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Sick Bay was silent, holding its breath even as the rest of the ship, the rest of the Fleet, continued on. Even still, there was a shroud over everything, starting in Sick Bay and creeping outwards, tendrils encircling everything they touched and infecting it with the same eerie quiet. In the center of the room, the cause of the quiescence was motionless in her bed, head slightly inclined and eyes open but downcast. Anyone approaching would have assumed she was asleep, but she watched the ground near her bed, listened for the sounds of anyone approaching, but nothing moved.
She let out a ragged, gasping breath and the sudden sound in the room surprised her. Her fingers dug into the thin blanket that covered her, her other hand slowly moving up to press against her chest. Too many wires got in her way and she briefly frowned as her hand dropped back to her lap.
“Madam President?” A voice beside her made her jump again and she realized she didn’t have as close of an eye on her surroundings as she had originally thought. Slowly, she raised her head, more letting it fall back against the bed than holding it up herself, and squinted to try to see Billy clearly. “How are you feeling?”
She let out a short, harsh laugh and let her eyes close for a moment. “I understand the phrase “one foot in the grave,” she replied, her voice painfully weak and hoarse.
“Can I get you anything?” He shuffled nervously, his hands folded in front of himself.
She shot him a bitter look and immediately regretted it, her eyes closing once again. “I’m sorry,” she sighed, carefully moving her hand with the IV up to rub at her eyes and then her temple. Her fingers briefly dug into the side of her head, doing nothing for her headache and only reminding her of how badly she needed a shower. “I’m okay.”
“Are you sure? I brought some tea, your book. Uh…” He moved a little closer and rested his hand on the side of her bed.
“I’m okay,” she repeated, forcing her eyes open so she could see him and all of the concern that looked back. “Tired.”
“Have you been sleeping?” She waved her hand vaguely around, but he accepted it as an answer and didn’t push. “What did Cottle say?”
She sighed at his persistent questions and assumed Cottle had hidden away to avoid them himself. “Haven’t seen him.”
“That’s a good sign, isn’t it?” He continued shuffling, uncomfortable and failing to hide it.
“Sure.” She briefly scowled. “Means I’m not dying immediately.”
“Madam President...” He made a face, one she couldn’t interpret, and pulled back from her bed.
“Your denial is almost as bad as Bill’s,” she muttered sardonically, her eyes roaming up to the ceiling before she closed them.
“Because I think you’re giving up.” There was a sudden forcefulness to his voice that made her look at him again, eyes narrowed as she studied his face.
“Cottle may be a good doctor and Dr. Baltar a brilliant scientist, but last I checked, neither have found a cure for cancer.” She let out another ragged breath and winced, her lungs needing more oxygen than they could get.
“So, why didn’t you give up last week? Or last month? Or the day the Cylons attacked?” He dropped into the chair and stared at her, his eyes pleading with a lost and helpless look overflowing.
“Billy…” The ache in her chest grew worse, but she knew it had nothing to do with the cancer or her quiet fight for breath. She waved her hand around again and didn’t look away from him, couldn’t look away. “Look at me,” she said softly. “I have a better chance of fighting the Cylons than this.”
“We had a better chance of dying, of starving, of killing each other, than surviving the last six months. What are the odds of finding Pegasus?” His gaze hardened and though the lost look persisted, it was tempered by a steely focus he had gained since she had known him. “This isn’t the Laura Roslin I agreed to work with.”
“What do you want me to do?” she sighed, her body forcing her eyes closed. “It’s not a question of willpower.”
“Don’t give up.” Everything faded and for a moment, he was the same young man she had first met on Colonial Heavy, eager to visit Galactica and with no idea of what was fated for them. “Please.”
She didn’t have a response, but any chance to speak up was interrupted by footsteps approaching them. Bill hesitated by the curtains but she lifted her hand enough to gesture him over. He stopped at the foot of her bed, arms crossed, but didn’t say anything. Billy cleared his throat and stood up, staring at the ground for several long moments.
“I’ll be back in a few hours. Can I get you anything?” he asked when he finally looked at her again.
“My blanket,” she replied softly. “The blue one off my bed. It’s too cold over here. But only if you end up on Colonial One.”
“I’ll take care of it,” he promised, his fingers lightly grazing hers before he pulled back. “Admiral.”
Bill grunted and watched Billy leave; he made sure they were alone before he settled into the abandoned chair and took Laura’s hand between his own. He watched her, still silent, but she understood enough of what was in his blue eyes.
