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singerdiva01) wrote2014-02-19 01:21 pm
singerdiva01) wrote2014-02-19 01:21 pm
Entry tags:
BSG Multi-Chapter Fic: Unbreakable Glass (Chapter Three)
Title: Unbreakable Glass
Rating: M
Summary: Set post Epiphanies. As President Roslin regains her strength after her improbable cure & deals with the implications of how she survived, Admiral Adama & Billy conspire to protect her from overdoing it. Both Bill & Laura sort out what "the kiss" meant & might mean now that she's going to live.
A/N: This was my first foray into multi-chapter fic and was originally posted on FF.net before I knew LJ and fandom existed. It's complete, there are 12 chapters and I'm trying to get them archived as quickly as possible because my anal side needs all my fic in one place. :)
Billy was pleased with himself at having managed to keep President Roslin in bed until two hours before her press conference, when she insisted on getting up to shower and dress. He was relieved to find her napping three of the ten times he'd checked on her, although he had a sneaking suspicion that at least one of those times she had been faking sleep to avoid his disapproving look.
For her part, Laura considered it a not small victory that she'd managed to keep Billy from actually following her into the shower. A joking comment about how it would be worth it for him to wait until she regained her curves before trying to see her naked had caused the young man to turn a deep red and he'd quickly agreed to settle for waiting outside the door in case she needed him.
She sighed deeply once she'd closed that door, leaning against it and relishing her first moment alone in what seemed like years. She started the water to let it heat up and turned to the mirror. She gazed pointedly into the glass as she undressed, something she hadn't done while dying because, she'd told herself rationally, there was no point in mourning a body that wouldn't be around for much longer. Now that it seemed she was going to live, she was overcome by an overwhelming desire to see the damage.
She almost gasped when she removed her nightgown and saw, by turning to the side, how her ribs jutted out both in the front and back. Her collar bones, which she'd once vainly considered her most alluring attribute next to her hair, also looked like they were going to poke out of her skin, along with her hip bones. Her arms were dotted with bruises from IV's and injections and she already knew the ones that looked like fingers were from when Cottle and his team held her down as she had a seizure. There was an unidentified bruise between her breasts and while she knew she could ask Cottle or Billy what had caused it, she didn't want to get yelled at by the good doctor for being ungrateful or cause Billy to cry yet again.
She touched her left breast lightly, something she'd done frequently when no one was looking over the past few days. She almost couldn't believe how the tumor, whose weight and curse she'd registered with every step since her diagnosis, was gone and that she felt no pain upon touching the spot. She remembered how just a few weeks ago she'd had to stifle a cry as Kara Thrace hugged her suddenly, excited about the successful Tylium mission and completely unaware that Laura's own shocked reaction was due to almost unbearable pain rather than annoyance with the break in the formality supposedly due to her position.
As she finished her inspection, a realization hit her like a truck and she grabbed the sink to keep from physically registering the blow. She looked like her mother the day before she died, the last time she'd gently bathed her broken body and listen to her cry softly at the pain of being touched. Shuddering at the memory and the knowledge of how close she came to meeting the same fate, Laura turned away from the mirror and stepped carefully over the lip of the shower into the hot water.
As she let it run down her back and slowly permeate her thick locks to reach her skull, she took stock of her body's current condition, the things she couldn't see in the mirror. Her mind was crystal clear for the first time in weeks and her thoughts connected as quickly and effectively as they had before the whole ordeal began. It was as if the synapses were singing, joyously, "we're alive!" and she smiled as she imagined the feel of of her hands rubbing shampoo into her hair stimulating the unseen neurons into a lively dance.
While she was loathe to admit it, her body hadn't caught up as quickly. She was sore all over, which Cottle said was because her muscles had begun to atrophy while she was sick. To her, the pain seemed deeper, like it had taken up residence in her bones, and small things that shouldn't hurt now did. The couch that served as her bed was almost as uncomfortable as the hard cot in life station and she'd spent the previous night waking up to sharp pains in her ribs and hips. While she'd resigned herself to tiring quickly while sick, she was annoyed that Cottle had been right about having to be careful about what she chose to expend energy on now that she'd been given a new lease on life. The shortness of breath at the slightest exertion was also a symptom she desperately hoped disappeared sooner rather than later.
As she began to wash the soap out of her hair, she forced herself to think about the circumstances that led to all of this. She was supposed to be dead, had resigned herself to being dead, and yet she wasn't. Because Bill Adama had decided to let Baltar experiment on her and it had worked. And now, for better or worse or whatever the hell else it might mean, she was bodily connected and indebted to the enemy who'd destroyed her home world.
