Hunger Strike
Title: Hunger Strike
Rating: T
Word Count: ~1800
Pairing: A/R
Disclaimer: Don't own them.
Summary: Laura and Bill discuss starvation--and the other time Laura went hungry. Angsty with a side of fluff.
A/N: This was written for fragrantwoods's prompt. Thanks for such a great prompt. :D
They sat in Bill’s quarters. Gaeta briefed them on the situation, doing his number crunching with efficiency that made Laura wonder sometimes. It wasn’t that she seriously thought he was a cylon, but it did cross her mind once or twice. Evidently, it didn’t matter anyway. After everything, the cylons, whoever they were, wouldn’t be responsible for the end of humanity--at least not directly.
After Gaeta offered his final statistic, Bill dismissed him. His words and tone the same as any other time she’d heard them--very routine. There wasn’t much to be done: Either they’d find another food source, or they wouldn’t. It all seemed very familiar. In the last three years, they’d lost their homes, run out of water, been chased to a mudball of a planet, and now their food was spoiling.
The meeting was over, but Laura didn’t feel like leaving. It was the end of the world, again, and she wanted to spend as much of it as she could with her best friend. So, she remained on the sofa with him, content to just sit. Bill seemed to be on her wavelength--he usually was after they got over their initial missteps and mistrust. He turned to her. “Did you ever think this was how we were gonna go out?”
Laura shook her head. “No, I can’t say that’s how I envisioned our end.”
He looked at her. She knew he was thinking of all the times they could have died, should have died. “I guess I’m talking to the wrong person.”
She smiled. She knew it didn’t reach her eyes, but it was the best she could do. “Probably so. It’s kind of funny, I survived the attacks, cancer, cylon occupation. Your brig--”
He snorted. “I wondered when you were gonna bring that up. It’s been, what, a few weeks?”
“Is it my fault you gave me the best weapon to win any argument?”
He looked down, and Laura would have sworn she heard him grunt. “After the first war ended, I didn’t expect to die a glorious death, but starvation?”
“You had higher hopes than that?”
He shook his head. “I don’t know about hopes, but I guess I would have liked to die in battle, if I could choose, or...”
“Or?”
“Forget it, it’s stupid.”
“Oh, no, Mister. Now you have to tell me. Consider it an order.”
“Humph. It’s been awhile since you’ve given me one of those.”
“Technically, I give you one every time I speak, but I don’t usually have to pull teeth to get you to comply.”
He shot her the Adama Glare. There was a time--the first week of their reluctant partnership--when she would have been intimidated by it. Now, she just found it endearing. She smiled, and his face broke into a grin, and he started laughing. “That never really worked on you, did it?”
She placed her hand on his arm. “Oh, Bill. There was a time--a brief one, mind you--when that worked on me. But then...”
“What?”
“I realized you’re a soft touch.”
He let out a grunt, which made Laura smile even more. “I’m not. I’m Admiral Adama. The hardass.”
She laughed. “Don’t worry, I think I’m the only one who knows your secret--and maybe Kara and Dee.”
“Not Lee?”
She shook her head. “I don’t think Lee can see it.”
Laura watched him retreat inside himself for a moment. “We’ve come a long way, but...”
She put her hand on his arm. “It’s not easy for a father and son. And, well, with you two...” She trailed off, sitting there. Then she remembered what they were talking about. “Hey! Don’t think you can get off that easy, Adama. I want to know what you were gonna say.”
“With you.”
“What?”
“I was gonna say ‘with you.’” She wasn't getting it, so he continued, “That’s how I’d wanna go, if I had the choice.”
“Oh.” She wasn’t expecting that. What they had wasn’t something they’d ever spoken about. It was a connection that occurred over time, and neither of them really had to work at it. It just happened. She smiled at him. “It seems like you’ll get your wish.”
She rested her head against his chest, and he put his arm around her, holding her to him. “This wouldn’t be the first time I starved,” she said.
“New Caprica?” He looked down at her.
She realized they’d never really spoken about what went on down there. When they did, it was always in the abstract. Costs, numbers erased from the whiteboard. The details that really mattered--Saul’s eye, Ellen, Kara, all the others--went unspoken. Laura shook her head. “I never starved down there.”
That was true. She hadn’t. Even the Cylons made sure she was fed when she was in detention. It was like they wanted her alive--if only to torture her through the others’ suffering. The food wasn’t great--and there was never quite enough of it, but she didn’t starve.
“No?” He looked at her. She could see the uncertainty there. He wanted to believe her--both because she’d spoken, and he liked to think she was honest, and because he wanted it to be true, needed it to be true.
