Ó ìíó ññûëêà òîæ íå îòêðûëàñü, íî ÿ ïîðûëàñü íà èíñòèíêòå...
~The Nurse Who Loved Me~
Chapter 1: All Dressed in White
The sterile smell permeated through his nostrils: prickling, burning, strident, too clean. Warm light rested on his forehead, lighting the insides of his eyelids to a dull pink. What did he last remember? Where was he? He didn’t open his eyes. It had happened so fast; now, he couldn’t make out the fine details, stuck in the haze and blur of his battered memories. But, he could recall the sound, the screech and the tear, the burn of the atmospheric entrance, the sensation of metal colliding with earth. He had drifted too close to the deft line, the barrier between space and gravitational pull: the perigee. He had, and a few of his pilots had, and they were sucked inward, spiraling like water down a drain, systems crashed, Cylon-battered.
The muffled, panicked voices of his pilots over the Comm. still relayed in his mind, ringing in his ears like a distant sensation. The ace pilot wouldn’t open his eyes, the sun was too bright over his eyelids; he could tell it was natural light spilling over him. Methodical, light, mechanical beeping echoed around him, one machine heard at first, and then a wave of many beeping machines, the sounds of bustling action around him, the wheeling of metal carts and sharp, definite footsteps. That medicinal smell stung in his nose. But he wouldn’t open his eyes, swaying in and out of oblivion, falling and awakening from sleep. There was perpetual darkness, but for the soft sheen of his eyelids, his jumbled recollections playing out in his involuntary reverie. Chaos and confusion, isolation and silence…until he finally opened his eyes…
The light was bright. The light was warm. It took his eyes a few moments to focus. The pain hit him first, when he tried to sit up, sharp and searing pain, his abdomen aching beneath the starch-white sheets of his makeshift bed, before he finally gave up and lay back down. William Adama, twenty five years old, illustrious ace pilot, was one of the hundred men crammed into this “hospital”, which was no more than a spare high-school gymnasium. Supplies were limited. It was four years into the war. Doctors and nurses tended to his companions at either side of him: Crossover and Sodapop, who, from what Bill could see, were in relatively good condition. The doctors and nurses dissipated from the bed at his left where Crossover sat, propped up, reading an issue of Caprica Life, with which, he was plainly bored. Turning his blonde head nonchalantly, he glanced to his Captain with a lopsided smile,
“How are ya doin’ Husker?” He croaked amiably.
Bill chuckled, wincing slightly from the pain that followed, clutching his bandaged ribs, “Just woke up. I feel like hell, what about you?”
“Eh,” Crossover shrugged, “a bit of internal bleeding. But, otherwise, I feel damn good.”
Adama grinned, wide and dashing, cobalt eyes bright and good-humored, “Take it easy, Pete, you’ll need your strength when we get out of here, back in the cockpit…”
“I suggest the same to you Cap’n.”
“We can’t go around frakking nurses…” Adama winked.
Crossover laughed heartily in his bed, setting down the magazine, the laughter causing him a bit of pain, “Yeah, well I think I can handle the temporary celibacy. You, on the other hand,” He cringed quietly, still smiling, “You frak a woman wherever you go, they can’t resist you, them broads…”
Bill chuckled proudly, shrugging animatedly, “What can I say Pete? I’m a doll magnet.”
Pete smiled, pointing up a finger agreeably, “That you are Cap’n, that you are.” He let out an amicable huff of air, “You’re an inspiration to us other sorry sods.”
Bill gave his head a bemused shake, running a hand (with minor discomfort) through his thick, obsidian hair, scouting out the gymnasium that was poorly masquerading as a hospital. Checking out girls, that was Bill Adama’s famed talent (other than piloting his viper). He was just about a damned god to “the guys” for his ability to not only enchant any woman he wanted, but charming them into his bed, as well. The place was filled with nurses, but Gods, Bill could hardly pick one out from the others. They were a mob, a white mob.
“What are the pickings like?” Bill asked casually, glancing to Crossover from his peripheral view, still trying to eye the crowds of white-uniformed women for one girl that stood out.
Crossover snorted disappointedly, “Not the greatest,” He began to peer about, “I’ve only been awake for only a few hours but there doesn’t seem to be a really amaz-…”
Pete stopped short, catching the Captain’s attention, as he abandoned his search, knitting his brows together as he eyed Crossover’s back, his eyes transfixed in one direction, “What, Pete?”
The other pilot seemed like a Toaster, monotonous and expressionless, “Dear Gods, r-redhead at nine o’clock…”
“I thought you said there were slim pickings…”
“Well, I-I’m wrong most of the time anyway, Cap’n.” He stuttered, sighing deeply, “Jeez, look at her…”
Bill could almost hear the gurgle of drool in the young man’s hasty voice. Quickly, he tried to peer around Crossover’s hunched over body.
“Gods dammit, Lieutenant, move your frakking head.”
Crossover responded quickly, giving him a clear view, his eyes still glued. The captain’s cobalt eyes trailed over the young nurse that Pete had so observantly picked out. Dear Gods, the little frak-up was right. Bill Adama, notorious flyboy, actually felt his heart flutter at the sight of this girl, this nurse, who clutched a clipboard beneath the crook of her arm, walking, ever so methodically on those familiar, starch-white, high-heeled shoes. Long, sinful legs emerged from a white uniform that was just tight enough, just small enough, to make sweat beads form on Adama’s brow. Her hair was like dark, shadow fire, slightly curled waves of burgundy wine that fell innocently about her shoulders. This girl was girlish enough, innocent enough, to make her naughty, absolutely delicious in a young man’s eyes. He watched her closely, those shady eyes of hers, shrouding olive irises, set in an evenly pale face with features so distinctive, so lovely, a face that Adama could not stereotype nor compare. Unaware of her allure, she was ever so enticing; he watched how she moved, elegant, composed.