He had no right to make that decision for me. He had no way of knowing if I wanted to live. He wanted me to live and he made it so, without my consent. What if he highjacked our journey to Earth? What if I was supposed to die and now the Gods are angry and are going to keep us stranded in space until we're too weak to fight the Cylons or we simply die out? What right did he have to force the human pilot to save me, the woman who'd hours earlier ordered his child aborted?
Shaking her head to clear that thought from her mind, she reached for the conditioner and moved on to the other questions weighing on her mind. What was this Cylon blood inside of her going to do? What did it mean for her as president? What did it mean for her as the human Laura?
He could have put the whole fleet in danger by allowing the president to become, at least somewhat, part Cylon. What if the blood from that fetus makes me do things I don't intend to do? Does he care so much for Laura that he forgot what a risk he was taking in forcing President Roslin to become intricately intertwined with the enemy?
The implications of her thoughts suddenly overwhelmed her and she started to feel slightly dizzy but she couldn't stop them from swimming around in her brain.
How in the worlds can he see Lee and Kara as military assets that can be risked but will turn to the Cylons for help because he doesn't want me to die? When he kissed me that night I felt alive and happy for the first time in...forever. It was just a kind gesture to a dying woman, of course. Comforting a friend he thought he'd never see again. Right? What the hell is wrong with me that the first thing I thought to be grateful for when I woke up was that I'd get to see him again?
At that thought, Laura was suddenly overcome by the dizziness and she just managed to turn off the water before sinking, she hoped silently, to the floor of the shower and putting her head between her knees.
Breathe, Laura. The last thing you need is Billy finding you passed out naked in the shower. This will pass, just concentrate.
She focused on taking slow, deep breaths and was grateful that the dizziness seemed to be abating. She was suddenly incredibly hot and knew she had to find the strength to stand and get out of the humid prison the small bathroom had become. After another minute of slow breaths, she took hold of the lip of the shower and willed herself into a standing position, grabbing the wall of the shower for balance as she got herself upright. Another session of measured breathing later, she carefully stepped out of the shower and, grabbing the towel on the sink as she used the plaster as a support, moved to sit down on the toilet to start drying off.
While she was pleased with her little accomplishment - she rolled her eyes to herself as she realized that not passing out in the shower could be considered an accomplishment these days - there had evidently been too long of a lull for Billy between the water being turned off and her emergence from the bathroom. He knocked on the door insistently and she could tell he was trying not to sound panicked as he called to her.
"Madame President, are you alright in there?"
Making sure her voice was steady and light, she responded. "Of course, Billy. I'm just dealing with my hair."
She waited to see if Billy took her words at face value, counting on the fact that the young man knew very little about women and their grooming rituals. He evidently did as he sounded a bit confused when he answered back, "Sorry, Madam President. Take your time. Just call if you need any help."
Laura stifled a giggle as she expertly towel dried her hair, untangled the locks with her fingers, and reached for the discarded blue robe on the floor. She found the clean underwear she'd carried in with her, pulled them slowly over her legs, and used the toilet seat to leverage herself into a standing position. She took a deep breath and prepared herself for the onslaught of concern called Billy Keikaya.
The young man was, as promised, lurking at the door and as soon as it opened, he was there to take her weight onto his arm. As Laura stepped from the steam of the head and into the cool air of the main cabin, something about the temperature change made her light-headed and she sighed as she leaned on Billy for support. She held them in place, looking down at the floor for a moment before raising her head and looking toward her bed.
Before moving, Billy asked softly, "are you ok?"
Laura nodded resolutely. "Yes. I think I just need to lie down for a little bit." She hated how her voice sounded now, hoarse and somehow permanently weak. She hoped that this too would fade away and soon.
Laura let Billy lead her slowly to the couch and help her sit down. She put her hands underneath her hair and carefully lay down, arranging the auburn mass in a fan-like splay across the pillow to try to keep it from becoming a frizzy mess while she napped.
She looked up at Billy, who was still looking concerned as he tried to parse out whether or not he needed to stay. "Alright, thank you Billy. Why don't you go take a look at my notes on possible questions and answers for the press conference and we'll discuss them on the shuttle over?"
He nodded but hesitated before leaving the room. Laura smiled gently at him as she realized once again that she was not the only one who was going to have to get used to the idea of her life continuing on.
"You don't have to watch me sleep anymore, Billy. I promise I'll wake up," she said, her voice suddenly filled with emotion. She knew, even though he'd never voiced it, that his greatest fear had been trying to wake her one day and being unable to. Before his eyes could fill with tears, she added a light, playful tone to her next sentence. "However, if you even think of letting me sleep rather than do that press conference, I can't say the same will be true for you tomorrow."
That line got the intended laugh and Billy made a motion of crossing his heart in silent promise before leaving the room.