She nodded. “There was food. Always. It wasn’t great. Wasn’t enough, but...”
He sighed his relief. She knew he was almost as sensitive about that place as she. It hurt him to know his people--his family--had been through so much, while he was powerless to help. She wasn’t sure which of them had it worse: Him being so far away, or her being so close. Somehow knowing she hadn’t starved down there restored the tenuous center of his being. She knew what that was about. He was the center of her calm too.
She moved her hand to his chest, patting it. “Wanna hear a story?”
“Sure.”
“I was in college--”
“Oh, it’s one of those stories.”
She smacked him. “You gonna interrupt me the whole time, Bill?!”
“Just doing what you do.”
“Is it my fault it takes you too long to tell a story?”
He grunted. “Continue.”
“Anyway, I was dating this guy. I thought he was the most sensitive soul in the world. He had an artist’s temperament. Principles, you know?”
“Not sure I like where this is going.”
“Oh, would you like me to stop?” She asked, knowing she had no intention of stopping.
He sighed. “No.”
“Anyway, I was young and thought he was the greatest. I should probably add I was a late bloomer and didn’t really come into my own until after I graduated from high school.”
“Oh, did my President have an awkward stage?”
She smacked him again. “If you’re going to poke fun, I’ll end my story right here.”
He stroked her face. “I just wish I’d known you then, is all.”
She ignored the difference of their ages and the impossibility of them having known each other for so long. It was a nice thought. What would their lives have been like if they met before war and death and loss? Would they have fought like they used to? Would they spend their evenings reading by the fire?
She smiled. “Yeah, I was awkward. And shy, can you imagine that?”
“But you were on the debate team.”
“My father thought that would help me get over my shyness. He always said, ‘Laura, no one will know how smart you are, or what good ideas you have, if you don’t speak for yourself.’ I never felt comfortable doing that, but I knew what he meant. So I joined the debate team, and I wasn’t so bad. After I got over my giggles, of course.”
“And then you grew up to become the President of the Twelve Colonies, the woman who frightens Cylons, terrorists, and Admirals alike.”
“Do I frighten you, Bill?” She looked up, surprised.
He smiled. “Sometimes. I think it’s your strength. I’ve never met anyone like you before. I don’t always know what to make of you.”
“Oh, well. Before that, I was a young college freshman dating a senior, and he was my first boyfriend ever, and I thought it was the coolest thing that he was older than me, and so smart and sophisticated.” She rolled her eyes. “My parents hated him, of course. But they never tried to break us up. They always encouraged me to learn my lessons. And my dad was happy for me. ‘That’s the point of dating, Laura. Learning about people and yourself.’” She laughed. “My dad always did have a point.”
“You really loved him.”
She nodded. “I really did.”
“I meant your father.”
She smiled. “I know. Me too.”
“What about the artist?”
She shook her head. “You know the story there, his ‘artist temperament’ meant he needed more than one girlfriend at once. So much for his fine principles.” Not that she was much better, as it turned out, but she never claimed to be--and she never committed to anyone.
“Ouch.”
“It was a long time ago.” She smiled. “Anyway, before I found about his ‘needs,’ we got involved in a protest for the crisis on Tauron.”
“Which one?”
There had been a lot before the Colonies formed under one government, one President. Of course, there were still problems on the various Colonies even in the days right before the attacks. 50 Billion people was a lot to manage. Laura knew she struggled with the 38,000 in her fleet.
“I don’t remember. Whatever one was going on 35 years ago.” She shook her head. It was surreal talking about this now. “Anyway, it was a hunger strike. I went a week without eating.” She smiled. “I’ve never gone more than a day since.”
He took her hand. “We’ll find something, Laura. We always do.”
“Yeah, we will. One of your pilots--probably Starbuck--will find a wonderful ice cream planet or something.”
He laughed. “That would be nice.” He gestured to the hatch. “Do you have to leave?”
She shook her head. “I think I’ll stay here tonight, if that’s okay. I can report our findings to the press tomorrow.”
“In that case, I think we should get ready for bed.”
She smiled. “I think that is an excellent idea.”
.
.
.
He held her so tight as she lay against his chest. She knew he was determined to die with her whenever that was going to be. Unless there was a miracle--another one, they’d be dying in days. But with her stomach full from their dinner (although she didn’t remember what it was) and her...Bill holding her, she didn’t see how that was possible. She fell asleep thinking about Starbuck and an ice cream planet--and hours with Bill eating sundae after sundae.
