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misscamLove and Simplicity: A Murder on Galactica 1/2
by Camilla Sandman
Summary: It started like it always did. With a body. It wasn't Laura Roslin's. But it was clearly intended to be. [Adama/Roslin, Tigh, some Kara/Lee, tiny Helo/Athena, Baltar, Doc Cottle]
Rating: Teen. Some adult activities, nothing too explicit.
Disclaimer: Not my characters, just my words.
Author's Note: Set post-Blood on the Scales, pre-Deadlock. With BSG's timeline being a little confused, I'm just mushing this in there as if it belongs. Ahem. There is a reworked Babylon 5 line in here, you'll know it if you see it. I owe much thanks to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
falena84 and lotus79, who both pushed, begged, mocked and helped me with this story. Many thanks to lyricalviolet for beta.
II
It started like it always did. With a body.
This one was on Galactica, and it was hard to tell she had once been beautiful. What she had, the bullet had fast taken away from her, stolen her life and the colour in her skin.
All that we are, or that we think we are, all that we are certain about, is taken away from us. When you see the end of the world, you become more convinced of it every day.
William Adama is, standing over a dark-haired woman's body in the President's temporary quarters and trying not to think at all.
It isn't Laura Roslin. But it was clearly intended to be, and his heart by association.
It started like it always did, with a body. It would end as if often does too.
With another.
II
It's a strange thing to have two murders targeting you, Laura Roslin thinks, and there's something almost amusing in the thought.
Cancer, or unknown attacker. Why would either bother if the other could just do the job?
Bill has been giving the details of the discovery in such an even voice most would probably consider him calm. She does not. She can see his eyes and him, and she wants to lace her fingers in his hair and kiss him until he isn't seeing her body as the one dead instead.
Later, she thinks, and folds her hands to keep them steady.
"Nia Catelony," she says softly. "She was there to gather a few things for me I'd left behind."
"The attacker might not have known you're not staying there anymore," Tigh says, and she half expects him to comment on where she is staying, but he doesn't.
"It is possible," she agrees. Who would have thought the President would move in with the Admiral, sharing bunk, hearts and morning algea coffee?
Not Saul Tigh, she's pretty frakking sure. But then, neither did the President or the Admiral to begin with. It simply happened.
"We'll have to look at motive," she says, keeping her voice even.
"Perhaps it's someone displeased with what we found on Earth," Tigh suggests.
"That would only narrow it down to 40,000," she quips, and both men give her a look. Tigh's is for a moment amused, Bill's is just stern.
"I don't think Galactica's brig could hold them all," Tigh says dryly. "I will narrow it further, Madam President."
"You?" Bill asks before Laura can say anything, and his tone makes her fingers curl a little.
"Me," Saul Tigh simply says, and meets Laura's gaze briefly. "You're too close, Bill."
A breath, and she thinks for a moment Bill means to challenge it, then he merely nods.
Too close, she thinks and Bill's eyes are so blue as they meet hers in a silent look. Yes.
Much too close.
II
There are two ways of killing someone.
Taking their life, or taking what they have to live for.
Admiral Adama lives (mainly) for the President, his son and his ship.
It's hard to kill Galactica. The other two can be managed.
II
When Saul has left, Laura walks up and embraces him; Bill nuzzles his face against her neck as she puts her arms around his.
They don't say anything for a long time, just hold.
II
Colonial One still feels like her ship, Lee thinks. Laura Roslin's, for all Gaius Baltar claimed it for a while and even briefly Tom Zarek.
She might have passed it on to him now, but he can still feel her presence here and even sometimes his father's, faintly.
He's never wanted to replace either but he has been a military commander, and now he is doing a president's work, as if he's a joint project between them. They're good at those, except when they're not. (Zarek and Gaeta's mutiny, for one.) Survival for the Fleet has been an ongoing one, now the project seems to be a life between them.
Lee isn't jealous. Not really. He can be happy for them, and a little awkward about it at the same time.
He just wishes he knew how they made love so simple; all he ever seems to kiss is complications.