As Laura closed her eyes, she wondered with whether it was really the heat that made her head swim a few minutes ago or the shockingly relevant question of whether William Adama wanted her alive to see if they could be more than just friends. Or, was it the even more terrifying but no less relevant question that she might want that too?
Rating: M
Summary: Set post Epiphanies. As President Roslin regains her strength after her improbable cure & deals with the implications of how she survived, Admiral Adama & Billy conspire to protect her from overdoing it. Both Bill & Laura sort out what "the kiss" meant & might mean now that she's going to live.
A/N: This was my first foray into multi-chapter fic and was originally posted on FF.net before I knew LJ and fandom existed. It's complete, there are 12 chapters and I'm trying to get them archived as quickly as possible because my anal side needs all my fic in one place. :)
Billy was pleased with himself at having managed to keep President Roslin in bed until two hours before her press conference, when she insisted on getting up to shower and dress. He was relieved to find her napping three of the ten times he'd checked on her, although he had a sneaking suspicion that at least one of those times she had been faking sleep to avoid his disapproving look.
For her part, Laura considered it a not small victory that she'd managed to keep Billy from actually following her into the shower. A joking comment about how it would be worth it for him to wait until she regained her curves before trying to see her naked had caused the young man to turn a deep red and he'd quickly agreed to settle for waiting outside the door in case she needed him.
She sighed deeply once she'd closed that door, leaning against it and relishing her first moment alone in what seemed like years. She started the water to let it heat up and turned to the mirror. She gazed pointedly into the glass as she undressed, something she hadn't done while dying because, she'd told herself rationally, there was no point in mourning a body that wouldn't be around for much longer. Now that it seemed she was going to live, she was overcome by an overwhelming desire to see the damage.
She almost gasped when she removed her nightgown and saw, by turning to the side, how her ribs jutted out both in the front and back. Her collar bones, which she'd once vainly considered her most alluring attribute next to her hair, also looked like they were going to poke out of her skin, along with her hip bones. Her arms were dotted with bruises from IV's and injections and she already knew the ones that looked like fingers were from when Cottle and his team held her down as she had a seizure. There was an unidentified bruise between her breasts and while she knew she could ask Cottle or Billy what had caused it, she didn't want to get yelled at by the good doctor for being ungrateful or cause Billy to cry yet again.
She touched her left breast lightly, something she'd done frequently when no one was looking over the past few days. She almost couldn't believe how the tumor, whose weight and curse she'd registered with every step since her diagnosis, was gone and that she felt no pain upon touching the spot. She remembered how just a few weeks ago she'd had to stifle a cry as Kara Thrace hugged her suddenly, excited about the successful Tylium mission and completely unaware that Laura's own shocked reaction was due to almost unbearable pain rather than annoyance with the break in the formality supposedly due to her position.
As she finished her inspection, a realization hit her like a truck and she grabbed the sink to keep from physically registering the blow. She looked like her mother the day before she died, the last time she'd gently bathed her broken body and listen to her cry softly at the pain of being touched. Shuddering at the memory and the knowledge of how close she came to meeting the same fate, Laura turned away from the mirror and stepped carefully over the lip of the shower into the hot water.
As she let it run down her back and slowly permeate her thick locks to reach her skull, she took stock of her body's current condition, the things she couldn't see in the mirror. Her mind was crystal clear for the first time in weeks and her thoughts connected as quickly and effectively as they had before the whole ordeal began. It was as if the synapses were singing, joyously, "we're alive!" and she smiled as she imagined the feel of of her hands rubbing shampoo into her hair stimulating the unseen neurons into a lively dance.
While she was loathe to admit it, her body hadn't caught up as quickly. She was sore all over, which Cottle said was because her muscles had begun to atrophy while she was sick. To her, the pain seemed deeper, like it had taken up residence in her bones, and small things that shouldn't hurt now did. The couch that served as her bed was almost as uncomfortable as the hard cot in life station and she'd spent the previous night waking up to sharp pains in her ribs and hips. While she'd resigned herself to tiring quickly while sick, she was annoyed that Cottle had been right about having to be careful about what she chose to expend energy on now that she'd been given a new lease on life. The shortness of breath at the slightest exertion was also a symptom she desperately hoped disappeared sooner rather than later.
As she began to wash the soap out of her hair, she forced herself to think about the circumstances that led to all of this. She was supposed to be dead, had resigned herself to being dead, and yet she wasn't. Because Bill Adama had decided to let Baltar experiment on her and it had worked. And now, for better or worse or whatever the hell else it might mean, she was bodily connected and indebted to the enemy who'd destroyed her home world.
He had no right to make that decision for me. He had no way of knowing if I wanted to live. He wanted me to live and he made it so, without my consent. What if he highjacked our journey to Earth? What if I was supposed to die and now the Gods are angry and are going to keep us stranded in space until we're too weak to fight the Cylons or we simply die out? What right did he have to force the human pilot to save me, the woman who'd hours earlier ordered his child aborted?
