Word Count:2,068
Date: 10/29/04
Series: One
Rating: M
Category: Relationships
Pairing/Focus: William, Laura
Warnings:
Summary:
Spoilers/Disclaimers:
She's sleeping when I enter our quarters. I haven't seen her since before the attack. It has been one hell of a few days for all of us. After slightly over a year of silence, the Cylons had found us again.
Initially, following our escape from Ragnar, many hailed me as the next Holy Lord. But human memory is short, and during the intervening months since the escape, our government and many civilians have been calling me other names, and those names don't include the word Holy in them. No one could see the need for continuing the mandates I implemented after Ragnar. I had ordered that all fleet ships must at all times have an FTL navigator and pilot on their bridges and maintain an open com link to the Galactica so they can FTL at a moment's notice. You're not going to get much more time than that with the Cylons. So once again I became a relic, an idiot out yelling in the desert about the end of the world. But two days ago the Cylons proved me right again. I'm beginning to hate being right.
Two Cylon basestars FTLed near our fleet and immediately sent out fighters and bombs. Fortunately, we were prepared and were able to launch all our vipers while the Galactica provided cover fire until the fleet could FTL away. We lost a few more good pilots and crewmembers in the struggle. I say a prayer of thanks to the Holy Lords that both Kara and Lee returned safely.
I still feel the rush of adrenaline and can't seem to calm down. So I leave her sleeping as I take a shower then climb into bed naked, not bothering to slip into sleep clothes. She is warm beside me and doesn't stir. I know she has been busy with casualties; her reports were part of the usual background noise in CIC during the Cylon attack. Even in bed my mind doesn't quiet and I'm restless. So I watch her sleep. Her face seems vulnerable without the usual mask she wears.
I touch her and she makes a small sound, automatically moving closer in her sleep. My arms slide around her and I pull her tight against me. My hands wander under her shirt and over the bare skin of her back. Her skin is soft and supple under my fingers, a pleasure to touch. One of my fingers traces her spine and she shivers under my touch. I ease her over a little and slowly lift her shirt so my hands and mouth can wander over the exposed flesh. I can feel her response to my ministrations, and I slowly remove her shirt, letting my body keep her warm. Gently I turn her head, blowing into her ear, and then kissing her neck and jaw. She moves her legs and presses herself against me as a soft moan leaves her lips.
I trail kisses down her neck, while my hands are busy elsewhere. I take a minute to remove her sleep pants, and quickly pull the covers up again. Now she's naked beside me. My hands have wandered down her back but now go lower to the soft skin of her buttocks before moving forward to that hot damp place between her legs. In response, she moans again and presses harder against me. I let my fingers touch her, all the while continuing to kiss her.
A sharp gasp and hard shiver tells me she's awake. Her "Bill" is low and full of need, but I silence it with a hard, deep kiss, my tongue entering her mouth to taste her. I'm out of control, on autopilot, and I certainly don't want to think. Right now I need to feel, and I don't want to stop. I need to be inside her, so I maneuver until she is under me, my body cradled by her legs. I support some of my weight with my arms, but our lower bodies are fused together.
Finally I'm there, inside her, and the feeling overwhelms me. I can't think, only move until the world around me goes away in a wash of sensation.
Sated now, I don't want to move but guilt creeps into my post-coital lassitude. What have I done? What is she thinking? I realize I'm not ready to find out. Her breathing is slowing and I hear her say, "Bill?" as I move away.
I interrupt her. "Shh, go back to sleep." Then I get out of bed, put on some sweats and go to sit on the couch. My quarters are quiet and while my body is tired, my mind is still in FTL mode. After several minutes I hear her moving. I should have known she would get up. Kylen never follows orders. I'm not looking at her, but from the corner of my eye I can see her walking toward me. She has a thick blanket from the bunk wrapped around her shoulders and is wearing my old Academy shirt. Those thick socks she constantly wears are the sexiest things I've ever seen. My eyes shift away but I feel her sit down beside me, wrapping both of us up in the blanket while her head rests on my shoulder. We stay like that a long while.
Kylen's voice shatters the quiet. "You're a hero, you know. People are calling you a Holy Lord even though you're not dead." I wonder how she does that. How does Kylen manage to know what's in my heart?
I don't look at her as I reply, "I don't want to be a frak'n holy anything."
She is undeterred and her voice breaks into the silence again. "You enforced wise regulations, even when it meant using marines, and all your warnings about the Cylons were proven right. You saved the human race again, Bill."
"For once I wish I had been wrong. I'm tired of being right." I'm still not looking at her, hoping she will go away and leave me alone.
I feel her shift against me then she says, "Talk to me. Yell, scream, whatever, just let me in. I'm not going away so you may as well talk."