II
Colonel Tigh doesn't say much as the body is rolled into sick bay for autopsy, but Cottle is a doctor and knows bodies; their language too.
Trouble. Other than the one thousand troubles they already have.
Some days, he really hates this life.
Other days, he just helps people to have one.
II
"It must be someone with access on Galactica," Laura reasons, and she thinks Bill nods; it's hard to tell when he's tracing kisses along the side of her neck, almost in sync with her pulse. "Has there been anyone speaking up against me lately?"
(Later than Earth, she thinks.)
"They wouldn't dare," he says firmly, hands soft against her cleavage as he opens the buttons in her shirt.
(Oh, but they would, she knows. They did, against her and Bill both.)
"Bill," she says, sliding her shirt off and to the floor, "you know..."
"I know," he cuts in, and he kisses her slowly and thoroughly until she can feel his chest rise and fall a little raggedly under her hand. "Laura..."
"I'm here," she whispers, a reassurance to herself as much as him. "I'm right here."
(For now, she doesn't say.)
II
"Colonel Tigh!"
Tigh doesn't exactly look happy to see him, Lee reflects, almost as if he is a walking root canal about to happen.
He'll try not to take it personally.
"Vice President," Tigh acknowledges, pausing in the hallway just long enough for Lee to catch up and join in. "How can I help the civilian government today?"
"A body was found in the President's temporary quarters," Lee says, and Tigh shoots him a look that manages to be annoyed, a little impressed and mostly unwilling to comment all at once.
"It's not Laura Roslin."
"She's not staying there, I know. But it would seem she is the likely target."
"Maybe."
"That makes it a civilian matter too."
"No," Tigh says firmly. "You're not joining the investigation."
"I have different sources. A lot of pilots still talk to me, and several ship captains have networks I could..."
"The Old Man won't like it."
"He's not my commanding officer anymore."
"The President won't like it either."
Lee smiles faintly. "She'll think it the wrong thing to do. But she did want me to try those more often."
Tigh eye him for a moment, as if weighing his words, then nods a little curtly. "You'll follow my lead. No trying to be hero Apollo, sleuth top gun."
"Yes, sir," Lee says, trying to keep amusement out of his voice and suceeding just barely.
Tigh's gaze is strangely soft for a moment. "You'll never be an expert at wrong. You're the Old Man's son. Get a second-in-command to cover that field instead."
II
"Zarek," Laura says, arching her back a little as Bill lowers her on the blankets, his mouth at a breast and her fingers in his hair. "Zarek would have wanted me dead."
"Zarek is dead. I think that qualifies as an alibi," Bill mutters as he lifts her head, and she meets his eyes for a moment before they both laugh.
(It isn't really that funny, but it feels good to laugh and the universe isn't exactly offering up a lot of reasons to.)
"One of Zarek's many 'friends', then."
"Discussing who would want to kill you is not much of a turn-on, Laura," he says, but he still lifts her knee to kiss it. She slides it across his side, coming to rest against his hip as he leans over her.
"You're managing," she simply observes, but the look he gives her is a little hurt. "Sorry. I guess I've read too many murder mysteries to resist one in front of me."
"Why do you love mystery novels?" he murmurs, and it's hard to formulate an answer in her head when his fingers is making her buck slightly, even as they're careful in their strokes.
"Figuring it out," she finally replies, kissing him a little sloppily as he chuckles, the sound reverberating against her tongue. "Why do you?"
"Because they can be figured out," he says, and she thinks of all the things that can't be lately and before that, so much before too. "They're simple."
Bill likes it simple, and she watches the muscles on his arms flex as he puts weight on them rather than her, adjusting his body over her. She lifts herself up as he slides into her, pausing to watch her face for any discomfort. His jaw is clenched with the effort, and she lifts her hand to touch it for a moment before pulling his head down to kiss him, biting down lightly on his lower lip when his body moves again.
