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As far as Laura and Bill were concerned, they had been hiding their relationship quite well. It was relatively new, despite the feelings that had burned for years now. Since the birth of their new dynamic and its consummation during the Grounding ceremony, they had worked hard to maintain their professional reputation.
Luckily for them, the proximity of their working relationship made it so that the natural progression into their romance was easy to cover. Date nights could be disguised as work dinners and quality time was labelled in their schedules as an important meeting; they were not to be disturbed.
Months had gone by with a lack of suspicion from any of their peers, aside from the usual rumours and betting pools, though they weren’t aware of those; Kara had made sure of that.
Perhaps it was the lack of confrontation over their feelings that had caused Laura to let her guard down slightly, or maybe she just gave up trying to hide from the truth.
Bill and Laura were no strangers to crisis, fully accustomed to anticipating disaster and always keeping one eye open, but the past few weeks had been particularly awful for them all. The Cylon occupation of new caprica coupled with the rescue mission and the Cylon virus had caused Laura to neglect herself more than usual, unbeknownst to Bill, who was fighting his own demons disguised as guilt and responsibility.
It was during a journey to the CIC that Laura first felt her body grow weak. It was an early start, nothing new but certainly unwelcome. There was a mission in process that she had asked to be present for, which was the reason for her and Tory to be stalking the halls of the Galactica. Her aide had warned her against any further stress, having noted Laura skipping meals and sleeping less, trying to get a hold on the chaos that was left in Baltar’s wake. Her warnings were in vain, though; Laura was nothing if not stubborn.
Bill was standing in the centre of the room when she entered, staring up at the dradis monitor with his hands behind his back. His head had dropped down to look her in the eye and greet her, but it soon raised again as he focused on the present task.
Laura found herself regretting her self neglect when she found herself swaying ever so slightly, tensing her body in an effort to keep Bill or Saul from noticing her unsteadiness.
It succeeded for a short while, and it appeared Bill was oblivious to her illness, only glancing at her when she reached for the desk in front of her, gripping it to steady herself.
It was another tense 10 minutes before she went down. She had felt her vision begin to blacken, and forced herself to stay still until it passed, knowing that one movement would send her down. Despite her efforts, though, she found herself dropping to the floor anyway. In her last moment of consciousness, she reached out in a panic for the man she had come to love. Her head was spinning and her knees buckled as she tried to cling to him.
“Bill,” she mumbled, attempting to grasp at his arm but only fingering the fabric of his uniform as she dropped.
The weakness in her voice had his head whipping around to eye her, panicking freezing his body when he saw her go down. He had been too slow to catch her body as she thudded onto the metal floor, causing him to drop to his knees next to her.
“Laura,” Bill breathed out, instantly stepping out of his admiralty and into his relationship, coming to kneel at her side.
Tory was already planted next to her, hand on her head, as she whispered to her in an attempt to rouse her from her fainting spell. “Madam President, are you ok?”
Bill knelt on her other side, fingers ghosting the side of her cheek as if he could not allow himself the full pressure of his fingers against her skin.
The rest of the CIC stared in a mild confusion, torn by the mission they were required to work on and the drama unfolding in the room. It had been obvious that something had developed between their two leaders, and no one was particularly surprised by it, but certainly no one had expected the Admiral to be so overtly affectionate with his new love.
Saul in particular was baffled by the display; Bill had said nothing to him, and he couldn’t help but feel annoyed by that.
“Laura,” Bill grumbled, sitting on his knees next to her body on the floor, “can you hear me?”
He brushed a lock of auburn hair away from her pale face as she began to stir, groggily reaching up to link her hand with his that ghosted her face, smiling in a useless attempt to reassure him.
Tory had stepped back at this point, feeling out of place in the intimate yet public moment. She crossed the room to whisper to the colonel, who promptly ordered a return to work and swore everyone present to secrecy. There were more than just personal consequences to Laura’s actions.
Sighing with relief that the president was okay, Gaeta broke out in a smile, turning to Dee beside him. He was smiling widely but kept his voice deliberately low, “you owe me 50 bucks” he whispered, keeping his face neutral so as not to draw attention.
