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1
Laura watched her newly reconciled ally as he slept. For someone so clearly steeped in tradition and a near mythic code of ethics and honor, Bill Adama had proven himself capable of change. That fact alone surprised Laura more than anything else she’d encountered over the past few weeks. She wanted to enjoy this little moment of respite, the amicable detente he’d arranged for them under this leaky tarp, but her desire to uncover the secrets of Kobol made her antsy. She was on the verge of waking him but the Commander’s peaceful rest gave her pause. The man had barely escaped death, surely he deserved to sleep past sunrise.
As the first rays of light ventured into their tent however, it was clear his rest was hardly as peaceful as she first thought. Laura watched as the Commander’s rough features contorted, a nightmare perhaps. He clutched at his chest as a beastly growl emerged, barely muffled by his clenched jaw. Laura’s eyes darted around the camp to see if anyone else had noticed. They were partners if nothing else and Laura felt a sudden tug in her own chest as she immediately moved to conceal this show of weakness from the rest of the team. She knew a thing or two about hiding weakness from those who reported to her, looked up to her.
“Bill,” she whispered, moving closer as she tried out this new sign of familiarity, the single syllable feeling strange on her lips. He groaned but did not wake.
Laura placed a hand on his arm but quickly pulled it away; even with a barely sutured chest this man could inflict incredible damage and it was probably unwise to startle him.
“ Bill .”
Laura glanced around at the now stirring camp, more anxious now to wake him before Lee or Starbuck could worry or - gods forbid - Zarek and his cronies sense something amiss.
Laura moved her head closer and spoke in a low but firm tone, “Commander.”
He woke with a small start, eyes slightly wild before quickly reaching lucidity.
“Madam President?”
His voice was strained. Laura gave a wry smile and discreetly shook the small bottle she’d pulled from his side pocket. The one he’d turned to the night before, but only after the rest of the crew had left them.
“Your meds, Commander.” She saw his eyes dart around to the camp that was now coming alive. They shared a knowing look before she opened the bottle and tipped some capsules into his waiting palm.
“Thanks," he said and nodded towards the pills. meaning more than the pills.
Laura gave him a wry smile.
“Don’t mention it.”
2
She wanted to let him rest. She wanted to curl up beside him. She wanted to wake him up but keep him in the rack. She wanted a lot of things, things that were easier to deny herself when the Admiral was awake to remind her with his calm, steady regard that denial was the way that they led. They deny themselves, they deny each other, the fleet survives another day.
Laura allowed herself a brief moment to watch Bill’s sleeping form before clearing her throat.
“Admiral.”
Bill’s eyes opened immediately and Laura felt pinned by his gaze. A brief moment of confusion, then tenderness - holding her in place with the softness - before the Admiral’s facade slid smoothly into place.
“Madam President, forgive me,” he said, clearing his throat as he pulled himself out of the rack. “I’m afraid I lost track of time. I hope I’m not late for our meeting.”
“Not at all, Admiral,” she replied, her carefully modulated presidential tone reassuring, distant, polite. “I could never begrudge you a few minute’s delay. I know how hard it is to find a moment to rest.”
They exchanged the bland, commiserating smile they had perfected in the early days of their partnership and Laura pushed back the wanting as she watched Bill quickly do up the buttons on his uniform jacket and slip on his shoes. And just as quickly the President and the Admiral slipped back into their ordained roles.
3
Laura had intended for them to wind up in her tent, squeezed onto her tiny cot. But the stars had been so bright and the weed too good. It felt right in the moment just to stay where they were and hold each other in the starlight. It felt less right this morning as Laura’s hips screamed at the prolonged contact with the hard ground. She had at least enjoyed the benefit of Bill’s broad chest to shield her from the worst of it, but she knew Bill would be feeling the hard ground and sandbags, nevermind the smoke and alcohol induced hangover. They weren’t kids anymore.
Bill looked content; she almost hated to wake him and alert him to the inevitable pain. But the rest of the settlement was beginning to stir and she knew they’d both regret being caught as they were.
“Bill,” she said, leaning down to whisper in his ear. She let her wild curls fall across his face, shielding him from the rising sun. Bill twitched at the tickling strands and blinked awake, taking a moment to orient himself. He pressed a quick kiss to Laura’s jaw before she moved away, giggling softly.
Bill’s lips twitched into a near smile before they formed a grimace.
“What the frak did we smoke last night?”
Laura shook her head and helped pull him to a sitting position.
“I’m afraid we can’t blame it all on the weed, Bill,” she told him. “We’re a little too old to be sleeping on sandbags.”
Bill grunted then took a moment to look at Laura, admiring the way her unruly hair fell across her shoulders and practically glowed in the sunlight.
“Seemed like a good idea at the time.”
Laura hummed and offered him her hand so they could help each other stand. They stood close and smiled softly at each other, savoring the moment, then seemingly as one began to pull themselves together. They smoothed their rumpled clothes, finger combed hair, and dusted away the sand, - alluvial deposits, Bill had corrected her - returning to a semblance of their usual selves before heading back toward the main camp.
4
Bill had fallen asleep again. It wasn’t good for him slumped down in the stiff chair as he was, chin resting on his chest. He’d feel like hell if he stayed like that much longer, though it was nice to just watch him for a bit. He didn’t seem so sad when he slept.
Cottle rolled his eyes at Laura but he stayed quiet as he moved around her bed, freeing her from the tubes that trapped her there, tacitly agreeing with her sharp look to let the Admiral get a little rest. Eventually Laura could put it off no longer. She was so weak after her treatments that she couldn’t do this without him.
Laura reached out, and her frail fingers had barely ghosted across his sleeve when Bill jerked awake. His eyes were full of guilt at drifting off while here with her, but Laura just gave him a little smile and extended her hand. Silently they began the ritual of putting the president back together again.
5
Laura woke smiling, feeling the pleasant weight of Bill’s arm slung across her waist anchoring her to the rack, to him. This wasn’t the first time she’d woken up next to Bill and yet this time was nothing like the others. Had Bill snored so much on New Caprica? Or had she just been too stoned to notice at the time? Laura laughed a little to herself.
Bill was due in the CIC soon she knew and she intended to make the most of the time they had left. Laura snuggled herself back a bit, feeling Bill’s body respond. She smiled to herself.
“Mmm, good morning Admiral.” Laura’s voice was warm and rich with laughter.
Bill huffed a laugh onto her bare shoulder and pulled her closer.
+1
Laura watched Bill sleep in the rough cabin he’d built. She watched his chest, less bulk and more wiry thinness, rise and fall. It wouldn’t be long now. She knew she could wake him, let him see her, but she could wait a little longer. She perched on the edge of the makeshift bed and looked around the cabin, admiring the final promise he’d kept, this promise he’d made just to her.
Here at the end of it all there was no one to judge them, to miss them, to need them. And though his body was failing now, all that pain would be gone when he awoke. She could wait.