Simple, she thinks. Bill loves Laura and Laura loves Bill, and everything else is complications. Cancer. Earth being frak all. Strains on Galactica. Cylon-human relations. Post-mutiny issues.
They can have their murder mystery without those.
II
"She got shot and died," Doc Cottle says, blowing some smoke, and Lee watches it curl and rise until it flattens out, as if hitting an invisible roof.
"They give you medical degrees for that?" Tigh asks, and Lee knows that tone. It's the bastard tone, and Tigh has perfected it over years of use.
"They give medical degrees for telling you there were two shots, both from behind," Cottle simply replies, not rising to anything. "Victim was standing at the first shot. She had fallen for the second, so it must have been fired several seconds later."
"Making sure she was dead," Lee says, and both men give him a look as if they'd even forgotten he was there.
"You're the detectives, you figure it out," Cottle says calmly, blowing more smoke. "I'm just the certified doctor."
II
Post-coital with Bill is starting to feel a little bit like an argument, Laura thinks, and she really shouldn't be feeling like hitting him with a book so close to having frakked him.
"No," she says, folding her arms. "I am not staying here like a prisoner until the Colonel completes his investigation, I am especially not taking Centurion bodyguards and I'm not having you babysit me. I'm not, Bill. I won't take any unnecessary chances, but I'm not letting a killer take half my life already."
"I'm not babysitting," he says, his palm sliding across her elbow and up her arm in a motion that is very distracting to the argument she is determined not to let him win. "I'm partnering."
"Partnering?"
"You and me," he says, words so light on his tongue, "and a murder mystery."
"You were never going to let the Colonel look into this alone, were you?" she asks, already knowing the answer.
"No," he says, and his lips are warm as they slide across hers. "Neither were you."
II
"No guards at her temporary quarters," Tigh says thoughtfully, watching marines walk down the hall. "The Old Man would have called them off after she moved into his quarters."
"Is it common knowledge she has?" Lee asks, trying not to remember how he found out. Some things should not be walked in on.
"That's a good question, Apollo. Is it?"
"I'll ask around," Lee offers, pulling up his note book. He might have to make a trip to the Astral Queen too, he figures, see what the mutineers might have known as well. This could be connected to the mutiny, for all his father won't like that.
"Notebook," Tigh says, tilting his head. "You have a magnifying glass in there too?"
"I'm just..." Lee starts, and Tigh waves it off.
"Yes, you're methodical and by the book, you always were. But you're not seeing me in a frakking hat and pipe, so forget it."
Impossible to get that image out of his head now, Lee thinks.
II
Laura has never considered herself a cloak and daggers woman, but dressed in some of her more casual clothes, she can't help but feel a small thrill.
Bill is out of uniform too, but carrying a weapon at his side and even without Admiral's pips, he still carries authority in his skin. It's enough to convince the marine guards not to follow them, but it's not helping much with looking incognito, at least to her.
Still.
It's a little thrill and a little reckless, and Bill's thumb is stroking hers slowly as they walk hand in hand, not attracting too many glances. Or perhaps the crew are too polite to comment, given the Adama stare they're likely to get for it.
"You really think we should talk to him?" Bill grumbles, and she can tell he's not exactly ecstatic about her idea. Come to think of it, neither is she.
"He's Baltar," she says, "who else will think he knows everything and will be eager to prove it?"
II
It's a hard choice, Lee reflects, between the Admiral's displeasure and the Colonel's. He doesn't envy the two marines currently getting a lecture from Tigh about letting the Admiral and the President walk out without an escort.
They were obeying orders, but that's not holding up much.
"My father is not one to hide," Lee observes, remembering. "Neither is Laura."
"I'm going to ground them both," Tigh says, marching out and Lee rather thinks he would.
In the brig, if necessary.
II
For a moment, Baltar thinks he's dreaming.
There's a comfortable bed, as there should be. There are women, and that's the stuff his dreams are made of. There's Laura Roslin, and that happens too sometimes, though she usually doesn't bring the Admiral to watch.
