BSG Fic: Rescue
Mar. 17th, 2008 09:15 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
andverygingerTitle: Rescue
Fandom: BSG
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Of course I don't own these. If I did? Well, I'm not sure I'd do a lot different really. But no, they're not mine. I just borrowed them for a while.
Summary: "It’s good to see you." He remembers using those very words, not so long ago. Her tone tells him she remembers, too. She has chosen her words very carefully, thought about this reunion. He has to admit he has, as well. (Adama/Roslin.)
Spoilers: Exodus, 1 & 2. Beginning of season 3, in general.
Notes: It all started with the voice in the darkness, and the movie Hatari. Then, in the span of about twenty minutes at work, I pounded this out. I finished it tonight, after I got home.
The style is a little different than what I would normally write, but this was what I saw, what I heard, and so here it is. Posted without beta, so any mistakes and problems you see now are my own.
***
A single lamp burns in a nearby corner as Bill Adama closes the hatch to his quarters, and leans against it with a sigh. The afternoon has been a busy one – especially when compared to the monotony of settlement: Civilians with no place to go; soldiers returning to post; extensive damage to his ship and a skeleton repair crew. As admiral, it was his task to direct traffic, to ally fears, and maintain the hope they felt now, immediately after the rescue. The effort is enough to exhaust even the most vibrant of his crew...and he realizes he is no longer a young man.
Reaching for the buttons on his uniform tunic, he heads for the small side table near his desk. The bottle of ambrosia is waiting there, just beyond the pool of welcoming light. There isn’t much left, he knows, but he’s earned his drink today.
His shirt is untucked by the time he reaches the table. As he moves to shrug the tunic off, he hears movement on the sofa behind him.
"Before you go any further, I think I should tell you that you’re not alone."
The voice in the darkness gives him only momentary pause...after which, he removes the uniform jacket anyway. It comes to rest against the back of his desk chair. Across the room, a soft yellow light suddenly fills what had been a void. The darkness rolled aside, he can now see Laura Roslin seated on his sofa. A wry smile curves his lips as he turns. "A few years ago, I might have taken that for an invitation."
Laura takes the drink he offers, her expression mirroring his own. "A few months ago, it would have been." Her gaze drifts downward, watching as she swirls the amber liquid around the glass. Slowly, she looks up. The smile is gone now, replaced by a more somber expression. "It’s good to see you."
There is a chuckle that escapes him before he can stop it. He remembers using those very words, not so long ago. Her tone tells him she remembers, too. She has chosen her words very carefully, thought about this reunion. He has to admit he has, as well...all throughout the afternoon.
"When I didn’t see you with the refugees..." Bill begins. He lowers himself onto the sofa beside her. "I was afraid you hadn’t made it." His attention is drawn to his own drink as he pauses. "But after Lee told me you had, I thought – maybe – I’d see you sooner."
Laura purses her lips and nods. "I thought – maybe – you would. But I had work to do; with Baltar running, and Tom -- well, Tom people were looking to me. I didn’t have time to take for myself. It seemed you were pretty busy, anyway."
"I was." Bill downed the last of his ambrosia. The glass settles on the coffee table with decision and he turns to her. "But I'll always make time for you."
The gruff voice – that rocky edge, where he can barely contain his emotions – tugs at her, and he can see her heart in her eyes. He has never been a man to wear his emotions on his sleeves; he’s been hurt before and it’s not an instance he wants to repeat. The admission present in his voice says a great deal more than the words.
It is a long moment before Laura can find her voice. She gapes, somewhat uncharacteristically, as a silent battle is waged between head and heart. They both know what will come in the weeks ahead: She will become President once again, and he will remain The Admiral. The comfort with each other they shared on New Caprica can't continue, not in the way it had flourished planetside. But it doesn't stop him from wanting it -- doesn't stop her from wanting it. "Bill --" she cautions.
He shakes his head. His fingers gently brush errant strands of hair from her eyes, his palm comes to rest against her cheek. She falls silent. A sad smile twitches across his lips and his brows flicker with the effort. "It's good to see you, too."
The once and future president gives a laugh, her voice full of nervous relief. She swallows. "I wasn't sure you'd make it back. I wasn't sure I'd live to see you come back."
"I wasn't leaving you there -- any of you."
"I know. Thank you."
Adama raises his brows. "Thank you?"
"For rescuing me."
He isn't fully surprised when she leans forward and touches her lips lightly to his. He is surprised, however, when, rather than opting for a repeat of their first kiss, he feels the full warmth of her lips as she draws out the contact.
In that moment, both realize that, regardless of power and position, what started on New Caprica cannot remain there; it, too, has been rescued from the planet surface.