Swallowing, Bill grinned. Slim pickings my ass.
Crossover looked back to him, a lusty sheen in his hazel eyes as he smirked, “What I tell ya?”
Bill nodded agreeably, brandishing an impish grin, “Do you see those legs?” He let out a low whistle.
“That hair?” Pete added appreciatively.
Bill nodded, keeping an eye on her, “I have to hand it to you Pete, you picked out a fine one…”
“Damn straight. I picked out the best one.” Crossover laughed, letting out a quick breath as he looked back to her, gently slipping a pair of glasses on her nose. He grinned deviously; looking back to his Captain with a boyish twinkle in his eyes, “And glasses too. Rawr.”
Adama sniggered, watching her with a craving glint in those azure hurricanes of his, the sheen fading as he looked back to Crossover, “You picked her Pete. You want her?” Gods, Bill hoped he would decline.
“Are you kidding?” Crossover laughed, “I’d give anything to frak that. But I don’t have a chance. Damn Bill, girls like that don’t go for guys like me.”
Bill grinned, letting out a hoarse laugh, hurting his bandaged abdomen in the process, “Sometimes, you have to roll the hard six, Pete.”
“Now, what the hell does that mean?”
“Sometimes you gotta take a chance…”
“Bah,” Crossover swiped his hand in the air, waving him off, “Easy for you to say…”
Pete looked back to the redheaded goddess quickly, “I’ll whistle at her though.” He sneered playfully, “Right when she walks by, I’m gonna give her a big whistle.”
“Whistlin’ don’t mean anything if you don’t have the balls to follow through.”
Crossover ignored him and went back to staring, for a few minutes he was silent, before he quickly turned back to Bill (who envied his freedom of torso movement), “Gods, Bill, she’s coming this way! What if she’s your nurse? Jeez, some guys get all the luck…”
Bill’s eyes shot open, wide, peering as she came closer. A part of him hoped she wasn’t, for he knew that at such close proximity, he would never be able to relax, but another part of him (the part that was much more persistent) prayed to the Lords that she was his nurse.
Please, please let her be my nurse…
“I bet even you can’t land that girl.” Crossover jabbed with a quirky smile.
“Yeah?” Bill retorted competitively, “Betcha I can, and I will. If she turns out to me my nurse, I’ll show you how it’s done. I’ll play out the ol’ Adama finesse.”
“Hah.” Pete leaned back in his bed, “Adama finesse. Go ahead, Bill, show me how it’s done…’cause here she comes…”
Sure enough, their gorgeous nurse rounded the bend of Crossover’s bed and came between the two. Gods, she was even better looking close up. Bill was composed; cool and collected as she turned to face him, cracking a small smile as he watched Crossover practically drool over his sheets, making some rather obscene gestures behind her back. She loomed over Adama, eyeing the clipboard, and boy, was he getting a great look at her…
“Mr. Adama?” A melodic voice asked, and he tore his attention away, her eyes flitting downward as she removed the clipboard from her view, and her glasses from her nose.
“That’s the name.” He responded, in that husky voice of his, a voice that usually made young women go weak at the knees, letting them fall into his trap and eventually, his embrace. But this one, strangely, seemed virtually unaffected. Bill’s eyes shone torridly. Was that a stern gaze she just cast him? Was that his little admonishment? She set down the clipboard, attending to some apparatus beside his head, not giving him a second glance.
“You know my name, miss, don’t you think I should know yours?”
“I don’t think that’s necessary Mr. Adama.” She responded tersely.
Bill could hear Crossover’s small snickers. His nurse, a burly homemaker, moved to his side and loaded up a syringe. Thank the Gods, that little bastard was going to be sedated soon. If for once, the “Adama Finesse” failed, he would rather no one see.
“Why not?” Adama pressed innocently, a rustic smile on his face, tilting his handsome head on its side.
Those ivy eyes of hers didn’t even bother to look at him as she scribbled something or another on her clipboard, “We don’t need to be on a first name basis, Captain. That’s why.”
“I’m getting the feeling you don’t like me.” Adama smirked.
“No, I just don’t particularly like you.” She breathed quietly, still scrawling something on that damned clipboard.
“I bet I can guess your name…”
She arched a brow, still not glancing up at him, “If that will amuse you, Mr. Adama, by all means…”
“Alright then.” He began confidently, tapping a finger to his chin animatedly, “Is your name…Lucinda?”
Finally, he got her to glimpse at him, “Lucinda?”
“Ok, not Lucinda. How about Ginger?” He suggested, referring to her hair, to which, she looked up fully, with a sardonic smile.
“Funny.” She muttered, gently shaking out her hair before looking back to her board.
“Mary?”
“Do I look like a Mary?” She huffed politely.
“A little.” Bill responded.
“Well,” She paused, “Wrong again.”
“Give me the first letter.” Bill suggested with a swaggering smile.
The nurse set her clipboard back in the crook of her arm, gracing him with a small, sarcastic smile, “This all very amusing Captain, but-…” She took a few steps back, colliding with one of the precariously perched trays atop a cart, sending it and its contents clattering to the ground. She leapt up with a small, shocked jump.
Bill craned his neck. Gods. She’s gonna have to bend down to get all that. Lords, this is not the time to get hard…
Crossover craned his neck, thinking the same thing, without reservation. But before the nameless nurse could even make a bend, Pete’s older nurse bustled about his bed, setting a hand on the redhead’s arm, smiling matronly, “Oh Laura, hon, it’s my fault, I shouldn’t have left my cart there…you could have fallen you poor dear. Let me clean this up.”
