Chapter Text
New Caprica
Bill waved to the ground crew as he set out from the airfield, a sense of anticipation rising in the pit of his stomach as he allowed his mind to wander ahead to the meeting he had been looking forward to for some time now.
Apart from a few notes they had exchanged concerning supplies needed for the school, he had not had any contact with Laura since the night of the groundbreaking when they had both overindulged in the local smokable plant and homemade booze. Considering they had both still been under the influence at the time of his departure, he wasn't sure what to expect of their meeting now.
In fact, the note he had sent Laura two days before, informing her of his planned visit to the ground, had gone unanswered. This, however, Bill knew could be due to any number of reasons. Getting a word up to Galactica when you had no official position in the government apparently required some special maneuvering. Perhaps she had not deemed it worth the trouble this time, knowing they would see each other soon anyway.
She knew what time he was arriving and Bill could only hope she would be waiting for him in her tent since she had not met him at the airfield.
He didn’t want to consider other possibilities but, trudging forward along the muddy path that lead from the airfield to the tent city, Bill wondered if he could have misread Laura on the night of the groundbreaking. She had been openly flirtatious with him then for sure, but they had been inebriated for most of the day and night. What if she had only wanted to let loose and have fun that one time? Bill had no doubt that his visit would be welcome, but was he arriving with his expectations too high if he wished to start building something more profound after one drug fueled night under the stars?
He was certain that whatever seemed to flicker between them had to be mutual to at least some degree, but that didn’t necessarily mean that Laura was ready or even willing to take their admittedly complicated relationship to the next level. Gods knew that Bill had his own reservations, too, doubtful as it was that this peace would last forever, or that the people would be satisfied for long with the life this planet had to offer, but until then? Bill knew he would forever be kicking himself if he didn’t at least try, and he hoped that Laura had arrived to a similar conclusion during the weeks they had spent apart.
With his mind thus occupied, Bill had nearly made it to the section where he knew Laura's lodgings to be located, when suddenly he lost his train of thought and everything inside his head seemed to go haywire.
His vision blurred. It was not the transient blur that came from a stray speck of dust or an eyelash blown into his eye, but instead it felt like he was suddenly, inexplicably, exceedingly drunk.
Coming to an abrupt, wobbly stop, he pulled off his glasses and rubbed at his eyes with his fist, trying to clear them, already realizing it was futile. Something was wrong, very wrong. When he inhaled, the air seemed to liquify and become trapped in his lungs. The long scar bisecting his chest burned hot for the first time in nearly a year.
Laura. He just needed to get to Laura and she’d know what to do.
Glasses falling to the ground unnoticed, he took a heavy step forward, then another, and another. It was getting dark, which was odd because it was the middle of the day. Or was it? Was he late? No, no, he was going to see Laura; he would never be late for that.
He squinted into the shadowy twilight that had replaced the sunny afternoon. What was that up ahead? Was someone coming? Maybe it was Laura. He tried to take a step toward her, tried to raise his hand in greeting, but he couldn’t tell if his limbs actually responded to his commands. And now she was gone, like she had never been there at all. Perhaps she hadn’t been.
“No!” he tried to call out, but no sound emerged. “Come back!” His mouth wasn’t moving, but inside he shouted, shouted for Laura, for anyone, to come and help him.
Worn out from the effort of trying to speak, to move, to understand what was happening to him, the last of the Admiral’s strength expired, and he fell, first to his knees and then off to the side, his head connecting sharply with one of the large rocks lining the pathway. Luckily by then he was no longer capable of experiencing pain.
***
Some time passed before people began to gather around the Admiral's slumped body, nobody quite sure what should be done about a man apparently passed out drunk in the middle of the afternoon.
"Poor sod," someone muttered.
"Let him sleep it off," another voice joined the general murmur that seemed to be in agreement.
"They spend all that time up there with everything they could ever need and then come down here to ‘unwind’ like their life is so hard," a third disgruntled voice joined in even as the crowd began to break up.
"But isn't that...?" Yet another voice piped up after most of the others had already moved on. "Hey, Chief!" the same voice continued, calling for the former Senior Chief Petty Officer of Galactica who just then happened to be walking down an adjacent lane, separated from the scene by a row of tents.
Galen Tyrol paused, located the source of the voice, and then shuffled between a pair of tents to cross to the other side.
"What is it?" he asked, his eyes landing on the body lying on the ground. At the moment of recognition, he sprinted towards the body and kneeled down.
"Admiral," he breathed, turning the body so that he lay on his back. "Sir!" he raised his voice, slapping the cheek of his former commander. The Admiral did not even stir.
Galen looked up at the man who had stopped him.
"Get Cottle!" he yelled at him, pointing in the direction of the medical tent. "Now!"