Admiral Adama doesn't look too impressed. Or too Admiral, without his uniform, and this isn't a dream, Baltar realises. Neither one is looking like they're about to kiss him. This is waking up, and he has visitors.
Laura waves, and all Baltar can think of is waving back.
II
Lee has exactly two thoughts when he hears the shot.
The first is that he can't really be mistaken for Laura Roslin, surely, and if so, he's never wearing red shirts again.
The second is just 'oh, frak'.
II
Starbuck sleeps by Sam's side sometimes, as if waking by him could be waking with him. Between sleep and awake is a moment of hope, and she finds herself resenting every noise that takes her from one state to the other too fast.
She hates the sound of rushed feet into sickbay.
She hates it even more when she finds out it's Lee, just having been shot at.
II
"I'm flattered you would come to me, Madam President," Baltar says, and Laura can tell that indeed, he is. That's good. He's easier to handle then, and she'll flatter him as much as she can stand, because Bill is going to be totally useless at it.
She thinks she loves him a little for that too.
"I would not want you taken from us too soon," Baltar goes on, and she smiles a little sarcastically at him.
"Likewise," she offers.
"As a good citizen of the Fleet I will of course do my part in solving this crime," Baltar says, and Bill makes a noise that might be a snort. "A lot of people listen to me, I could put out a few feelers."
She inclines her head. "We would be grateful."
She can almost see Baltar pat himself on the back, and even more so at his next words. "Whatever protection I can offer is also yours. I have a few with experience as body guards, they would be more than happy to follow you, Madam President. Very discreetly. I could even..."
"No," Bill says, and his look is one of stone. He rises, and she rises a second later, feeling his hand come to rest on her back, just a little possessively.
She doesn't need a bodyguard, she thinks. She rather already has one, and Baltar seems to realise the same from the way he looks at her.
"We look forward to hearing from you," she says sweetly, and he actually smiles genuinely. It isn't just the flattery, she realises. He does want to help.
He's just still Baltar about it.
II
"Ow," Lee says, gritting his teeth a little. "Ow."
"It's just a glancing wound, don't be a baby," Cottle says, tying off the last stitch. In fact, no one seems particular impressed with his wound, Lee notes. Tigh is scowling at him, as if daring to get shot while with him is just plain rude, and Kara is hovering in the background with a look on her face that suggests murder.
He just hopes it isn't of him.
"Any sign of the shooter?" he asks, and Tigh shakes his head.
"I got marines out looking. It would be easier if we had a better description."
"It's a bit hard to see when you got your back to," Lee defends himself with, wincing at the prick of a needle. Cottle doesn't seem particularly impressed with that either.
"Hmm," Tigh just says, and sounds distracted.
"I'm targeted, Laura is targeted – an attack on the civilian government?" Lee asks, and he can see Tigh has considered that, but is considering something else now.
"What are you thinking?"
"I'm thinking what ties you both together is the Old Man," Tigh says, and Lee feels a cold prickle down his neck.
II
The metal of Galactica is a little hard against her back she leans against it, but it holds, and that seems more than enough to ask of it of late, Laura thinks.
She knows what Bill worries about, and even if he hadn't told her, she would have known from the lines on his face and the sometimes lingering taste of alcohol on his breath.
He's earned peace more than anyone she knows, and the portion of it he finds in her fills her with quiet joy. She just wishes there was more. For both of them.
"Joe's bar," she repeats thoughtfully.
"Some might have overheard drunken ramblings," Bill says, and she nods. "A lot of the crew go there."
"I wish I had seen more of your ship," she says, a little wistfully even to her. All they've been sharing of late, and Galactica should be a part of it. It's important enough to Bill for that.
"I'll show you," he says, touching her cheek as he leans into her. "Joe's bar first."
"It's a date," she replies, and he smiles slowly, taking years off his face.
Galactica at her back, Adama at her front, like an embrace twice, she thinks, and Bill's kiss is so very gentle.
II
Lee doesn't make a sound of protest when she pulls him into a corner and drags a curtain to cover the view, but Kara can see the question marks on his face like little wrinkles, reminding her a little of his father.