She protested, “But I…”
“No, no, dear. You go back to attending to Mr. Adama.” She nudged the girl, grinning wide, “He’s a very famous pilot you know…”
The little nymph smiled demurely at her, a glimmer of pearly teeth flashed before they quickly disappeared. Bill shifted in his bed as Pete’s nurse set the tools back on the tray and wheeled it away, keeping his eyes on his luscious nurse, who’s name he now learned, was Laura. She thanked Crossover’s nurse graciously as she wheeled the cart away, leaving her now-sedated patient slumbering in his bed. Bill’s eyes wouldn’t leave his burgundy-haired nurse, who had gone back to fiddling with some machine or another aside his head.
“Laura, hmm?” Bill cooed.
She gave him a fleeting look before returning to her work, “That’s right.”
“Laura, what?”
Laura sighed, turning to him abruptly with small, graceful smile, “Captain Adama, this really is quite inappropriate…”
Gods, she has a pretty smile. I wish I could see it fully unfurled.
Bill tilted his head boyishly, a rendition of rebellion echoing in his gravelly, baritone voice as he spoke, confident grin still in place, “I’m just asking your last name, Nurse Laura, there’s no harm in that, is there?”
She lifted a lovely brow, a stern expression on her face as the flyboy lay expectantly in his bed, unable to drop that marvelous grin and that immodest sheen in his dark cerulean eyes, as he silently chastised himself for wanting to stroke those legs of hers.
“Roslin.” She responded frankly, “Laura Roslin.”
“Roslin?” He twisted his smooth face, “What kind of name is Roslin?”
Laura frowned crossly, “What kind of name is Adama?” She retorted.
“It’s native Caprican.”
“Well, Roslin, if you must know Captain, is Geminese…”
“Geminese?” Adama scoffed, “You don’t have an accent, you don’t even look Geminese.”
“My father was Geminese; my mother was Caprican.” She answered succinctly, “Are you finished with your questioning, Captain?”
“No, not quite Laura. I’ve just begun actually,” Adama responded playfully, “You absolutely fascinate me.”
“Really? Well, I find you hardly tolerable…”
“Hardly tolerable? Don’t you think that’s just a bit harsh?”
“No not all.” Laura said nonchalantly, “Perhaps not harsh enough. You are absolutely insufferable.”
“Insufferable? How old are you anyway?”
She looked to him darkly, before going back to her work, not bothering to respond to him. Bill smiled, this was getting harder than he anticipated, but Gods, this girl was getting him hot, “C’mon, just tell me how old you are. It’s gonna save you a lot of grief down the road, because I’ll keep pestering you. Just give a dying guy some satisfaction and tell me how old you are, Nursie Roslin.”
“You’re not dying,” She huffed, “You’ve got two broken ribs.”
“That’s not close enough?”
Bill grinned. Did she just crack a smile?
“Come on,” Adama pressed, “Just tell me how old you are…”
“Too young for you.”
“Oh really? I’m only twenty-five.” Bill stated indignantly, “But then again, you do look a little young to be a fully certified nurse…”
“That’s because I’m not.” She smiled, “I’m only eighteen. There’s no way I could be a fully certified nurse…”
Bill’s eyes widened.
Eighteen? What the frak? How is she allowed to be my nurse? Thank the Gods she is…but damn, what if she accidentally kills me?
“If you’re only eighteen, then how the hell are you allowed to be my nurse?”
“The government is issuing a dire need for nurses and I signed up. We don’t need training, we just need instruction…”
“Well, aren’t you a little patriot…”
“No.” Laura smiled softly, “I’m just doing this for the money. I’m saving for college.”
“College?” Adama gave an amused grin, “Why the hell do you want to go to college?”
“To get educated.”
Bill scoffed, at which; she scowled.
“Believe it or not, Mr. Adama, some girls don’t want to settle down and pump out kids immediately after high school…”
Bill sighed heavily, not wanting to be scolded further, “Well, what are you going there for? Out of curiosity…”
“Not that it’s any of your business, but I want to be a teacher.”
Adama grinned, “Why, teaching?”
“Why not teaching?” She knitted her brows.
“Well…”
“Well what?”
“Well it’s kinda funny.” Bill smiled.
“How so?”
“A girl just gets out of school, and then she immediately wants to go back in and end up going there for the rest of her life…” Bill murmured, “When I was in school, all I wanted to do was get out, and stay out.”
“That’s why you’re in the military.” Laura hummed, “And why you’re lying in a bed with two broken ribs…”
“Well,” Bill grinned, “if I wasn’t in the military, and I didn’t break two ribs, I would’ve never gotten the chance to meet you, now would I?”
He felt himself glow. She allowed him a small sincere smile, and a full view of those emerald, shady eyes, injecting him with the syringe. Bill kept his grin, though sheepishly and drowsily, it was beginning to wilt. The medicine was taking its toll, and she began to round his bed, off again.
“See you tommorrow.” He called out drearily.
“I’m sure you will, Mr. Adama.”
“You can call me Bill, y’know!” He shouted after her as she began to leave. And before he drifted asleep, he saw her whip her head back, a full, pretty smile, red hair wrapping around her face, calling out, dashing his hopes and bringing them forward,
“I know Captain,” She called back, “I’d just rather not!”
And that was last William Adama heard before he drifted back into sleep, a smile tiredly fading from his face as it relaxed.
He couldn’t wait for tomorrow, even if Laura did absolutely abhor him.
One thing for sure, he definitely liked her.
Chapter 2: Lovely and Unbearble
“I can’t believe he is actually here!” One nurse squealed.
“Oh, he is so incredibly handsome…” Another dreamily sighed.