***
Laura hummed softly to herself as she moved around her tent, tidying that which was already tidy in a vain attempt to calm her nerves. What is wrong with you? she asked herself when her stomach fluttered in anticipation every time her eyes fell on the small makeshift picnic basket set by the door flap. By the gods, Laura, it’s just Bill.
But there was no denying something had shifted between the two of them now that she was no longer the President. The last time he was here was…well it was mostly a blur if she was being honest, but while she couldn’t remember the details of what they talked about, she could definitely remember how it felt to be with him.
It had been so long since she experienced anything like it, that indescribable feeling of…well, of liking someone. It was a ridiculous turn of phrase for a middle aged woman to be using, but nothing more dignified came close to describing the heady combination of giddiness, desire, and affection she experienced that night under the stars with Bill.
But how much of it was real, and how much was chemically induced? That was what she hoped to figure out today. Bill was coming for a visit and she was going to take him up to the spot by the lake she told him about, the place she hoped to build someday, assuming this peace lasted long enough.
Exhaling noisily, she glanced at her watch and walked back to the other side of her tent, sitting down at her small table where a stack of Colonial History essays awaited her attention. She may as well get some work done while she was waiting. He was nearly half an hour late. Time was something of a fluid concept on New Caprica, but she would have thought Bill would be operating by the much stricter military clock. She hoped nothing was wrong.
For another half an hour Laura steadfastly tried to immerse herself in the students' essays, but her eyes were constantly drawn to her watch instead, her concern increasing with every passing minute. In all the time she had known Bill, the one thing she had always been able to rely on was his punctuality. Any delays, which for obvious reasons could not always be avoided, used to be reported to her with military precision.
But then, Laura sighed, she wasn't the President anymore. She wasn't even close to being the first person on the list to be informed if anything unexpected came up.
This is ridiculous, she told herself, dropping her pen with a little more force than necessary as she stood up again, finally abandoning the school work as a futile attempt at distraction.
What was it to her anyway if Bill did not come? A note would find its way to her eventually if it turned out he couldn't make it down as planned.
Glancing at the picnic basket that still lay by the door flap, Laura tried to ignore the nagging sensation that felt too much like disappointment as she considered the possibility that Bill would not come after all. He had his responsibilities and there was nothing she could do about it. Even if she did admit to disappointment, the cause was only natural: Bill was her friend and she had not seen him in weeks. Of course she had looked forward to seeing him now. There didn't need to be anything more to it. Another opportunity would arise and she would welcome him whenever he was able to come.
Even after having reasoned with herself, Laura could not help feeling that something else was off. Opening the flap of her tent, she peeked outside but could see nothing out of the ordinary. No sign of Bill, either.
Perhaps she could venture out in the direction of the airfield. If Bill had sent word of a delay, or had cancelled his arrival entirely, she might be able to find out about it from the ground control, depending on who was on watch. If, on the other hand, he was only arriving late, she could meet him halfway.
Satisfied with her plan, Laura set out from her tent. She had not even made it out of her section, however, when she found Cally Tyrol running towards her.
"Oh, thank the gods I found you, Madam Pres...Ms. Roslin," the younger woman panted as she came to a halt in front of the former President.
While Cally drew breaths, Laura could feel a sense of dread settling in her gut and she swallowed a lump in her throat before she spoke:
"Cally, what is it?" she asked, unable to keep a tremor from her voice. "What's the matter?"
Cally continued to wheeze, her hand pressed tightly to her chest and Laura was just about ready to shake the young woman when she finally answered the question.
“It’s the Admiral, ma’am,” she said, speaking the very words Laura feared she would. “Galen found him on the ground, unconscious, just over there.” Cally pointed vaguely behind her. “He’s in the medical tent now. Doc Cottle told me to find you and get you over there right away.”
Cally was still speaking, but Laura had already turned and started to run toward the medical tent. She only made it a few yards when she skidded to a sudden stop, hand flying up to cover her mouth. She pointed to the ground and turned back to Cally.
“Yeah,” the younger woman said, confirming her suspicions. “That’s where he was. I guess he hit his head.”
A large rock along the side of the path was stained with blood, enough of it that it seemed to have run in rivulets down the side of the rock and soaked into the surrounding dirt.
She whirled around, looking past Cally to her own tent, clearly visible, not twenty yards away.
Oh Bill.
But there were no time for what-ifs right now. The Admiral needed her.
She was about to take off again at a run when suddenly a glimmer of something half buried in the mud caught her eye. Bill's glasses. Covering her mouth to hide her gasp, Laura quickly stepped forward and picked them up, turning them over in her hands. She was satisfied after a brief survey that they were still intact. Unlike Bill.
Blinking rapidly for a moment, Laura wiped the glasses clean on the hem of her shirt and then sprinted off towards the medical tent.