“You talked to Cottle.” Her voice caught in her throat and he nodded. “And there’s nothing he can do,” she answered, so he didn’t have to.
“Frak cancer,” he muttered.
She laughed, but it was choked with tears and held no humor. “We knew, Bill,” she said gently. “We knew this couldn’t go on forever, that too much could go wrong. Was already going wrong.” She paused for breath and a tear leaked from the corner of her eye. “Promise me something. When it’s time, don’t send me out into space. Please. Lay me gently in the Earth when you get there.”
He shook his head and his hands reflexively tightened around hers. “Laura…”
“I’ll get to see my mom again.” She smiled woefully, almost wistfully. “My sisters, my dad. And one day, years from now, you’ll join me in Elysium too.”
“Laura…” he repeated, incapable of anything more.
“I know you don’t understand. Neither does Billy.” Her lungs protested, her body disliking the amount of conversation and how long she had been awake, but she fought it with everything she had. “Just know, I loved you all along,” she whispered.
Her eyes closed as she gave into sleep, her breathing growing a little easier as her body relaxed. Her hand went limp in his and he moved quickly, worriedly, his fingers pressing against her wrist as he focused on her chest. Her pulse was slow but still there and matched what the monitors said; it was hard to see her chest moving, but he finally caught sight of that too. Swearing softly, he kissed her knuckles and lowered her hand to the bed. She had made her choice and though he knew his opinion was biased by emotions he couldn’t put into words, he also knew how crucial she was to the survival of humanity. He’d be damned if he sat by and did nothing when they still had options on the table. He passed by Cottle on his way toward the hatch, barely casting him a glance.
“Admiral? Everything okay?”
“I’m getting Dr. Baltar,” he sent over his shoulder.
An hour later, Bill found himself alone in his quarters, elbows on his knees and leaning forward with his hands folded. The tension, the quiet, as he waited for an update after Cottle had kicked him out of Sick Bay was growing overwhelming, but he forced himself to stay where he was. He didn’t pray, not to gods he didn’t think existed, but he murmured for the universe to hear, whispered because she did believe.
“Just one more day. If she doesn’t have the will, give her mine.”
The words disappeared into his quiet quarters and though he felt that no one heard, he pushed himself to his feet, intensely focused on his destination now.
Sick Bay was even quieter than before when he pushed the hatch open and Bill’s heart began to hammer immediately. He knew he would have been the first or second one notified if anything had happened—depending on Billy’s proximity—and he allowed that logic to slow his heart rate, scanning for the doctor as he moved toward Laura’s bed. He didn’t find him until he pushed the curtain aside, the older man focused on drawing blood from Laura.
“I’m taking that as a good sign,” Bill murmured, his attention shifting to Laura who was barely awake.
“It’s not a sign at all,” Cottle grumbled. Bill stared at him and crossed his arms. “I’m not saying anything until I have concrete results and answers in front of me.”
“He doesn’t believe in miracles,” Laura rasped, the beginnings of a wry smile twisting her lips.
“And you do?” Cottle shot back, his attention never wavering.
“I’m not dead.” Her eyes moved to Bill and though they were clouded and unfocused, her consternation and outrage were still obvious.
“Not knowing the science behind something doesn’t make it a miracle.” Cottle shook his head and grumbled under his breath as he collected the vials and looked her over.
She didn’t look at him, gazing at Bill through heavily-lidded eyes. “Pretty sure that’s the definition,” she said, her exhaustion clear in her slurring words.
“Not arguing with you, young lady. Go back to sleep and I’ll be back in the morning.” Cottle turned around and held Bill’s eyes for a moment, offering the smallest of reassuring nods before he walked out.
With a sigh, he settled into the chair but didn’t take her hand. He folded his in his lap and watched her, his brow furrowing. “You’re upset,” he finally said. She let out a quiet hum. “Will you at least hear me out?”
“No.”
“Not now.”
“No.”
“Laura…” He sighed again and leaned forward, hating the amount of irritation on her tired face. “Do you want me to leave?”
Her expression broke and he saw the true depth of her fear and weariness. “No,” she whispered, the word barely audible. “Stay.” Her eyes closed in a long blink. “Too tired to argue.”
“Then don’t.” He gave in and took her hand.
When she fell asleep this time, he didn’t feel the same flash of panic. He still checked her pulse and watched her, this time lingering by her side as long as he could.