Lee is going to get to that age, and anyone who has issues with that can get frakked.
A bullet's taking Sam from her, and another came inches away from claiming Lee. Bullets. Just metal, but just flesh can't stop them.
"Lee," she says angrily, kissing him with all aggression that isn't really targeted at him. "Don't you dare get frakking murdered."
"I am trying not to," he says when she pulls back for a moment, and it only makes her attack his lips again, keeping him in place with a hand clutching his tie.
"Don't try," she says harshly. "Do." Live.
She can feel his eyes on her as she walks away, but she doesn't look back.
She has some heads to smack together.
(To be concluded in part two.)
by Camilla Sandman
Summary: It started like it always did. With a body. It wasn't Laura Roslin's. But it was clearly intended to be. [Adama/Roslin, Tigh, some Kara/Lee, tiny Helo/Athena, Baltar, Doc Cottle]
Rating: Teen. Some adult activities, nothing too explicit.
Disclaimer: Not my characters, just my words.
Author's Note: Set post-Blood on the Scales, pre-Deadlock. With BSG's timeline being a little confused, I'm just mushing this in there as if it belongs. Ahem. There is a reworked Babylon 5 line in here, you'll know it if you see it. I owe much thanks to
falena84 and lotus79, who both pushed, begged, mocked and helped me with this story. Many thanks to lyricalviolet for beta.II
It started like it always did. With a body.
This one was on Galactica, and it was hard to tell she had once been beautiful. What she had, the bullet had fast taken away from her, stolen her life and the colour in her skin.
All that we are, or that we think we are, all that we are certain about, is taken away from us. When you see the end of the world, you become more convinced of it every day.
William Adama is, standing over a dark-haired woman's body in the President's temporary quarters and trying not to think at all.
It isn't Laura Roslin. But it was clearly intended to be, and his heart by association.
It started like it always did, with a body. It would end as if often does too.
With another.
II
It's a strange thing to have two murders targeting you, Laura Roslin thinks, and there's something almost amusing in the thought.
Cancer, or unknown attacker. Why would either bother if the other could just do the job?
Bill has been giving the details of the discovery in such an even voice most would probably consider him calm. She does not. She can see his eyes and him, and she wants to lace her fingers in his hair and kiss him until he isn't seeing her body as the one dead instead.
Later, she thinks, and folds her hands to keep them steady.
"Nia Catelony," she says softly. "She was there to gather a few things for me I'd left behind."
"The attacker might not have known you're not staying there anymore," Tigh says, and she half expects him to comment on where she is staying, but he doesn't.
"It is possible," she agrees. Who would have thought the President would move in with the Admiral, sharing bunk, hearts and morning algea coffee?
Not Saul Tigh, she's pretty frakking sure. But then, neither did the President or the Admiral to begin with. It simply happened.
"We'll have to look at motive," she says, keeping her voice even.
"Perhaps it's someone displeased with what we found on Earth," Tigh suggests.
"That would only narrow it down to 40,000," she quips, and both men give her a look. Tigh's is for a moment amused, Bill's is just stern.
"I don't think Galactica's brig could hold them all," Tigh says dryly. "I will narrow it further, Madam President."
"You?" Bill asks before Laura can say anything, and his tone makes her fingers curl a little.
"Me," Saul Tigh simply says, and meets Laura's gaze briefly. "You're too close, Bill."
A breath, and she thinks for a moment Bill means to challenge it, then he merely nods.
Too close, she thinks and Bill's eyes are so blue as they meet hers in a silent look. Yes.
Much too close.
II
There are two ways of killing someone.
Taking their life, or taking what they have to live for.
Admiral Adama lives (mainly) for the President, his son and his ship.
It's hard to kill Galactica. The other two can be managed.
II
When Saul has left, Laura walks up and embraces him; Bill nuzzles his face against her neck as she puts her arms around his.
They don't say anything for a long time, just hold.