“His voice is so sexy, I’d frak his voice box alone!” One added lustily, causing all the petty nurses gathered in the school’s locker room to burst out in incessant giggles.
Laura was on the outside of the social circle, plucking out her belongings from one of the lockers, rolling her eyes at each girlish snort from the clique of witless wonders, socializing after their day was done and the new shift of night nurses were on call. Laura could hardly stand the lot of them, their immature little squeals and their perpetual gossip, their conversations about trivial things like their hair or their shoes or some other cosmetic while the Colonies were suffering under the yoke of war. Laura had mournfully noted that most of these girls were a few years older than her, and she had discovered that she, an academic and studious girl, had virtually nothing in common with these girls other than that they shared the same standard uniform.
William Adama. William Adama. Why he is such a topic? How are they so shallow? He’s a good-looking guy, okay, a very good-looking guy but he’s not a god! He’s arrogant, pompous, audacious, conceited…strangely endearing and charming but otherwise…
“Who’s got him?” One of the nurses questioned zealously.
Laura stiffened, her back to the young women as she picked out the last of her personal belongings, stuffing them quickly into her bag. Thankfully, she doubted that the other nurses had any interest in including her in the conversation. But, she was the one who had Adama, and right now, he was the only thing on their one-tracked minds. Quietly, she began to edge toward the door.
Maybe if I can just slip out…
“She does!” One of the nurses exclaimed. Laura cringed, only inches from the door, a few short centimeters away from freedom.
“Hey Linda!”
Laura turned about, a faux smile politely in place, “Laura.” She corrected.
“Right.” One nurse stormed up to her and grasped onto her arm, trudging with her back into the little circle before letting her go, in the midst of the lion’s den. The little nurse turned on her heel, shaking her short black hair before she crossed her arms before her chest, “Tell us what he’s like.”
“William Adama?” Laura asked innocently, wanting desperately to leave.
“No, your frakking father,” The nurse huffed sarcastically, to the agreeing eye-rolls of her camaraderie, “ Of course, William Adama…”
Laura took a single breath before a blonde interjected, “I met him once!” She exclaimed smugly, causing the others (save Laura) to gasp excitedly and twitter, “Tell us what happened!”
The blonde primped herself up with a haughty grin, greedily taking in their obvious jealousy, “Well we met at Delphi, it was raining and I ran into him. He let me under his umbrella…” She swayed sheepishly.
Many of the girls unleashed a sigh.
“He asked me if I wanted to get dry, and I recognized him immediately of course, so I said yes…”
“And?” The girls leaned forward.
“I asked him whose apartment…” She giggled.
“You didn’t!”
“I did. And then he said he’d give me a rain check, and he kissed me on the cheek when we got under a promenade, and then he left…” The blonde nurse giggled.
Laura stifled a laugh, getting a word in, “But, it was raining…”
The blonde shook her hair angrily, “So?”
Laura took a deep breath, smirking guiltily. Gods, these girls are dense. “Well, he said he’d give you a rain check, and it was raining…” Laura lifted her eyebrows suggestively, trying to let the clueless girl figure it out on her own.
Gods, he dumped you! Blatant, harsh rejection! Gods, you’re stupid.
The blonde stared at her blankly, vacantly, her crystalline cerulean eyes devoid of any glimmer of thought-provoking, logical intelligence. She shrugged, “So?”
The other young women were too wrapped up in their fantasies of Bill Adama to even bother themselves with informing the young nurse of Adama’s obvious refusal of her. Because, truthfully, if any of them ever stumbled upon the famous playboy, they would have reacted the same way, dumb and star-struck. Laura shook her head at the scene, partially amused, partially ashamed of what womanhood had become. Gently, she tried to exit the scene, swiftly duck out the conversation while the girls were daydreaming, with giddy glints of stardust lingering in their glazed eyes. But, as soon as Laura moved out of the circle, her arm was caught and she was dragged back in.
“Linda.”
“Laura.”
“Right, Laura…” The nurse who caught her arm rolled her eyes, “You didn’t answer our question…”
I would have if I hadn’t been interrupted. Gods, I could be home now…
The rest of the nurses broke out of their cogitations to nod their heads eagerly. Laura was trapped, and Gods, all she wanted was to zip out of this little powder-puff hell and back home, to change out of her too-tight uniform, and curl snugly on her couch with her book. She damned the day the Gods gave her Bill Adama to attend to.
Of all men, I had to get Bill Adama…Thank you Lords, did I mention I hate you all?
Looking to the pretty, little faces of all the nurses, Laura repositioned her bag on her shoulder, “What’s Adama like?” She repeated softly.
They nodded fervently.
Laura smirked darkly, “Overbearing, self-centered, dull and stereotypical…and I don’t know how all of you can stand around here talking about a celebrity when there is war racking the Colonies and there’s civil unrest in Sagittaron…”
They all stared at her blankly.
And she happily took that as her cue to leave, snide whispers following her out the door.
“What a priss.”
“She’s just bitter because our William won’t frak her.”
“What a prude…”
“What’s civil unrest?”
Laura Roslin was not like those nurses, and for that, she was thankful.
I don’t hate you Lords. I really don’t. I thank you. I thank you for not making me one of them…
~~~*~~~
It was the next morning. He could tell by the warmth of the light, thick, oozing, and newborn. It drifted on his face, making him pop out a small smile. The pain of his injury had been reduced; he could now be propped up in his bed. Bill Adama had rather grudgingly discovered that his nurse for the night hours was no Laura Roslin. She was a far cry from that girl he had met yesterday. It really was too bad that Miss Roslin was not his nighttime nurse, that would probably amplify his chances at her. Unfortunately, his advances had not gone as well as he expected yesterday.
