ruth76 (ruth76) wrote,


An Adama/Roslin ficlet. Contains spoilers for LDYB part 2.

Bill Adama loves wednesdays.

A year ago it was thursdays, 6 months ago mondays and as little as three weeks ago, he had a certain fondness for tuesdays. But this week, wednesday is his day.

Of course it’s somewhat marred by his weekly ten minute meeting with President Baltars’ third aides secretary, who spends the entire duration of his fleet status report filing her nails into perfect curves. A year ago he had the honor of meeting with the President himself for weekly briefings. Six months ago, with the President far too busy to meet the Commander of the Fleet, his meetings were rescheduled to a time convenient to the President’s aide. Now only a secretary can be spared to listen to updates on fuel supplies and pilot numbers. In a few weeks, Bill expects to be talking ship numbers with the President’s cleaner or the man who serves lunch, but as long as he still gets to come to New Caprica one day a week, he finds he doesn’t care.

The main settlement is a vast sea of green tents, and as long as it stays that way then he can still find hope. A tent is temporary. A tent can be packed aboard a shuttle and flown back up to the great silver ships which orbit the planet, as if en-route to somewhere else. A tent says people haven’t put down roots yet, that perhaps they’re not ready to settle for any old world, that this planet can not, after all, replace the one’s that they called home.
Tents say that the past year is undoable, that the slate can be wiped clean again. Tents are an admission that they were wrong.

The school tent lies in the middle of the settlement. On wednesdays (as on thursdays, mondays and tuesdays), he quietly slips in and takes a seat at the back.

She glows when she teaches, like she never did as President. It’s the difference between doing something because you have to, because you’re the best candidate for the job, because the alternative is a terrorist or a man who talks to people who aren’t there, and doing something because it’s your passion. And she’s good at teaching. The children love her and the parents, some of whom no doubt contributed to the end of her presidency, speak with nostalgia of the good old days when she was in charge.

She makes him smile. She makes him cut paper dollies out for the children too young to use scissors by themselves, and colour them in with crayons scavenged from the gods know where. She makes him help her tidy up the school after the children have gone home, and if most times, her desk has to be tidied twice, then who’s to know? And in her tent, with the lights out in an effort to achieve some measure of privacy, she makes him moan her name. He likes to return the favour.

Bill Adama loves wednesdays.

Laura Roslin loves them too.

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