Rating: T
Word Count: ~1800
Pairing: A/R
Disclaimer: Don't own them.
Summary: Laura and Bill discuss starvation--and the other time Laura went hungry. Angsty with a side of fluff.
A/N: This was written for fragrantwoods's prompt. Thanks for such a great prompt. :D
They sat in Bill’s quarters. Gaeta briefed them on the situation, doing his number crunching with efficiency that made Laura wonder sometimes. It wasn’t that she seriously thought he was a cylon, but it did cross her mind once or twice. Evidently, it didn’t matter anyway. After everything, the cylons, whoever they were, wouldn’t be responsible for the end of humanity--at least not directly.
After Gaeta offered his final statistic, Bill dismissed him. His words and tone the same as any other time she’d heard them--very routine. There wasn’t much to be done: Either they’d find another food source, or they wouldn’t. It all seemed very familiar. In the last three years, they’d lost their homes, run out of water, been chased to a mudball of a planet, and now their food was spoiling.
The meeting was over, but Laura didn’t feel like leaving. It was the end of the world, again, and she wanted to spend as much of it as she could with her best friend. So, she remained on the sofa with him, content to just sit. Bill seemed to be on her wavelength--he usually was after they got over their initial missteps and mistrust. He turned to her. “Did you ever think this was how we were gonna go out?”
Laura shook her head. “No, I can’t say that’s how I envisioned our end.”
He looked at her. She knew he was thinking of all the times they could have died, should have died. “I guess I’m talking to the wrong person.”
She smiled. She knew it didn’t reach her eyes, but it was the best she could do. “Probably so. It’s kind of funny, I survived the attacks, cancer, cylon occupation. Your brig--”
He snorted. “I wondered when you were gonna bring that up. It’s been, what, a few weeks?”
“Is it my fault you gave me the best weapon to win any argument?”
He looked down, and Laura would have sworn she heard him grunt. “After the first war ended, I didn’t expect to die a glorious death, but starvation?”
“You had higher hopes than that?”
He shook his head. “I don’t know about hopes, but I guess I would have liked to die in battle, if I could choose, or...”
“Or?”
“Forget it, it’s stupid.”
“Oh, no, Mister. Now you have to tell me. Consider it an order.”
“Humph. It’s been awhile since you’ve given me one of those.”
“Technically, I give you one every time I speak, but I don’t usually have to pull teeth to get you to comply.”
He shot her the Adama Glare. There was a time--the first week of their reluctant partnership--when she would have been intimidated by it. Now, she just found it endearing. She smiled, and his face broke into a grin, and he started laughing. “That never really worked on you, did it?”
She placed her hand on his arm. “Oh, Bill. There was a time--a brief one, mind you--when that worked on me. But then...”
“What?”
“I realized you’re a soft touch.”
He let out a grunt, which made Laura smile even more. “I’m not. I’m Admiral Adama. The hardass.”
She laughed. “Don’t worry, I think I’m the only one who knows your secret--and maybe Kara and Dee.”
“Not Lee?”
She shook her head. “I don’t think Lee can see it.”
Laura watched him retreat inside himself for a moment. “We’ve come a long way, but...”
She put her hand on his arm. “It’s not easy for a father and son. And, well, with you two...” She trailed off, sitting there. Then she remembered what they were talking about. “Hey! Don’t think you can get off that easy, Adama. I want to know what you were gonna say.”
“With you.”
“What?”
“I was gonna say ‘with you.’” She wasn't getting it, so he continued, “That’s how I’d wanna go, if I had the choice.”
“Oh.” She wasn’t expecting that. What they had wasn’t something they’d ever spoken about. It was a connection that occurred over time, and neither of them really had to work at it. It just happened. She smiled at him. “It seems like you’ll get your wish.”
She rested her head against his chest, and he put his arm around her, holding her to him. “This wouldn’t be the first time I starved,” she said.
“New Caprica?” He looked down at her.
She realized they’d never really spoken about what went on down there. When they did, it was always in the abstract. Costs, numbers erased from the whiteboard. The details that really mattered--Saul’s eye, Ellen, Kara, all the others--went unspoken. Laura shook her head. “I never starved down there.”
That was true. She hadn’t. Even the Cylons made sure she was fed when she was in detention. It was like they wanted her alive--if only to torture her through the others’ suffering. The food wasn’t great--and there was never quite enough of it, but she didn’t starve.
“No?” He looked at her. She could see the uncertainty there. He wanted to believe her--both because she’d spoken, and he liked to think she was honest, and because he wanted it to be true, needed it to be true.