But, he wasn’t giving up; this girl wasn’t going to be “the one that got away”. Cocky Bill Adama was always up for a challenge, especially for a lass like her. He sat upward, leaning against the metallic headboard of his bed, clutching the issue of Caprican Life that Crossover had abandoned the day before. His companion was still asleep, snoring actually, his mouth slightly agape. If Adama had not been confined to his bed, he probably would have given into his urge to stuff a sock or some other disgusting article of clothing into his open jowls. It was always funny to see their expressions when they woke up…
He chuckled a bit, glancing back to the magazine. He hated these magazines, even in the midst of war; they came up with the most mundane articles imaginable. But there was absolutely nothing to do… Bill had forgotten how much he hated hospitals, and having a hospital in the middle of a high-school gymnasium was even worse. They were both establishments that he was bored with and utterly abhorred.
Funny, how they were both places that Laura Roslin was choosing to work in.
Laura Roslin…
Bill smirked; he liked hospitals just a little bit more than he had in the last minute. Gods, she was the only good thing about the place. And as much as he didn’t like to admit it, he, illustrious womanizer, was actually anxious about seeing her again, antsy really. Gods, he wanted to see her again. Right then, as if the Gods had magically answered his pleas, he heard the clicking of those lovely heels. He went back to staring at the magazine, not reading, not paying attention, acting most nonchalant as Laura Roslin, pretty as ever, rounded the bend of Crossover’s bed, clutching that clipboard of hers against her bosom, staring at him critically.
“The magazine’s upside down, Mr. Adama.” She commented coolly.
Quickly, he flipped the magazine over, “I know.” He responded quickly, glancing up at that lovely face with sharp, blue eyes, a suave, rough voice shielding his absolute mortification, “New technique.”
“Oh, really?”
“Yes, Nursie Roslin,” He chanted, “When you’re in the cockpit and you do a couple barrel rolls, it comes in handy to be able to read things upside down…”
“Oh I see…” She responded brusquely, lifting an eyebrow.
Gods, I love it when she does that…
“So, how are you this fine morning?” He chirped.
“Quite alright, and you?” She responded with an obligatory timbre.
“Excellent.”
“Excellent?”
“It’s always a pleasure to see you Laura.” Bill smiled handsomely.
Laura gave him a small smile, responding aloofly, “You’ve known me for one day Mr. Adama. I doubt it’s that wonderful.”
“Well, I look forward to waking up many mornings to see you.”
Laura cast him a dark look, “Your incessant flirting will do you no good Captain.” She scribbled something on her clipboard, inspecting a few of the monitors.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Miss Roslin.” Adama gasped innocently, “My incessant flirting will probably get me somewhere…”
“Not with me.”
“Oh, so…” Adama let a glint play through his eyes, “You’re not interested in men, are you?”
This time he had pushed her buttons, and he smiled gleefully as she let out an exasperated huff of air, turning to him sharply, “Just because a woman doesn’t find interest in you, Mr. Adama, does not mean she is homosexual.”
“She just has bad taste…”
Laura ignored him and turned back to her work, her eyes gleaming ardently.
Gods, she’s sexy when she’s
…
Bill let a few moments pass, drinking her in, unperturbedly and unabashed. Bill Adama was never known to be tentative. He whistled a small tune, looking back to the magazine, clearly getting on her nerves, as he flipped the pages casually, catching small glimpses of his dazzling nurse with flitting, keen, cobalt eyes.
“So…” He began languidly, “Does it become tedious?”
“What?” She huffed, still not bearing to look at him, her eyebrows crossed as she inspected one of the monitors.
“Dying your hair over and over again.”
Laura cast him a brisk glance, “I do not dye my hair.” She stated irately.
Adama rose his eyebrows tactfully, “Well, no offense, but I’ve never seen a natural redhead with that shade of hair before…”
“Well, I’m an oddity of nature.”
“I bet you’re a blonde beneath that hair of yours…” Adama chuckled, provoking her purposely.
She straightened her posture and crossed her arms before her chest, “I am not a blonde.”
“Yeah, okay, right.” Adama playfully sang, looking back to his magazine, as if he were disinterested.
“No, I’m serious.”
“Okay…”
“I’ll prove it to you.” Laura bristled.
Bill set down the magazine, crossing his arms as he rose his own eyebrows in mock skepticism, “And how exactly are you going to do that?” Adama smiled dashingly, egging her on, hoping she would fall for his little maneuver.
And she did. She walked right into it. Laura ducked her head right below his eyes, “Look,” her muffled voice stated, “my roots are completely untainted.”
“Well, you proved me wrong Laura!” Adama laughed, taking in a whiff of sweet-smelling hair, closing his eyes and letting his tongue slide over his lips, “And, your hair smells fantastic.”
Quickly, realizing his little deception, she brought her head up, glaring at him austerely, burgundy tresses falling messily back in place with the sudden movement of her head. She straightened her posture and pursed her lips, bringing her arms across her chest, stretching the fabric just so over her bosom to make Adama’s breath quicken. And meanwhile, to her dissatisfaction, he sustained that pompous and princely smile on his face, tilting his head to its side.
“You are…” She began, biting her lower lip (much to Adama’s sudden arousal), trying to find the right words.
“I am?”
Laura clenched her teeth, “Unbearable.”
Bill grinned, “Well, it was worth it, Miss Roslin. Hopefully that smell with last me the rest of my lifetime…”
“Which, hopefully, won’t be long…”
“Are you threatening me?” Adama exclaimed, bemused, “Because killing a man will not look good on your teacher’s resume.”