Do I want to talk? Talk about being proven right? Talk about why no one seems to learn from past mistakes? Talk about what just happened here in my quarters?
Although I know I have already lost, I make a last feeble attempt to push her away. "I don't have anything to say."
She sighs, and as I finally turn to look at her I see a slight grimace cross her face. "I'm sorry," I tell her.
Kylen looks at me, clearly not making any connections to my apology. "Sorry for what? Being right? Making those stupid fools follow orders so that when the Cylons attacked us we escaped with minimal fatalities? I don't understand."
Her face holds only confusion. I shake my head and attempt to enlighten her. "I'm sorry about now, in bed. I wasn't exactly at my best."
Kylen's face clears and I see her smile, and then bite her lip. There's humor in her voice as she replies, "You seemed pretty fine to me."
If anything, her smile irritates me. "Damn. You know what I mean. I…it, was all about me. What I wanted. You were just a body along for the ride. Convenient. I wasn't exactly..."
She interrupts me with a snort, then chuckles and shakes her head while saying, "Such a martyr. If I'd wanted you to stop I would have said so."
I know I'm staring hard at her as I reply, "I didn't give you much of a chance to speak."
Her eyes make contact with mine and her voice is hard as steel when she says, "I don't need to speak to tell you to stop. Now quit dancing around the issue and tell me what's really bothering you."
I close my eyes to escape her all too keen vision and give in. "I'm tired. Tired of being the Commander. I'm tired of dealing with politicians and civilians who think I'm crazy for continuing to harp about the Cylons."
"So quit. Retire. I could resign my commission and we could move to the Dell. Dan has told me on more than one occasion he would love to have me set up shop there."
Her solution to my problem is so ridiculous I almost laugh. Instead I try to keep my expression and voice neutral as I look at her and reply, "And what would I do? Keep house?"
Kylen is trying to look serious but is grinning as she considers my answer. "Hmm, that has possibilities, but I doubt you'd be happy for long. You could act as a military adviser. Or, if the housekeeping idea appeals to you, maybe you could take up knitting. Whatever strikes your fancy."
"I can't really see myself knitting, nor playing advisor. Command is like a drug. It's a hard thing to give up once you're used to it."
"How about running for public office? That would certainly scare Madame President and the Council of Twelve."
I turn away from her, trying to maintain my previous bad mood. "Now you're being silly. I don't like politics."
"They're scared of you." I grunt but she continues, "It's true, Bill. Despite calling you crazy at times, most of the people in this fleet trust you implicitly. Your approval rating is way higher than any politician. You have a reputation for being hard line but fair, and you don't play favorites. The citizens would vote you into office in a red-hot minute. But you can't quit the Galactica now."
"I can't? Why not?" I look at her astonished by what she just said, but now she is focused on a point far away on the other side of my quarters.
She sighs, but when she speaks, her voice is no longer teasing. It's a voice I've heard thousands of times before at staff meetings, the voice of Galactica's Chief Medical Officer. "You already know the answer but I'm going to tell you anyway. This stays between us, Bill because some of what I'm going to tell you is in the medical fit reps I would normally send back to Picon Fleet. Right now you are the best person to command Galactica and protect this fleet. You have the experience and the patience. You don't make rash decisions, but are never indecisive. Your presence embodies a strength and authority both the crew and the civilians look to, whether you're formulating a battle plan, or responding to a surprise attack. You're a strong leader and despite what our new government may want to think, the crew and civilians trust you implicitly."
From the way she is talking I'm sure she's quoting what her (or Dr. Sands) report to Picon Fleet would have said about me (if Picon Fleet still existed). I've never had the chance to see my own medical fit rep. She gives another sigh then continues, "Colonel Tigh, on the other hand, has become an excellent XO, but he's not you. He doesn't have your patience, and only lately has the crew started to respect him. He still doesn't have their complete trust. In a crisis situation, they would be more likely to question his orders. Actually, the two of you together make an impressive pair. It probably comes from being friends for so long, you play off each other and there's a balance. By-the-way, if you think your interactions with our President and the Council are stressful, then you should see Colonel Tigh's."
I give her a squeeze and chuckle because I already know that Saul and our President rub each other the wrong way. "So I can't retire."
Finally Kylen looks at me and says, "Nope." We are both smiling at each other now, mischief in our eyes.
"So I guess I'll just remain a crazy old man."
"Probably. But you're my crazy old man. That has to count for something. Let's get some sleep. Neither one of us are spring chickens and these all nighters and double shifts take their toll."
She stands and holds out her hand to me. Taking it I follow her saying, "I prefer being your devious bastard to being your crazy old man."
She just laughs. "We'll see."
END