Chamalla and Ambrosia Part One
This is a new fic but not quite finished yet. Almost done, should have the next parts online tonight or tomorrow.
Chamalla and Ambrosia
Part One
Rating: Totally suitable for anyone who watches BSG.
Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters...DRATS!
"It's the Chamalla, Bill, it just tastes..." she gulped back the small wave of sickness that rose up from her toes to the top of her head and back again as a ripple down her spine, causing her to shiver "It just tastes terrible...with tea..."
She leant against him and instinctively his arm reached out to steady her. It wasn’t the usual touch that she was used to, this wasn’t touching at all, this was holding. She recalled once before when he had been there to steady her, one arm securely under hers, keeping her upright and focused when the world was a blur. This wasn’t the same. This time he was closer, his body firmly pressed against hers as he held her, supporting her completely and keeping her moving. His gentle but solid grip supported her at her right arm but the left, that was supported by his other arm wrapped around her back, not restrictive, just propelling her onwards with gentle support, a physical example of their actual relationship.
They had changed over the years, it was true, but for some reason she couldn't help but attribute his new found care for her to be something that made her uneasy, something she didn't like to admit though it ran through her mind like a sharp knife she couldn’t halt *it's worse this time...I’m slipping…we both know it*
Backwards and forwards, turn, backwards and forwards, turn, backwards and forwards, turn...
"Bill..." She felt the blood fall from her face, leaving her paler than before, almost translucent. *Like a ghost* she thought to herself with a hint of desperation. Her skin had taken on that pallor before now but she chose never to approach a mirror when she suspected she might look so pale and sick. It didn’t do her any good to see her fears confirmed. "All this turning is making me feel sick..."
He was staring at her as if she wasn't there, his eyes glazed a little as if he were looking straight through her. Trance like, the only sign of life was the rhythmic beating of his heart, so strong she could feel it through her clothes, through his as if no barrier was between them. A distinct thudding that told her he was alive and she might be as well.
They didn't stop. Backwards and forwards, turn. Backwards and forwards, turn.
"Walk it off, Laura. Just a bit longer. Trust me on this, walking helps.” If anything his pace increased a little “The last thing you want to do is put your head down."
She felt him begin to support her weight a little more with each turn. She was tired and her legs were beginning to betray her. Her head felt heavy, her neck in protest at its long-standing burden began to protest under the weight and her shoulders slumped a little.
Her suits were few and far between but those she had were always immaculate and somehow, through everything, they remained so. With the exception of one unfortunate jacket, each and every suit remained perfectly presentable and no matter what time of day it was, they retained a freshly pressed look which she found, like so many other little things, helped in keeping her feeling just as refreshed. Now, now where he supported her and her body was straining to keep herself upright, she felt the suit crinkle, crinkle in all the wrong places. Along her arms, ripples of material that should be straight. At her sides the jacket pulled a little where he held her, causing it to be just a fraction shorter, revealing only millimetres of the shirt beneath but somehow all of this, each little ripple and crease, made her feel so terribly defeated.
"I'm tired Bill, just an hour or two and I'll be fine..."
She wanted to slow down. Strike that. She wanted to stop. Just to be still, without her head feeling like something inside was spinning around and around and around with the room and the walls and ceiling and her eyes and…surely he didn't expect her to walk up and down his quarters all night?
"No, the last thing you need is to go to sleep. It'll just rest in your stomach until you wake up and then you'll know about it. Come on Laura, keep walking" He pushed at her elbows slightly, forcing her to move forward, just a little but enough to get her going again.
"But Bill...I..." She couldn’t find the words, or the strength to search for them in her worn out mind. Somehow she felt distant and removed. It was a blessing compared to the shrill pain that had recently been piercing her stiffened body, but still a dull ache remained; somewhere in the distance just out of reach she felt the haunting twinges of pain lingering. She hadn’t expected that. She hadn’t expected anything as she’d started slowly drinking down the many glasses that, truth be told, had slid down so easily, each slow sip taking her deeper and further from what she knew. Still, even now, the reality of it all haunted her like the remnants of a bad dream. If only it were a dream.
Backwards and forwards, turn, backwards and forwards, turn, backwards and forwards, turn...
"I'm sorry..." The words were out of her mouth before she knew she’d spoken and it wasn’t until she felt the room begin to right itself that she realised they’d stopped walking and they were stood motionless in the middle of the room.
“What?”
His voice was hushed, as if the room were full of people but his words were meant for her, only for her. Now they were stood, perfectly still, side by side in an empty room, close enough that he could feel her breathing raggedly in and out. One deep breath and she spoke again in a rush of air escaping her tired lungs.
