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New Caprica
26:00
Ιούλιος (Ioulios) - month seven of occupation
Heat lazily clung to the wavering hours of late evening on New Caprica. Darkness, a rarity these days - the sun seemingly content to watch over the browning earth which turned golden beneath its stretching beams.
The village bustled between this merger of day and night, people who all too strongly remembered the ice of winter indulged in mid-night trades and twenty-eight hour parties in the small wood just to the east. The tortured trees revealing galactic structures of mushrooms illuminating the dusk as they clustered up the trunks and scattered amongst the leaf litter. Their retrieving a favourite children's game. For the first time, in a long time, people managed to relax enough to rekindle the distant memory of actually living. Laura and Bill were no different.
Having narrowly averted disaster with Baltar, the state of things had settled to a cease fire of sorts. The Union, faced with the tragic deaths of its members and the risk of losing more, reluctantly returned to work. Amazingly the turbulence seemed to have climaxed and tapered off and now the crops struggled up through the earth, their gilded tips filling with seed and the sickness which, last month nibbled at the edge of the civilisation, had all but dissipated into extinction.
New Caprica had entered the age of play.
And what better game for two powerful leaders then that of war - well, theoretical war at least.
Laura averted her eyes over the ancient board - a meeting of dark and pale polished wood reflecting the firelight that played across the room, its flames a mere flicker of their former selves. Somewhere off to the side fresh bread was baking under hot coals, filling the tent with the sweet smell of grown food. Its enticing sent distracted her slightly as she inspected her position - eyes lowered to gaze through the forest of pieces, the murky burgundy of her squares unfortunately hidden beneath the darker wood of a smiling Admiral.
The Admiral in question sat across from her in lighter summer attire - his obligatory coat done away with early on in the meeting. The beginnings of a smile snuck into his expression as he imagined his inevitable victory - she, however, did not look away from the matter at hand. Instead Laura scanned the board intimately, following the curves and peaks of each piece as their intricate forms rose and fell.
When she finally spoke, it was languid - carefully seductive. Calculated with all the sharpness of her strategic prowess. "Most Interesting." she rolled the words a little, the Admiral's confidence in his victory quivered, ever so slightly.
It was important, though, to main the façade of complete confidence. So he leant back into the confines of his chair, apparently undeterred. "Defeat usually is."
Laura smirked, she saw his hesitation and the subtle nervous tremor of his hand. They sat in continued silence, the ex-president catching the Admiral's lingering eye as he snuck a quick check over his position, almost giving away his secret plan with a careless movement of his eyes, his thought currently limited to, damn that woman and is that vanilla in her hair?.
"No," said Laura simply, twisting her lip suggestively, "this is interesting." She brought up her hand, the Admiral's eyes not daring to touch the softness of her exposed skin, as she sleekly slid her piece down and across, replacing Adama's with her own.
Bill blinked - the move clearly having not occurred to him. "That's - " he started, moving from his relaxed position to lean in over the board, his own hand hovering as he processed the situation. Finally he relinquished his sword, " - interesting..."
Laura almost shivered at his gravely defeat, the events of the past months having distracted her from many things. Carefully censoring her thoughts, lest they slip into reality, she replied with a devious grin that completely disarmed him, "Isn't it just."
Adama picked up the silver piece left in the box - as was the tradition, and placed it in her outstretched hand.
"So?" she eyed him quizzically, not allowing him a moment to mourn the loss.
His eyebrows furrowed. "You mean I have to go now and get it?"
Laura's countenance turned playfully stern. "As I understood it, that was the plan."
Bill all but rolled his eyes, muttering, "women" beneath his breath as he relieved his bones of the comfortable chair and ducked under and out into the busy street.
Laura smiled down at the piece of silver, letting it fall across the back of her fingers before flinging it up into the air and catching it - and old habit. That made it six nil.
A muffled cry made its way into her thoughts, the urgency still lost in sleep. Laura smiled and replaced the silver, moving to the back of the room where the child was waking. "Well hello there." She folded excess fabric away from the little girl revealing a newly opened pair of sapphire eyes. This time the child did not cry, instead its gaze was held by the warmth of the woman above. "I was wondering when you were going to wake up."
She reached down into the cot and gently retrieved her, cradling the bundle protectively in her arms. The child had grown, its appearance now that of a two or three month old, a welcome change from tiny, fragile form that had, not so long ago nestled in her arms.
They stood there for a while, Laura gently wandering with no particular direction, immersed in thoughts she never thought she would have. Her inner distance was so great that she didn't hear the Admiral return - place his small parcel on the table, and approach from behind.
He had long ago come to terms with the idea of Laura assisting in this child's upbringing. As a result of his initial apprehensions, he had been distant at first - but now, as he watched her quietly coax the little girl into warm safety and love, he understood.
She noticed his presence just before his hand came to rest gently on her back as he leant in closer over her shoulder. The little girl was wide awake - a large smile spreading across her face as she saw the Admiral.
"I think she likes you Admiral."
A feeling that had long been buried stirred within him as he realized, "She's beautiful."
"Would you like to hold her?"
"I ah -" but Laura was already transferring the bundle to outstretched arms he didn't remember unfurling. There was something uniquely intimate about he, Laura and the child, it felt, very nearly - like home.
Bill cradled the child, an excited laugh escaping from her tiny mouth. "She's got your sense of humour." He said jokingly as the girl reached up to touch his moustache, giggling as her small fingers brushed the roughness.
"And your stubbornness." Quipped Laura. Adama laughed as the child took hold of his finger and simply refused to let go.
The three of them stood there together, Adama with the child and Laura beside with one hand laid on the soft material around the girl’s body and her other around Adama’s waist.
Nothing was said – it never was. Emotion held in silence could be heard above all else – it was stronger then hardship, despair and fear. And it was there, saturating the room in a warmth that couldn’t be shaken – drawing together three unlikely souls in a poignant symbol of all that was hope.
Author Notes:
This chapter is set after chapter two of A Meeting With The President.