Disclaimer: neither the show nor the characters belong to me, it's for personal creative enjoyment only, which is already a lot.
Some words before reading: it's not my first attempt at writing fanfiction but the last time I did it was in '08 and it wasn't a Battlestar Galactica fic, I watched Battlestar Galactica entirely only once, but I restarted it again, it's my favorite show by far. So it's my first attempt at a BSG fic. Let's say I had a dream.
I'm not a pro BSG (for now) so it's mostly my imagination and not necessarily fitting any storyline, but it's vaguely in season three so there are spoilers anyway.
It's an Adama/Roslin fic. Not rated, I think? No sex, a couple of cuss words. Nothing too wild imo. Hurt/comfort.
I was already robbed from my original writing, even if only partially, it's excruciatingly hard for me to share anything even if not original work, I wrote some poetry I shared but it's the first time since 2014 that I really share anything longer than a poem. It's a short story and I'm only posting the first part so far. It's in four parts. All already written.
I dread feedback but let's go.
English is not.my first language, thank you for your understanding and your patience.
She woke up with a start. She had it again. They all felt so prophetic but she never shied away, she wanted to know. Maybe save the humankind?
It was different with this one, this one hurt. Had she perceived something? Consciously, she couldn't remember anything. They had briefly met only a few times these past four weeks, but they both had been so busy. Maybe he was a little curt while their last encounter? Sure, he had to dash off, "duty calls". But no smile. She thought so at least.
She was sweating. She needed a shower. And a hot coffee before she would start another of her long presidential days. But as she walked to her office on Colonial One where Tory may already be working, did that girl ever sleep?
Lots of paperwork this morning, lots of dealing with regular issues of the last of humans lost in space.
She could avoid that feeling of dread as long as she lost herself in her current chores. Tory was perfectly competent to work on her own without interrupting. She was quiet at work and hardworking, particularly good with organizing paperwork in a readable and neat alphabetical system where it didn't take you long to find what you searched.
"here", she said handing her a cup of hot, delicious coffee, " poured one for myself, thought you might like one". Laura thanked her as she put the cup on her desk, far enough from the files she was working on. "You looked elsewhere", she said gently not too pushy.
Was I? She thought, that feeling of dread nagging at her. He was laughing at her with such burning cruelty. She shut her eyes involuntary and reopened them with a sigh.
"Thanks again for the coffee", she told Tory with a smile. Tory nodded and went back to her pile of files. If she had a thought of what had just happened she kept it to herself.
A couple of hours later, she had flown to the Galactica and found herself aimlessly wandering to his quarters. She had time to kill, uh, she thought of her own pun, before the time of her treatment. He had given her full pass to get in his quarters and told her to make herself at home anytime she boarded the Galactica, even when he wasn't there. Courtesy to Madame the president... Who was enduring rounds of chemo for her breast cancer relapse. But there had been more than this, he had come to read to her, and she enjoyed it. She let herself in. He wasn't in sight, no sounds from the bathroom either.
Like a hidden wave, she felt the loss of her late mother, her late father and her late sisters and she thought how much she had loved late Billy like a son and how much she missed him. Tears welled up in her eyes and she hugged herself, alone, in an office devoid of all humanity but her own. But she couldn't allow herself to flinch right now.
She was on her side on the hospital bed, knees halfway up her chest, waiting for the drops to fall, then travel up in the tube, through her veins, in her body, and do their damn job. She wished she could have fallen asleep during the process. She wished he was here reading to her, that they could talk. Several times she thought she had heard him come but it was only wishful thinking, it was always people visiting someone else or just passing by. He didn't show up and she felt herself sinking into herself a bit deeper.
Days passed on Colonial One. Dreamless days, monotonous days. Work, work, work. Reunions. Nobody's ever entirely happy with everything, if anything, even in good days. She tampers, proposes solutions, calm, tactful, it's her job. She tried not to think, or more not to overthink why she had no news from him. She had always been independent, never really quite attached. This time it really stung badly and it was hard to forget.
And it came back again, harsh, painful, like it had happened in real life. He hated her. She woke up really tired to notice it was only three in the morning. She tried to go back to sleep but couldn't find any. After almost one hour of tossing and turning, she decided to get up and get ready.
Her nights became nightmare. She was exhausted and would have to face another few rounds of her treatment very soon. She was terrified, she dreaded it, she would have wanted to tell someone but felt like there was no one to tell anymore. She felt like she would end up dying alone.
She went on doing her job, being there for her team whatever they needed from her, regardless of her own exhaustion, as gracefully as she could muster, showing nothing of her agony.
True, he had tried to call her several times but she didn't have the heart to tell him, so she stalled. She took him on the phone once for a rather brief and formal conversation. Her fault, probably.
Until that day. She had spent her treatment time alone. "He doesn't owe you to be there", she thought, " you can do it on your own". Yes, but she wanted him to be there, she wanted him to be there with her damnit!
She walked into his quarters, exhausted, nauseous, and feeling abandoned in the whole world. She stopped in her tracks. He was sitting behind his desk, writing. He didn't look up. He might not have heard her come in, her rational mind nagged at her. Like he had at night, the nagging. He was here, free, and he didn't bother to come to see her, read to her. She was about to turn around when...
"Laura, I'm glad to see you, I didn't hear you come in, I didn't know you'd be here today".
"Treatment", she said more dryly than she had intended to. She hugged herself.
"I'm so sorry, I would have come if I had known you were here", he said getting up and walking toward her, "you want some water?" He frowned and it startled her, " you look pale, maybe you should sit down", he added seizing her shoulders with his solid hands. She froze.
"I'm okay", she tried to say firmly but her voice was too low and weak to convince him, she knew it, so for only defense she looked away while he was still holding her shoulders in his strong hands and she couldn't say she really was a believer, but at that moment she prayed not to burst into tears.
"Laura", he said softly, " what happened?"
His voice was soft but was this a smile or a grimace stuck on his face?
She looked away again as her tears spilled like water off a bowl you'd repeatedly throw rocks into, and she started sobbing like a ten-year-old.
"Laura" , he said so gently, now genuinely worried, but wasn't there a hint of resentment at the back of his throat?
"Bill", she managed to utter, "let me go, please, let me go", her voice was so high and weak she cried even more.
He let go of her instantly and she almost ran off.
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