Laura turned back to her work, her shoulders tense, her beautiful green eyes still smoldering, “Your wit absolutely astounds me, Mr. Adama.” She commented sarcastically, “I feel ever-so humbled in the presence of your intriguing, one-tracked mind…”
Bill smirked, watching her as she leant over the desk that separated his bed from Crossover’s, examining the panels, writing on that clipboard, her figure curved sinuously, with her bottom provocatively jutting out, tight against that nurse’s uniform, those beautifully elegant legs, so damned long and shapely, supporting her on the teetering of alabaster heels. Bill could hardly contain himself from not tapping that beautiful ass with his hand, and Gods, was she doing this on purpose? Gods, this girl was a goddess, tempting him, titillating him in the most agonizing way possible, making him about reading to burst (in more than one way) and cry out for her.
Lords, I’ve never been this crazy for a girl. And dammit, she’s the one I can’t have!
Bill Adama swallowed heavily as she erected her posture, wanting desperately to push her back down in that sensuous position, that she was not even aware was so maddening, provocative, so damn enthralling and alluring, making Bill Adama want to completely succumb.
Just then, a metallic clang of a wheeling cart stopped nearby, and Laura turned about, smiling that glamorous smile of hers as she greeted Crossover’s nurse who was veering the breakfast cart about the premises, dropping off meals to all the patients who were up and running. Laura slipped off a tray, exchanging a few words with the genial, affable woman before she took off again, leaving Laura standing there with Bill’s breakfast in hand.
He set aside his magazine; he was famished, and he was hungry (but not only for food). And he smiled apologetically, boyishly, charming as she slid the trait before him with an apathetic glare.
“Look, I’m sorry.” He began, “I just couldn’t help myself.”
“You certainly could have. But all’s done and forgiven, Captain. I’ve decided not to dwell on your pubescent and juvenile antics.” She spoke coldly, but Adama wouldn’t allow himself to “get the hint” and he smiled broadly, taking a fork in hand.
“Well good then.”
Just then, his smile dropped as he glanced down to the “food” in front of him. Honestly, it looked like one of the most inedible meals he had ever seen, and it fully substantiated his theory that even military slop was more appetizing than hospital gourmet. He scowled; letting out a low, disgusted moan, sliding his fork through (what he assumed) was supposed to be eggs. And Laura turned to him with a surprisingly jovial smile,
“What?”
“Look at this stuff.” He groaned.
Laura craned her neck over the tray before shrugging indifferently, “It doesn’t look that bad.”
Adama let out a low, despairing chuckle, “In places like these, if your injuries don’t kill you, the food surely will…”
“Oh, come on,” Laura sighed, taking his fork from his hand and dipping it into the “egg”, “It can’t be that bad. You’re overreacting.” She rolled her eyes casually as she stuck the fork into her mouth. Bill cringed at the sight of it.
For a moment, she had no expression. And then, a sudden wave of pale green seemed to wash over her face as her eyes widened, and she quietly gagged, trying not to heave. The pilot scrunched up his nose as he watched her resist the urge to vomit, gently pushing his tray away from his lap with two fingers.
“I prove my point.” He stated softly, watching as she gave up on trying to swallow and spit the “egg” out on the ground with a grotesque scowl and immediate shudder.
“Ugh.” She uttered, trembling slightly, closing her eyes tight, “That is…that is absolutely inhumane…”
“Didn’t I warn you?”
Laura’s eyes snapped open, “You don’t have to rub it in…”
Bill held up his hands, “Hey, it’s not my fault you didn’t trust me.”
She snatched his tray and placed her heel on the pedal of one of the metallic waste-bins, the lid popping open quickly as she quickly scooped and scraped all of that horrid breakfast away. And then, Laura swiftly set the tray at the end of the bed, and seized her clipboard.
“Where the hell are you going? That was my food!” Bill exclaimed, watching as she hastily prepared to leave him.
And mellifluously, she held her finger to her lips and glanced about warily, “Shut up. Do you want me to get you real food or not, Bill?”
She’s calling me Bill. She called me Bill.
Bill let on a broad smile, “Naughty little nurse aren’t you?”
She rolled her eyes and ignored it, “I’ll be back in twenty minutes.”
And just like that, she spirited away, the sound of her heels melding into the others that flurried and hummed about the gymnasium, as soon as she went out of sight. Bill had to shake his head and smile, wide and soft. That girl was a gem. Even after her toyed with her mercilessly, she was still willing to get him actual food.
Gods, that girl was getting better and better.
Chapter 3: Academia
“You like hamburgers…”
Bill watched with a rather odd fascination as Laura eagerly dug her teeth into the fast-food commodity, watching as she smiled with a quiet satisfaction. She sat by his bed, returning exactly twenty minutes after she said she would, having surreptitiously slid him a wrapped-up hamburger of his own. They shared the packaged fries and a single, chocolate milkshake, which was perhaps sweeter for Bill than for Laura, having the knowledge that she set her lips on the same red and white, stripped straw that perkily jutted up from the thick liquid. Bill, eternally grateful, had finished off his hamburger quickly, and now watched as his nurse greedily feasted on the greasy sandwich. He was mesmerized by it actually, as she avariciously finished it off, licking the tips of her fingers with a small grin, titillating him.
Laura nodded her head, taking a sip of the milkshake, “I love them.” She smiled.
“I’ve never known a girl that liked fast-food that much…”
She shrugged, smirking critically, “They all preferred salads…”
Bill scrunched his lips, “Well…yeah.”
“And I bet they were all stick-thin…”
He shook his head, raising his eyebrows nonchalantly, “You’re stereotyping, Miss Roslin.” He reminded her coyly.
Laura pursed her lips, “They were…weren’t they? All too skinny, ordering salads made of 75 percent water, with zero nutrients to speak of…”
“Why are you griping?” Bill asked, pointing to her waist, “You’re skinny.”
“I prefer the term: slender.”
