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Laura sits at her desk, head resting defeatedly on her hands. What a frakking mess this all has become.
Right on cue, Tory enters; Laura throws her professional mask on immediately.
“Admiral Adama is here to see you,” Tory tells her.
Laura sighs. “Of course he is. Fine. Send him in.”
Tory leaves and Bill enters a moment later. He takes the seat across from her. Her professional mask is still in tact, but Bill knows; he can see right through her, always has.
“I heard,” he says.
“Well of course you did. The male Vice President announces his decision to run in the election just after the female President criminalizes abortion. The entire fleet has heard, I’m sure.”
“Baltar is an idiot.”
“Yes he is. But it’s still concerning.”
Bill can see the fear in her eyes, the worry that somehow Baltar will land himself in control of the civilian government and put all their lives in even more danger. There are no right words here; he knows that. So instead, he reaches out a hand, resting it on the desk in front of her, palm face up. An offer, not a demand. It’s up to her to accept his comfort.
She looks down at his hand only for a moment before bringing her own to meet his, intertwining their fingers. She smiles at the contact, lets his touch soothe her. “I should have seen it coming.”
“It doesn’t matter now—”
“Of course it matters. I should have been prepared.”
“He won’t win. No one in their right mind would vote for him.”
“Don’t be naive, Bill. They elected him Vice President.”
“After you pushed for it.”
“And don’t I regret it now.”
Bill rubs idle patterns against the back of her hand, soothing as best he can. “It will all be okay.”
Laura laughs mirthlessly. “Don’t lie to me, Bill.” Then she sighs, leaning back in her chair and closing her eyes to give in to a moment of exhaustion.
Bill looks at her, their hands still entwined, and says, “You’re beautiful.”
Laura’s eyes snap open, giving him an incredulous look.
“You told me not to lie to you. I can’t tell you anything about the election, then; I don’t know what’s going to happen. So I told you a different truth.”
It takes her off guard, but she hides it well. His hand is still warm in hers, still the sweetest form of comfort she’s had in weeks.
They’ve been skirting around something between them for a while now, but neither of them have been quite so forward about it yet—other than that one time she’d made him Admiral and he’d kissed her in return. They’ve put off talking about it for so long, but maybe this is what she needs. She’s not dying anymore—thank the gods—and she can’t control the election, but she can have some say in this.
“What are we doing, Bill?”
“I thought we were talking.”
“You know what I mean.”
He gently squeezes her hand. “We’re surviving, Laura.”
“We’re both surviving with Dr. Baltar as well, yet neither of us has held his hand recently.”
Bill laughs at that. He looks at her like he did after that kiss, like he did every time he came to see her and found her almost too ill to function, like he did when she’d been dying and he’d been desperate for her to survive.
“Bill,” she says softly, tugging on gently on his hand, an invitation to come closer.
He takes it, coming to stand in front of her. One hand is still holding hers, and his other comes up to rest upon her cheek. He leans in, presses a kiss to her other cheek.
Laura sighs at the contact, brings her hand to rest against his on her face. She nods just slightly, eyes shining with hope and…something more.
Bill leans in again, presses his lips against hers.
She’s not weak or close to death this time, so she kisses back easily, allowing them both this reprieve.
When they part, Bill pulls her up from her chair and into his arms, wrapped in a warm embrace.
Laura clings to him, rests her head against his shoulder, and presses a gentle kiss against his neck.
“I’m here for you, Laura,” he says.
And she understands. There’s so much going on that this can’t come first, but maybe it doesn’t need an exact definition to still be the most stable thing either of them has. They’re both here, both caring for each other. Maybe that’s enough.
“Thank you, Bill,” she whispers, pulling him tighter against her.
Bill presses a kiss to her hair, rubs soothing patterns against her back.
She lets him hold her, holds him in return, and she knows then that this is enough to get them both through whatever comes next. They have each other; how lucky they are to have found that amidst the chaos.