Dee rolled her eyes, “you called it.”
Bill helped Laura into a sitting position, pulling down her skirt where it had been pushed up slightly by her fall. She glanced anxiously around the room, at the many faces deliberately trying to appear busy, and she made eye contact with Bill, realising the consequences of their display.
He gave her a reassuring smile though, and held her hand to pull her to her feet when he was sure that she could stand.
He tucked her against his side and she wrapped an arm gingerly around him, avoiding eye contact with anyone she came across, “let’s get you to Cottle,” he mumbled to her.
“Colonel Tigh, you have command,” he called out, escorting her out and leaving behind a gaggle of snickers and wide eyes.
When the door was closed behind them she looked up at him sheepishly, laughing at his face, “Oh Gods, Bill, I screwed that up, didn’t I?” She giggled, leaning against him still. One hand was placed over his stomach and the other wrapped around him, holding herself close against him as they made their way through Galactica.
He smiled at her, finding it hard to find a part of him that cared about their cover being blown.
“It’s okay, Laura, you’re not well.” He squeezed her hip to punctuate his point.
“You’re not really taking me to Cottle, are you?” She bit her lip, staring up at him as he looked ahead at where they walked, slowly as she was still shaky.
He threw her a glance, “I should,”
“But you won’t” she beamed, knowing full well he’d rather take care of her himself.
He didn’t dignify her with a response this time, instead leading her silently in the direction of his quarters, glancing at her occasionally to make sure she was still okay to walk.
Anyone that they came across made an effort to hide their surprise at the intimate position of their two leaders walking together, Laura tucked under his arm and leaning against him for support, a curt “madam president” being thrown her way as they scurried past, unsure of what to make of the sight.
When they arrived at his quarters Bill dismissed her guards and led her inside, still holding her against him despite her protests that she was fine. He knew otherwise, of course, and was growing impatient with her stubbornness, despite how much he loved her for it.
“Laura,” Bill sighed, taking his glasses off to rub his face, “we made a deal.”
He crossed the room to come and sit next to where she had wandered over while he shut the hatch, sitting forward on the sofa while she had laid back against it, eyes closed and legs tucked under herself.
“I know,” she replied in a near whisper, opening one eye slightly to watch him, trying to gauge his guarded emotions.
He turned back to her, feeling her eye on him, and smiled softly, “you’re lucky I didn’t take you to Cottle,” he warned playfully.
She smiled wryly, “Been there, done that,” as she shuffled closer to lean against his shoulder, lifting up his arm so that she could tuck herself under it; he let her.
He pulled them to lay back on the leather of the sofa, her curled half onto his lap and him sitting upright, one arm tucked around her and the other nervously toying with a thread of his trousers.
“I know I scared you,” she whispered, nuzzling his neck and placing a kiss there, “I’m sorry,” she tried to reassure him, but could see from the tension in his jaw that her words had done little to soothe him.
Despite their often conflicting ideas and opinions, the main thing Bill and Laura shared was their devotion in spite of themselves. Laura frequently worked herself to the bone, too stressed to sleep or eat, and Bill had just got himself beaten up through guilt over the new Caprica business.
Remembering how worried she had been watching him bleed on the floor of the boxing ring caused her stomach to clench, and she felt awful for putting him through something similar now. And not for the first time, either.
Bill stayed quiet in the warmth of his quarters, holding her close as if he needed a reminder of the heart that beat in her chest. She allowed it until she grew fidgety.
She withdrew from his arms, placed a kiss on his cheek, and wandered through into the head, “I’m going to freshen up for bed.”
They had been doing this dance for long enough that his quarters had become hers, a small home for the two of them to share in the heart of the place they had met, and his chest warmed every time a new belonging of hers appeared there, despite the secrecy of their relationship.
Laura busied herself in the bathroom, leaving Bill behind. He was inclined to follow her, but had other plans for the moment.
She wandered slowly around the head, careful not to cause any more bad spells, as she washed her face and brushed her teeth. Once she had brushed her hair and changed into comfy clothes she emerged, cocking her head when she saw Bill standing talking on the phone.