“What the hell’s the difference?” Bill made a face.
“I’ll tell you what the difference is, Mr. Adama. The difference is that skinny women are skin and bones, slender women do have body fat.” Laura stated candidly, gently crumpling the trash of their meal, stuffing it into the paper bag she had brought it in.
Bill nodded, surrendering the argument, watching her closely as she slid back her chair, plopping the trash into the wastebasket, “Do you always eat fast food?”
“Most of the time.” She responded, rising from her seat, burgundy hair falling over the edges of her face as she glanced to him, “I can’t cook.” She smiled, a full smile, a sincere smile that would have caused Bill to physically melt if he weren’t closely restraining his true emotions and reactions.
“Don’t you have to watch your figure?” Bill asked casually, crushing the empty foil on his bedspread into a small ball.
“Sure, but it’s worth it.”
Bill watched her as she picked up that clipboard again, writing down whatever she wrote down as she inspected those monitors. She looked strangely jovial, casual, actually very happy, not like he had seen her before, frigid and virtually emotionless, with a lingering sadness in those eyes of hers, even when she smiled. But today, right now, twenty minutes later, Laura Roslin actually appeared quite personable and amicable. Bill wasn’t worried that she might slip something in his drink. She was a lovely thing though, even if sometimes he was fearful that she might try to poison him. Laura was much more pleasurable when she was fed.
“I probably shouldn’t say this, seeing as you already have a massive ego,” She began lightheartedly, turning to him, “But most of the nurses are absolutely smitten with you, Captain.”
Not calling me Bill, anymore?
Bill smirked, “I know.”
She rose an eyebrow, her smile starting to fade, “You know?”
Bill put up a finger, gingerly reaching behind his pillow, his hand reemerging with a stack of multicolored memos and notes, releasing them down on the bedspread heedlessly, “Phone numbers.” He commented, “About fifty of them.”
She couldn’t help gasping, her milky face washed over with a bemused grin, reaching out to one of the papers and inspecting the note, trying desperately not to laugh. Bill watched as she read, a smile forever on his chin as her eyes widened. Some of the girls had not been discreet in their letters of affection. Laura tilted her head, setting the note back in place with an amused little sigh, “So, are you going to call any of them? Once the war is over?”
Adama shook his head, “Nope.”
“Well, that’s a bit harsh.” She said bluntly, crossing her arms in front of her chest.
“Why?” He laughed.
“You’re leading these girls on!” Laura snickered, a twinkling little giggle that Bill’s dashing smile widened at hearing. Gods, she was beautiful, and Bill could almost feel his façade dropping for her, for the sake of her. She had the ability to make him melt like no other girl had. At that moment, he would have committed himself to anything for just a promise of her laughter again.
“Well, I can’t help it…” Bill continued.
Laura pursed her lips, olive eyes shining blithely, “Can’t help what?”
“Can’t help if I’m still holding out for a specific girl’s number…”
Her smile dropped faintly; her pale face flushed with a fleeting crimson shade. Or had it just been his imagination? Because no sooner had the blush appeared, it vanished, and her face twisted into that admonishing glare, her pale green eyes scalding with a tired frustration. Laura dropped her arms to her side, letting out a deep sigh as Bill naturally gathered up all the notes and stuffed them back into the apron of his pillow. She was exasperated with his efforts, and he could tell. But Bill was persistent, and he wouldn’t give up; it was obvious that he held contrivance in his words, sincere and charming, quick-witted and bold. He was so close he could taste the cracking of her shell, and she had to break sometime, he had fractured it just now with the song of her giggle and the view of her dazzling smile. Everyone had a limit, a boundary, a threshold, just waiting to be crossed. She was his greatest challenge yet, but curiously, it wasn’t about just frakking her anymore…there was something else he needed, he wanted to give her, to receive…he just didn’t know what. Laura was an enigma.
Bill stared at her apathetically as she plaintively sighed, giving him a fatigued glance, “Captain…”
“I like Bill better, Nursie Roslin.” Bill cut in.
She didn’t say anything for a few moments, rather taking in a few methodical breaths through her nostrils, finally crossing her arms across her chest before she spoke, “I’ll make you a proposition…”
Bill raised his eyebrows suggestively, and she ignored him.
“I will call you ‘Bill’ if you promise to never call me ‘Nursie Roslin’ again.”
He took a few moments to contemplate, “Ah…I’ll have to think about it.”
“Why?”
Bill have her a wide smile, “Because I thoroughly enjoy calling you ‘Nursie Roslin’.”
She glared at him, slitting her eyes as she shook her hair, “You know, Mr. Adama, for being a twenty-five year old man, and eight years my senior, you are exceedingly sophomoric…”
“I take pride in it.” Bill retorted calmly, “And you know, Nursie Roslin, for being a eighteen year old girl, you have an exemplary vocabulary…” He smiled amusingly.
“Like I said before Captain, I am an oddity of nature…”
“Well if you’re an oddity of nature, I’d like to see what a monstrosity looks like…”
He was pissing her off, and he had to smile. She was lovely was she was flustered. Laura planted her feet in the ground and took in a deep breath, looking toward the ceiling with a fuming irritation, before she finally gathered herself and looked back to him, “Have you ever even considered our age difference?”
Bill scoffed, “What age difference?”
“Consider this: when I was eight, you were sixteen, when I was ten, you were eighteen…” Laura huffed, “That’s the age difference.”
“But you’re an adult now…” Bill added.
She stared at him sharply, “I can tolerate you, Mr. Adama; I might even actually like you. But please, just give up.”
Bill grinned. Not a chance. He raised his eyebrows, prodding her with his nonchalant tone, “You like me?”
“Sort of.”