“I’m sorry….” She repeated. Her eyes were beginning to sting, just the slightest. A gentle move and his arm wrapped a little tighter around her as he freed his hand from beneath her elbow, reaching up gently, brushing away the wetness that lined her cheek.
“Laura…” Her eyes widened in silent shock, a quivering hand reaching up to trace the path his had taken. Finally she lowered her hand, looking at it with silent accusation. Tears. Tears were falling like the enemy, her body betraying her in yet one more way.
“I’m sorry…” She blinked, trying to force the tears back “I’m sorry…for all of…” her breath caught as a brief moment of dizziness washed over her and she realised that tomorrow, tomorrow she would feel much much worse, but now, tonight, now she was feeling more than a little honest “…I’m sorry” she closed her eyes softly, leaning in to him a little more “I’m sorry I drank one of your last bottles of ambrosia…”
She sniffed a little, feeling the tears fall despite herself. Laura Roslin. President Laura Roslin. President Laura Roslin of the Twelve Colonies. President Laura Roslin of the Twelve Colonies of Kobol was crying. Laura was crying.
“Laura…” With gentle ease he turned toward her, turning her in his arms at the same time so that finally they were almost face-to-face as her eyes fluttered open again.
“Laura…” Her breath caught. His voice was hoarse, gravelly with a hint of something she recognised, something dangerous yet, and it hit her now with quiet realisation, not totally unwelcome. Her lips parted, her breath was suddenly shallow and then…
“Laura” He began again
“That wasn’t one of my last bottles of ambrosia…”
She looked at him curiously.
“That was the LAST of my bottles of ambrosia.”
Her mouth widened slightly into an ‘o’ of acknowledgment, an apologetic look crossing her features. But he was smiling. He was smiling and in spite of herself she was smiling as well.
“Oh Frak Bill…” And quite unexpectedly she began to laugh, her body shaking not with pain but finally with something much lighter, much more welcome.
“Oh Bill…I’m sorry.” She knew she should feel guilty but she couldn’t help it and could only speak through the small bouts of laughter “At least it wasn’t the last bottle of ambrosia ever…there has to be one left in the fleet somewhere” her laughter was lighter now, easier, more comfortable as her smile widened “it just…might take a bit of finding...”
Her head tilted, her eyes twinkled through the slight haze that still surrounded her. The walking had helped, slowly she had fought, or rather been pushed, through the initial haze.
“What am I gonna do with you, Laura Frakkin’ Roslin”
Shrugging, she let the question fall away. Though she had a few choice suggestions, she kept them to herself. Feeling him close at her side, unexpectedly she reached up, gently her hand tracing the side of his face as his eyes closed and for the first time she found herself admiring the man in front of her with unashamed interest. Slowly she guided his face down so that his cheek gently brushed against hers as he moved to slowly wrap his arms fully around body, enveloping her in warmth, which she leant back into gratefully.
He stood behind her now, beside her and around her, his body as close to hers as it could be, moulding itself to her as she leant her head ever so slightly to the side, his lips brushing the place where her shirt finished and her skin began. Tracing soft gently kisses along the side of her neck, turning her head and for a moment they stood, silently looking at each other as they had done so many times before, before his lips finally met hers.
When they parted she took a slow deep breath in and let it go just as slowly, he was supporting her again, it felt right and there was a hint of something tingling through her body in gentle waves. Contentment. Her eyes were closed again and she smiled, gently.
“Oh Bill, why do you always wait until I’m like this before you make your move?”
When she opened her eyes she found his smile had faded to be replaced with a look she hadn’t expected. Far from amusement, there was sadness, simple sadness.
“Bill…” Her hand reached slowly up, realising all too late that her words had been perhaps a little too much for him at that moment. Tracing the line of his jaw once again, a sad smile crossed her lips.
“Bill…I’m still here” It was all she could offer him, all she could give. She couldn’t promise any more than that. The future was something she couldn’t see and although she knew the possibilities, she couldn’t tell what might finally come to pass. For now, the only solid thing was the present and suddenly it didn’t seem such a bad place.
“I know…” He said finally, the sadness dimming enough so that a gentle look of appreciation showed through as he scanned her features, committing them to memory as he had done so many times before “…and I wouldn’t want you anywhere else” he added resolutely.
Her hands reached down to his, pulling him a little bit tighter around her.
“That’s good, because I think I might be drunk” She laughed a little “and I don’t want the guards seeing me try to get back to Colonial One like this.”
A rumble of laughter vibrated through his chest and across her back.
“Oh really?”
She nodded, breathing deeply, taking in the scent of him, the scent that she savoured when around him. The scent of his soap, his uniform, his books, all of it seeped deep into his skin, leaving him with a scent unique to him, a scent she even dreamt about on nights when her dreams were free from Cylons and Chamalla induced visions.
