything that she is), and her content hum vibrates through him.
“When did you fall in love with me?” she asks when her head is resting back against him. Her voice is so weak he can barely make it out, and he thinks no, not yet, please don’t take her yet, as if maybe if he wishes it hard enough, it will come true.
“First time I saw you,” he tells her instead. He grabs the fingers painting small patterns over his chest, holding them to his mouth, kissing each of them.
“Liar.” He doesn’t have to look at her to hear the smile in her voice. “You hated me.”
“I didn’t hate you.”
“No, maybe not, but you certainly didn’t like me.”
“Liked your legs, though.”
She laughs at this; a mere sigh of the rich laugh that used to bore its way into the very core of his soul, but it’s there, it’s real, it’s her, and he revels in it for as long as it lasts. It inevitably turns into coughs; coughs that rip through her body and tear his heart into tiny, little pieces.
“I’ll be there, waiting for you,” she says, once her body has calmed. “I’ll be there when you arrive.”
Her dreams, the ones she had after Emily passed away. She told him about them then, how she knew it was real, how she knew there was something on the other side, and he’s never been more desperate to believe. He doesn’t, but he believes in her, and for now that’s enough.
“I’ll look for you,” he says, his voice holding none of the doubt that is still present within him. He holds her tighter and drops a kiss to the top of her head, and she hums again as she turns her body further into him, seeking strength from him that he already knows will leave with her.
“I’ll build our cabin for us…”
“I’ll hold you to that,” he whispers into her ear. Please, not yet, not yet…
She draws her last breath with his arms surrounding her, her face buried in his neck; he feels the soft puff of air just below his chin as it leaves her chest, and then nothing.
- - -
He exists without her for nearly a week.
For five days, twenty-three hours and seventeen minutes, his heart beats in his chest, his lungs fill with air as each breath is drawn, and he exists without her.
But existing is not the same as living, and he doesn’t live, because he cannot do so without her. Each beating of his heart comes at a slower pace, each breath comes further apart, until finally his body gives up.
- - -
He has never been happier to have her be right.
He stands at the very front of the ship floating across the water. He feels the warmth of the sun on his face, the wind in his hair, the air that fills his lungs, and he feels alive. There’s no pain anymore.
As the shore comes closer, he spots the people waiting for him, happily waving. Zak is there. His parents. People he never thought he’d see again; loved ones that left their lives behind too soon, but they’re here.
She was right.
That’s when he sees her. She stands at the top of the hill just above the shoreline, leaning casually against a tree, and she’s positively glowing. She’s in the bright red dress (that’s a nice color on you), her fiery hair is tumbling down over her shoulders, and even from a distance, he can see health sparkling in her eyes.
He has never been happier to have her be right.
He finds himself surrounded by people as soon as he sets foot on the ground, and he watches her as she waits patiently in the background, and then she’s there, in front of him; alive, healthy, beautiful, smiling, alive.
He can’t move; he can only stare at her as he takes her in. She was right, and he can hardly believe it, but she’s there, she’s real. She raises her hand to his face. Something within him crumbles at her touch, and then she’s in his arms, his hands buried in her hair, and he’s kissing her and he thinks he could stay in this moment until the end of time. He hears that familiar hum of hers, and then her lips part beneath his, and he feels life surge through him.
“You’re early,” she berates him softly as they break apart, but her words hold no trace of anger.
He grabs her by the waist and pulls her body flush against him again, catching her mouth briefly but eagerly; he realizes it doesn’t matter where they are - he will never get enough of her.
“Didn’t trust you to build that cabin of ours properly,” he rumbles jokingly once they pull back, and she throws her head back, her laughter filling the air around them.
Fin.