Her bare feet padded across the room, sitting on the sofa with a glass of water, eyeing him while he stared into her, responding to whoever was on the other end of the line.
It didn’t take long for her to realise who it was that Bill was talking to, causing her to roll her eyes and throw her head back on the sofa, trying to appreciate his concern instead of being annoyed at his lack of trust in her.
Bill hummed into the phone, slowly taking his eyes off her and turning back towards the wall where he stood, “thank you, doctor, I’ll implement that,” he said, hanging up the phone quietly and pausing for a moment before turning around.
“I thought you weren’t involving Cottle,” she smiled darkly at him, ensuring he could see her annoyance.
He poured himself a glass of water, not looking up at her when he responded, “I said I wouldn’t take you to sick bay, not that I wouldn’t involve him,”
She nodded her head, smiling, “got me there,” she hummed.
He came to sit next to her, facing her this time, and she cocked her head. She expected a slight overreaction from him but the seriousness on his face startled her slightly.
“Laura,” he started, voice gruff, “I need you to take better care of yourself,” he took a slow sip of his water, looking at her over his glass as she cleared her throat.
“Bill, I’ve been taking care of myself for a long time now,” she explained, “you have to understand how unnatural it is for me to lean on you,”
He nodded, understanding. He had been solitary too for so long that they had often exchanged sharp words over his independence and his forgetting to rely on her the way he asked her to.
“You fainted in the CIC, I’m not being dramatic,” he grumbled, leaning forward to place his glass down so he could drop a hand to her calf, massaging the skin that emerged from the bottom of the trousers she wore over her curled legs.
She hummed, “that I didn’t plan for, no,” she smiled, leaning her head in an attempt to catch his eyes, but he stayed looking down, haunted by the vision of his Laura laying on the cold metal floor.
It was unnerving, if he was honest with himself. Bill was used to living in a constant state of alert, losing members of his crew much more often than he could bear, always waiting for the ball to drop on whatever peace he managed to grasp. This time, though, a new kind of anxiety had settled into his stomach.
The lead weight that caused a dull ache in his body told him all that he needed to know about Laura Roslin; that he loved her.
He stood silently from where he sat, stripping down to his vests and holding out a hand for her to join him in standing. When she rose to her feet they walked silently to his rack and Laura crawled over the narrow bed, curling back against the wall so she could turn to watch him.
He leaned forward to press a lingering kiss to her forehead, a reassurance that he was okay with her, despite his obvious irritation, “be right back,”
She smiled warmly in response, watching him through the doorway as she caught glimpses of him shaving his beard and brushing his teeth. Despite there being a few hours left of the day, he was making the conscious choice to stay here with her, despite the burden of responsibility he felt, and her heart fluttered at the fact.
When he was ready for bed he crossed the room silently, pulling the sheets back to join Laura under the thin fabric. He lay on his back and immediately drew her near, pressing kisses along her hairline as she hummed in contentment, relishing in the comfort of his arms after an unpleasant day.
“We’re not done talking,” he whispered, causing her to groan in response.
“I’ll make you a deal,” she responded, moving to prop herself up on her elbow so she could look him in the eye, “I’ll take better care of myself the minute you stop torturing yourself,” she countered, watching him consider her proposal quietly.
He went to speak, but it appeared Laura wasn’t done.
“I’m not watching you get beat half to death again because of your guilt, Bill. The same way I’m sure you don’t want to watch me faint again.”
She was right, of course, and he found himself nodding quietly, pulling her back down to lay against him.
His guilt would continue to eat at him, but perhaps he could wear it a little more quietly if it meant Laura would look after herself. Where he before wore it like a badge similar to that of his admiralty, it would thread around his ribs, causing him to ache just the same but allowing him to protect it from the watchful eye of Laura Roslin.
She knew that, though. Of course she did. Of all the books they had shared during their time together, she could read him the best.
While she lay there in the darkness, listening to the thrumming of his heart under her ear, she vowed to unwind it from where it choked him, constricting his breathing.
She would toss it away and leave it to rest along with her own self neglect.