She nodded. “There was food. Always. It wasn’t great. Wasn’t enough, but...”
He sighed his relief. She knew he was almost as sensitive about that place as she. It hurt him to know his people--his family--had been through so much, while he was powerless to help. She wasn’t sure which of them had it worse: Him being so far away, or her being so close. Somehow knowing she hadn’t starved down there restored the tenuous center of his being. She knew what that was about. He was the center of her calm too.
She moved her hand to his chest, patting it. “Wanna hear a story?”
“Sure.”
“I was in college--”
“Oh, it’s one of those stories.”
She smacked him. “You gonna interrupt me the whole time, Bill?!”
“Just doing what you do.”
“Is it my fault it takes you too long to tell a story?”
He grunted. “Continue.”
“Anyway, I was dating this guy. I thought he was the most sensitive soul in the world. He had an artist’s temperament. Principles, you know?”
“Not sure I like where this is going.”
“Oh, would you like me to stop?” She asked, knowing she had no intention of stopping.
He sighed. “No.”
“Anyway, I was young and thought he was the greatest. I should probably add I was a late bloomer and didn’t really come into my own until after I graduated from high school.”
“Oh, did my President have an awkward stage?”
She smacked him again. “If you’re going to poke fun, I’ll end my story right here.”
He stroked her face. “I just wish I’d known you then, is all.”
She ignored the difference of their ages and the impossibility of them having known each other for so long. It was a nice thought. What would their lives have been like if they met before war and death and loss? Would they have fought like they used to? Would they spend their evenings reading by the fire?
She smiled. “Yeah, I was awkward. And shy, can you imagine that?”
“But you were on the debate team.”
“My father thought that would help me get over my shyness. He always said, ‘Laura, no one will know how smart you are, or what good ideas you have, if you don’t speak for yourself.’ I never felt comfortable doing that, but I knew what he meant. So I joined the debate team, and I wasn’t so bad. After I got over my giggles, of course.”
“And then you grew up to become the President of the Twelve Colonies, the woman who frightens Cylons, terrorists, and Admirals alike.”
“Do I frighten you, Bill?” She looked up, surprised.
He smiled. “Sometimes. I think it’s your strength. I’ve never met anyone like you before. I don’t always know what to make of you.”
“Oh, well. Before that, I was a young college freshman dating a senior, and he was my first boyfriend ever, and I thought it was the coolest thing that he was older than me, and so smart and sophisticated.” She rolled her eyes. “My parents hated him, of course. But they never tried to break us up. They always encouraged me to learn my lessons. And my dad was happy for me. ‘That’s the point of dating, Laura. Learning about people and yourself.’” She laughed. “My dad always did have a point.”
“You really loved him.”
She nodded. “I really did.”
“I meant your father.”
She smiled. “I know. Me too.”
“What about the artist?”
She shook her head. “You know the story there, his ‘artist temperament’ meant he needed more than one girlfriend at once. So much for his fine principles.” Not that she was much better, as it turned out, but she never claimed to be--and she never committed to anyone.
“Ouch.”
“It was a long time ago.” She smiled. “Anyway, before I found about his ‘needs,’ we got involved in a protest for the crisis on Tauron.”
“Which one?”
There had been a lot before the Colonies formed under one government, one President. Of course, there were still problems on the various Colonies even in the days right before the attacks. 50 Billion people was a lot to manage. Laura knew she struggled with the 38,000 in her fleet.
“I don’t remember. Whatever one was going on 35 years ago.” She shook her head. It was surreal talking about this now. “Anyway, it was a hunger strike. I went a week without eating.” She smiled. “I’ve never gone more than a day since.”
He took her hand. “We’ll find something, Laura. We always do.”
“Yeah, we will. One of your pilots--probably Starbuck--will find a wonderful ice cream planet or something.”
He laughed. “That would be nice.” He gestured to the hatch. “Do you have to leave?”
She shook her head. “I think I’ll stay here tonight, if that’s okay. I can report our findings to the press tomorrow.”
“In that case, I think we should get ready for bed.”
She smiled. “I think that is an excellent idea.”
.
.
.
He held her so tight as she lay against his chest. She knew he was determined to die with her whenever that was going to be. Unless there was a miracle--another one, they’d be dying in days. But with her stomach full from their dinner (although she didn’t remember what it was) and her...Bill holding her, she didn’t see how that was possible. She fell asleep thinking about Starbuck and an ice cream planet--and hours with Bill eating sundae after sundae.