Shaking her head to clear that thought from her mind, she reached for the conditioner and moved on to the other questions weighing on her mind. What was this Cylon blood inside of her going to do? What did it mean for her as president? What did it mean for her as the human Laura?
He could have put the whole fleet in danger by allowing the president to become, at least somewhat, part Cylon. What if the blood from that fetus makes me do things I don't intend to do? Does he care so much for Laura that he forgot what a risk he was taking in forcing President Roslin to become intricately intertwined with the enemy?
The implications of her thoughts suddenly overwhelmed her and she started to feel slightly dizzy but she couldn't stop them from swimming around in her brain.
How in the worlds can he see Lee and Kara as military assets that can be risked but will turn to the Cylons for help because he doesn't want me to die? When he kissed me that night I felt alive and happy for the first time in...forever. It was just a kind gesture to a dying woman, of course. Comforting a friend he thought he'd never see again. Right? What the hell is wrong with me that the first thing I thought to be grateful for when I woke up was that I'd get to see him again?
At that thought, Laura was suddenly overcome by the dizziness and she just managed to turn off the water before sinking, she hoped silently, to the floor of the shower and putting her head between her knees.
Breathe, Laura. The last thing you need is Billy finding you passed out naked in the shower. This will pass, just concentrate.
She focused on taking slow, deep breaths and was grateful that the dizziness seemed to be abating. She was suddenly incredibly hot and knew she had to find the strength to stand and get out of the humid prison the small bathroom had become. After another minute of slow breaths, she took hold of the lip of the shower and willed herself into a standing position, grabbing the wall of the shower for balance as she got herself upright. Another session of measured breathing later, she carefully stepped out of the shower and, grabbing the towel on the sink as she used the plaster as a support, moved to sit down on the toilet to start drying off.
While she was pleased with her little accomplishment - she rolled her eyes to herself as she realized that not passing out in the shower could be considered an accomplishment these days - there had evidently been too long of a lull for Billy between the water being turned off and her emergence from the bathroom. He knocked on the door insistently and she could tell he was trying not to sound panicked as he called to her.
"Madame President, are you alright in there?"
Making sure her voice was steady and light, she responded. "Of course, Billy. I'm just dealing with my hair."
She waited to see if Billy took her words at face value, counting on the fact that the young man knew very little about women and their grooming rituals. He evidently did as he sounded a bit confused when he answered back, "Sorry, Madam President. Take your time. Just call if you need any help."
Laura stifled a giggle as she expertly towel dried her hair, untangled the locks with her fingers, and reached for the discarded blue robe on the floor. She found the clean underwear she'd carried in with her, pulled them slowly over her legs, and used the toilet seat to leverage herself into a standing position. She took a deep breath and prepared herself for the onslaught of concern called Billy Keikaya.
The young man was, as promised, lurking at the door and as soon as it opened, he was there to take her weight onto his arm. As Laura stepped from the steam of the head and into the cool air of the main cabin, something about the temperature change made her light-headed and she sighed as she leaned on Billy for support. She held them in place, looking down at the floor for a moment before raising her head and looking toward her bed.
Before moving, Billy asked softly, "are you ok?"
Laura nodded resolutely. "Yes. I think I just need to lie down for a little bit." She hated how her voice sounded now, hoarse and somehow permanently weak. She hoped that this too would fade away and soon.
Laura let Billy lead her slowly to the couch and help her sit down. She put her hands underneath her hair and carefully lay down, arranging the auburn mass in a fan-like splay across the pillow to try to keep it from becoming a frizzy mess while she napped.
She looked up at Billy, who was still looking concerned as he tried to parse out whether or not he needed to stay. "Alright, thank you Billy. Why don't you go take a look at my notes on possible questions and answers for the press conference and we'll discuss them on the shuttle over?"
He nodded but hesitated before leaving the room. Laura smiled gently at him as she realized once again that she was not the only one who was going to have to get used to the idea of her life continuing on.
"You don't have to watch me sleep anymore, Billy. I promise I'll wake up," she said, her voice suddenly filled with emotion. She knew, even though he'd never voiced it, that his greatest fear had been trying to wake her one day and being unable to. Before his eyes could fill with tears, she added a light, playful tone to her next sentence. "However, if you even think of letting me sleep rather than do that press conference, I can't say the same will be true for you tomorrow."
That line got the intended laugh and Billy made a motion of crossing his heart in silent promise before leaving the room.
As Laura closed her eyes, she wondered with whether it was really the heat that made her head swim a few minutes ago or the shockingly relevant question of whether William Adama wanted her alive to see if they could be more than just friends. Or, was it the even more terrifying but no less relevant question that she might want that too?