They were both surprised by her energy the next morning. There was a healthy color to her face and the clarity had returned to her bright eyes which immediately turned to him. He was further surprised by the drowsy smile she gave him, her hand slowly reached out toward him. He had fallen asleep with his head resting near hers; the position left his back and neck stiff, but being so close to her had been worth it, especially as her fingertips trailed down his cheek.
“You stayed,” she said, her quiet voice still thick with sleep.
“You asked me to.” He shrugged and his eyes fluttered under her touch. “I thought you were upset.”
“I am.” She started to pull her hand back, but he took it and laced their fingers together. “You had no right.”
“You gave up,” he said simply. “You had no right giving up on humanity.”
“I didn’t…” Her brow furrowed and she cautiously rolled onto her side to face him, panting softly from the exertion but relieved that she had been able to move on her own.
He huffed and watched her apprehensively. “You really think they’ll be better off with Baltar as president?”
“Gods, no.” She folded her arm so she could rest her head on it and closed her eyes while she tried to catch her breath. “I had this conversation with Billy, can you just continue it with him?”
“You think there’s only dark ahead, Laura. Why? Because Pythia says so?” He shook his head and held her head tighter, his thumb rubbing along the side of her finger. “Even if those prophecies are accurate, did they say anything about this? About Pegasus?”
She considered him as she bit at her dry lower lip, head whirling with everything that had happened and everything she was trying to ignore.
“It’s just the gods throwing ink at a page to see what sticks. Some of it is bound to be right, but it doesn’t mean everything is. They don’t know what you’ll become, Laura. I know this isn’t what you wanted, but I also know you weren’t in your right mind and someone had to consider the whole of humanity.” He hesitated, wondering if his next words should be said or not, but forged on. “Unless you want to give in.”
“I don’t want to suffer with cancer for the rest of my life,” she managed.
“And if Hera’s blood worked?”
“I don’t… I don’t know,” she admitted.
“But you have the chance to consider it now and I won’t apologize for that.” His voice was firm and would’ve stolen her breath if she hadn’t lost it already. “I didn’t know how to help you and I couldn’t lose you,” he added, his voice dropping until it was only lightly carried on the air between them.
“Bill…” Her eyes closed and her face contorted as she tried to push back the emotions trying so hard to overwhelm her.
Gently, he pulled her hand to his lips and kissed her knuckles before he dropped it and brushed her hair back from her face. He leaned closer and kissed her forehead too, his eyes sliding closed until he leaned back enough to meet her watery eyes.
“For what it’s worth,” he whispered, “I would follow you anywhere, Laura Roslin.”
Her lips twitched toward a smile. “You could just say the words, you know.”
“It’s not enough to sit by your deathbed all night?”
“Not if I’m not dying.” Her smile grew slightly stronger.
“I love you.” He kissed her, light and quick, before he stood up and adjusted the blanket over her. “I’ll be back with lunch.”
“You don’t seem to understand this whole thing where I’m mad at you.”
“No, I don’t.” He shrugged and offered her a small smile of his own. “Listen to Cottle, will you?”
“Mhm, depends on what he says,” she hummed, a light laugh following it until she suddenly sobered. “Thank you.”
“So, you’re mad, but you’re thanking me?” He knew what she meant, but he both wanted and needed to hear her say it. As much as she needed to hear his affection.
“I’m not saying you did the right thing, but I am grateful to still be alive…” she acknowledged.
“Let’s wait and see what Cottle says.” He hesitated, his eyes slowly taking her in as if to convince himself she was still there.
She saw the distress quickly cross his face and sighed, knowing there was nothing she could do to reassure him. Instead, she reached her hand out again, but he didn’t take it and left her hand hanging off the edge of the bed. It made her sigh and she pulled it back, her fingers tangling in the blanket to pull it closer. Billy had finally brought hers over from Colonial One and she wasn’t sure if it was feeling better or the blanket, but she wasn’t as cold.
“I’ll be back,” he reassured her.
“I’ll be here,” she promised in return.
They looked at each other for several long moments, both allowing their emotions to simmer a little closer to the surface. Slowly, Bill packed his away in preparation to leave, collecting himself so he could change and get to the CIC. Laura contained herself to maintain her steady breathing, unwilling to let her emotions out in front of anyone who might pass by, especially Cottle or Billy. Too quickly, his face was calm and blank and hers only belied her exhaustion. Only then did he turn and leave, Laura watching him go from her bed, her precarious control over her emotions already fading.