“Not that I want you to think I’m using you, mind you, but you did say there was always a bed for me here...”
His hold on her once again tightened, just a fraction.
“And you don’t mind that your guards will wonder where you’ve gotten to? That your transport back to Colonial One will have to be cancelled? That pretty much everyone on Galactica will wonder what we’ve been up to in here?”
At that she turned carefully in his arms and looked deeply into his eyes before speaking.
“Admiral Adama.” She mustered up the most Presidential tone she could fine “Ask any one of your crew and you will find that pretty much the entire fleet thinks we’ve been frakking since day one” It was true, the sheer amount of ambrosia she had consumed that night had made her feel more than a little honest and at his look of surprise she continued “I don’t think they’ll think too much about me spending one more night in your quarters. Besides, I’ve stayed the night before” she added.
“Yes, but nothing happened back then.” It was her turn to look surprised now.
“Back then?” She questioned with amusement, teasing and enjoying every moment of it “So…tonight…is different?”
Slowly his grip on her loosened and with the loss of support her legs gave way with the sudden return of their burden. Her eyes slammed shut but when she didn’t feel the jolt of her body hitting the floor, she realised that he had once again taken hold of her arms.
“Laura. You can’t even hold yourself up. I think the best place for you is bed”
“For some much needed rest.” He added quickly upon seeing her amused grin.
Her eyes narrowed a little.
“Very well Admiral, I guess I’ll just take you up on that spare bed of yo…” without warning she was swept up, off her feet and resting in his strong arms as he strode across his quarters towards his sleeping area.
“Bill! What the…”
He reached down, pulling back the covers as he laid her gently down on top of the bed.
“Laura, if you didn’t want me to spend the entire night watching over you, you shouldn’t have mixed your Chamalla with my ambrosia, and I’m not sitting in a chair watching over you in that guest bed all night. I prefer my own bed” He nodded as if to prove a point “it’s bigger.” She held back the smart comment regarding men and their obsession with size, deciding that he was actually quite right, having now lain on both beds; this one was a bit bigger and certainly more comfortable.
At that he carefully eased the jacket off her shoulders, lifting her arms slightly to pull it free from her body before shaking it out and leaving the sleeping area to set it on a chair. When he returned he was surprised to find her carefully undoing each button on her shirt.
“Laura…”
She didn’t look away from the slow progress she was making.
“Bill, I’m not sleeping in my shirt. It’ll get even more creased than it already is. I’d rather not have to walk back to my transport tomorrow looking like I’ve spent the night rolling around in my clo…FRAK!”
She stopped unbuttoning her shirt and shook her head
“I haven’t cancelled my transport back to Colonial One! The guards are still waiting outside!”
He didn’t respond but merely opened the draw nearest to him, pulling out a long shirt and shaking it out, checking it over before he handed it to her. As he did so he reached across her, taking hold of the pyjamas that lay neatly folded on the opposite side of the bed.
“I sent them away.”
She frowned a little, confused.
“When did you do that?”
He shrugged; quietly amused that he could still surprise her. Taking the pyjamas and leaving the room for his private bathroom, he began to quickly change out of his clothes, their conversation carrying on as he undressed.
“When I walked in and found you sat on my floor with an empty bottle of ambrosia. Just be glad I didn’t call Cottle otherwise you’d be spending a delightful night under his watchful eye…” At that he returned to the room, dressed for bed “...instead of mine” he beamed.
He noted the shirt she now wore, that shirt, his shirt. Her own clothes lay neatly folded on the table next to her side of the bed. *Her side of the bed* He thought to himself with some amusement. Who would have thought he would have given up half of his bed so easily
“So…care to tell me why you thought you could drink my last bottle of ambrosia?” He questioned her as he pulled the covers open and sat himself down on the bed, lifting his legs under the covers and positioning himself so that his hand propped up his head, looking across at her.
“I…you were late for our meeting and…I didn’t have any tea and…” She realised all too soon that her excuses weren’t getting her anywhere. “Chamalla tastes terrible with tea” she concluded as she slid herself down the bed, holding on to the shirt to stop it from riding up.
“So you thought it would taste better with ambrosia?”
Her eyes were already closing, her head resting comfortably on the pillow, which she had to admit, was much softer than she had expected for an admirals bed.
“Mmm…” was her only response, the ambrosia beginning to lull her into sleep.
“So…did it taste better?”
Even through her sudden desire to sleep, she smiled.
“Mmm, much.”
He nodded, though she couldn’t see him. Then gently he eased himself down the bed, laying on his side so that even as she drifted off to sleep he could watch over her.
“Good. Because tomorrow, Madam President, you are going to have to hunt me down a replacement.”
Part two this way...