“Well that’s better than nothing.” Bill shrugged, “At least I’m not insufferable anymore…”
“Oh, no, you’re still insufferable…you’re just less so than before.” Laura rebuked.
The Captain smirked to himself. Leaning back on the metallic headboard, he picked up a random magazine and flipped through its pages with a self-gratifying smile. He had to be getting somewhere. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched her get back to scrawling notes on her clipboard, feeling a comfortable sort of calm linger in the air.
“Laura?”
“What?”
Bill took in a deep breath, “I accept that proposition of yours…”
He could see her smile, “I knew you would.”
A few timid footsteps approached the foot of his bed, and Bill looked up from his magazine to see a tall, scrawny kid with dark, combed hair, fidgeting about, with timorous mahogany eyes hidden behind a pair of spectacles. He was boyish and academic, with a polished, scholarly appearance and a cobalt bow tie, pens tucked into the single pocket at the right side of his chest. He gulped heavily, and stared nervously from Bill, who looked straight at him, to Laura’s back as she inspected the monitors. He was obviously intimidated, and by the looks of him, he was probably intimidated by a squirrel. Bill raised an eyebrow at the stranger who fretfully took a taunt breath and looked to Laura.
“L-Laura?” He stammered, his voice smooth and polite.
Bill lowered his eyebrows. Who the hell is this guy?
Laura turned about at the sound of his voice, and to Bill’s surprise, she beamed and set down her clipboard, “Bernard!” She exclaimed sweetly, “I’m so sorry, I completely forgot.”
“Umm…L-Laura, we’re running a little late. I waited out front for you but…” Bernard fidgeted and clamored for a steady voice, but was clearly failing as he looked at Bill, staring at him gravely with those daunting, dark cerulean eyes. Laura glanced to Bill, casting him a dark glare, before looking back to Bernard, who smiled uneasily, “I’ll be right out Bernard, just wait out front.”
Bernard smiled uneasily and nodded his head, quickly scuttling away and across the gymnasium. Bill looked to Laura with a raised brow, “Bernard? Who the hell is that?”
She rolled her eyes at his sudden, abrasive tone, “He happens to be the guy I’m seeing, Bill.”
“Bernard?” His eyes widened, “You’re seeing Bernard?” Bill swallowed, how the hell did a guy like Bernard get a girl like her? It seemed at that moment, everything he once knew was hitting the fan. That kid was easily the most dweebish kid he’d seen since high school, and yet, he was Laura’s significant other. How the hell did that make any sense?
She has got to be kidding me…
“Yes, Bernard.” She said defensively, setting her clipboard in the crook of her arm.
“Why?”
“Why not?”
“Well…well…” Bill stammered excitedly, motioning rapidly with his hands, to which, Laura shifted her weight and pursed her lips, “I mean…come one Laura! That guy?”
“Yes.” Laura snapped, “He happens to be a very sweet guy.”
“Oh yeah,” Bill said sardonically, “With a guy like that, I bet you’re really living on the edge.”
Laura slit her eyes, “We happen to have very much in common.”
“The most you two have in common is that you have two arms and two legs.”
“We both are going to same college, we both want to be teachers, and we both enjoy reading for pleasure.” Laura recited.
“I like reading.” Bill stated adeptly.
Laura cast him a sarcastic glare, “Caprican Kink does not count as reading material, Bill.”
“No, seriously. I have an extensive collection.”
She crossed her arms, casting him a surprisingly coy smile, eyes glittering over as she shifted her weight severely to the side, raising one of those shapely eyebrows, “Oh really?”
Bill nodded, “Yes, Miss Roslin. Really.”
“Prove. It.”
Bill scowled, “How the hell am I going to prove it?”
“That’s your problem.” Laura smirked, beginning to round his bed.
He erected his posture, and craned his neck after her, “Alright, alright. I have, uh, Nihilism, The Sagittaron Exploits, Dark Day…”
“You have Dark Day?” Laura shifted her position, resting both hands at the end of his bed, smiling quietly, clearly impressed with his apparent wealth of academic volumes.
Bill smiled, “Yes, I do. It’s a very good book.”
“My, my Captain, I’m impressed.” Laura chimed sweetly, “Who knew that Bill Adama, famous Viper pilot, actually enjoys to read…”
“Well you know now.” Bill stated, picking up his magazine, “I’d get going, you don’t want to make Bernard late. The little bastard might have an aneurysm.”
He heard it, sudden and restrained, a small little giggle and he looked up from his magazine to see that pretty, little goddess smiling at him.
“You know, Bill…”
“What?” He responded apathetically, glancing back to the magazine.
“After the war is over, I want to see it.”
Bill eyes widened, as he set down the magazine, smirking devilishly, “See what?”
She rolled her eyes, as he assumed she would, “You’re collection, Captain. I might have to borrow that book from you…”
“I’ll give it to you.” Bill muttered, “Never lend books.”
“Alright. I’ll hold you to it.”
“I’m counting on it.”
And with that, he looked back to his magazine, wincing slightly as heard her heels echo, the reverberations in his ears growing fainter as she left. Adama could hardly set his eyes on the words, he couldn’t concentrate, and he couldn’t focus on a single word and drink it in. He huffed out a breath of air; he had made a complete fool of himself just now, carrying on, letting his “cool” attitude drift away for a fit of madness, a sequence of jealousy. Bill couldn’t help it; he was jealous. He was insanely jealous. And it only drove his craving for her further. Could he get no rest from her effect, the sweet little virus that had infected him ever since he first saw her?
The Captain seriously doubted there was any cure for him now.
The first and last thing he thought of was always the same, always the same name, diffusing his façade, heightening his nerves:
Laura.
Gods, I hope I never have to leave this hospital bed.