And in another moment, the soft yellow light surrounding them is extinguished.
Fandom: BSG
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Of course I don't own these. If I did? Well, I'm not sure I'd do a lot different really. But no, they're not mine. I just borrowed them for a while.
Summary: "It’s good to see you." He remembers using those very words, not so long ago. Her tone tells him she remembers, too. She has chosen her words very carefully, thought about this reunion. He has to admit he has, as well. (Adama/Roslin.)
Spoilers: Exodus, 1 & 2. Beginning of season 3, in general.
Notes: It all started with the voice in the darkness, and the movie Hatari. Then, in the span of about twenty minutes at work, I pounded this out. I finished it tonight, after I got home.
The style is a little different than what I would normally write, but this was what I saw, what I heard, and so here it is. Posted without beta, so any mistakes and problems you see now are my own.
***
A single lamp burns in a nearby corner as Bill Adama closes the hatch to his quarters, and leans against it with a sigh. The afternoon has been a busy one – especially when compared to the monotony of settlement: Civilians with no place to go; soldiers returning to post; extensive damage to his ship and a skeleton repair crew. As admiral, it was his task to direct traffic, to ally fears, and maintain the hope they felt now, immediately after the rescue. The effort is enough to exhaust even the most vibrant of his crew...and he realizes he is no longer a young man.
Reaching for the buttons on his uniform tunic, he heads for the small side table near his desk. The bottle of ambrosia is waiting there, just beyond the pool of welcoming light. There isn’t much left, he knows, but he’s earned his drink today.
His shirt is untucked by the time he reaches the table. As he moves to shrug the tunic off, he hears movement on the sofa behind him.
"Before you go any further, I think I should tell you that you’re not alone."
The voice in the darkness gives him only momentary pause...after which, he removes the uniform jacket anyway. It comes to rest against the back of his desk chair. Across the room, a soft yellow light suddenly fills what had been a void. The darkness rolled aside, he can now see Laura Roslin seated on his sofa. A wry smile curves his lips as he turns. "A few years ago, I might have taken that for an invitation."
Laura takes the drink he offers, her expression mirroring his own. "A few months ago, it would have been." Her gaze drifts downward, watching as she swirls the amber liquid around the glass. Slowly, she looks up. The smile is gone now, replaced by a more somber expression. "It’s good to see you."
There is a chuckle that escapes him before he can stop it. He remembers using those very words, not so long ago. Her tone tells him she remembers, too. She has chosen her words very carefully, thought about this reunion. He has to admit he has, as well...all throughout the afternoon.
"When I didn’t see you with the refugees..." Bill begins. He lowers himself onto the sofa beside her. "I was afraid you hadn’t made it." His attention is drawn to his own drink as he pauses. "But after Lee told me you had, I thought – maybe – I’d see you sooner."
Laura purses her lips and nods. "I thought – maybe – you would. But I had work to do; with Baltar running, and Tom -- well, Tom people were looking to me. I didn’t have time to take for myself. It seemed you were pretty busy, anyway."
"I was." Bill downed the last of his ambrosia. The glass settles on the coffee table with decision and he turns to her. "But I'll always make time for you."
The gruff voice – that rocky edge, where he can barely contain his emotions – tugs at her, and he can see her heart in her eyes. He has never been a man to wear his emotions on his sleeves; he’s been hurt before and it’s not an instance he wants to repeat. The admission present in his voice says a great deal more than the words.
It is a long moment before Laura can find her voice. She gapes, somewhat uncharacteristically, as a silent battle is waged between head and heart. They both know what will come in the weeks ahead: She will become President once again, and he will remain The Admiral. The comfort with each other they shared on New Caprica can't continue, not in the way it had flourished planetside. But it doesn't stop him from wanting it -- doesn't stop her from wanting it. "Bill --" she cautions.
He shakes his head. His fingers gently brush errant strands of hair from her eyes, his palm comes to rest against her cheek. She falls silent. A sad smile twitches across his lips and his brows flicker with the effort. "It's good to see you, too."
The once and future president gives a laugh, her voice full of nervous relief. She swallows. "I wasn't sure you'd make it back. I wasn't sure I'd live to see you come back."
"I wasn't leaving you there -- any of you."
"I know. Thank you."
Adama raises his brows. "Thank you?"
"For rescuing me."
He isn't fully surprised when she leans forward and touches her lips lightly to his. He is surprised, however, when, rather than opting for a repeat of their first kiss, he feels the full warmth of her lips as she draws out the contact.
In that moment, both realize that, regardless of power and position, what started on New Caprica cannot remain there; it, too, has been rescued from the planet surface.
And in another moment, the soft yellow light surrounding them is extinguished.