II
Colonial One still feels like her ship, Lee thinks. Laura Roslin's, for all Gaius Baltar claimed it for a while and even briefly Tom Zarek.
She might have passed it on to him now, but he can still feel her presence here and even sometimes his father's, faintly.
He's never wanted to replace either but he has been a military commander, and now he is doing a president's work, as if he's a joint project between them. They're good at those, except when they're not. (Zarek and Gaeta's mutiny, for one.) Survival for the Fleet has been an ongoing one, now the project seems to be a life between them.
Lee isn't jealous. Not really. He can be happy for them, and a little awkward about it at the same time.
He just wishes he knew how they made love so simple; all he ever seems to kiss is complications.
II
Colonel Tigh doesn't say much as the body is rolled into sick bay for autopsy, but Cottle is a doctor and knows bodies; their language too.
Trouble. Other than the one thousand troubles they already have.
Some days, he really hates this life.
Other days, he just helps people to have one.
II
"It must be someone with access on Galactica," Laura reasons, and she thinks Bill nods; it's hard to tell when he's tracing kisses along the side of her neck, almost in sync with her pulse. "Has there been anyone speaking up against me lately?"
(Later than Earth, she thinks.)
"They wouldn't dare," he says firmly, hands soft against her cleavage as he opens the buttons in her shirt.
(Oh, but they would, she knows. They did, against her and Bill both.)
"Bill," she says, sliding her shirt off and to the floor, "you know..."
"I know," he cuts in, and he kisses her slowly and thoroughly until she can feel his chest rise and fall a little raggedly under her hand. "Laura..."
"I'm here," she whispers, a reassurance to herself as much as him. "I'm right here."
(For now, she doesn't say.)
II
"Colonel Tigh!"
Tigh doesn't exactly look happy to see him, Lee reflects, almost as if he is a walking root canal about to happen.
He'll try not to take it personally.
"Vice President," Tigh acknowledges, pausing in the hallway just long enough for Lee to catch up and join in. "How can I help the civilian government today?"
"A body was found in the President's temporary quarters," Lee says, and Tigh shoots him a look that manages to be annoyed, a little impressed and mostly unwilling to comment all at once.
"It's not Laura Roslin."
"She's not staying there, I know. But it would seem she is the likely target."
"Maybe."
"That makes it a civilian matter too."
"No," Tigh says firmly. "You're not joining the investigation."
"I have different sources. A lot of pilots still talk to me, and several ship captains have networks I could..."
"The Old Man won't like it."
"He's not my commanding officer anymore."
"The President won't like it either."
Lee smiles faintly. "She'll think it the wrong thing to do. But she did want me to try those more often."
Tigh eye him for a moment, as if weighing his words, then nods a little curtly. "You'll follow my lead. No trying to be hero Apollo, sleuth top gun."
"Yes, sir," Lee says, trying to keep amusement out of his voice and suceeding just barely.
Tigh's gaze is strangely soft for a moment. "You'll never be an expert at wrong. You're the Old Man's son. Get a second-in-command to cover that field instead."
II
"Zarek," Laura says, arching her back a little as Bill lowers her on the blankets, his mouth at a breast and her fingers in his hair. "Zarek would have wanted me dead."
"Zarek is dead. I think that qualifies as an alibi," Bill mutters as he lifts her head, and she meets his eyes for a moment before they both laugh.
(It isn't really that funny, but it feels good to laugh and the universe isn't exactly offering up a lot of reasons to.)
"One of Zarek's many 'friends', then."
"Discussing who would want to kill you is not much of a turn-on, Laura," he says, but he still lifts her knee to kiss it. She slides it across his side, coming to rest against his hip as he leans over her.
"You're managing," she simply observes, but the look he gives her is a little hurt. "Sorry. I guess I've read too many murder mysteries to resist one in front of me."
"Why do you love mystery novels?" he murmurs, and it's hard to formulate an answer in her head when his fingers is making her buck slightly, even as they're careful in their strokes.
"Figuring it out," she finally replies, kissing him a little sloppily as he chuckles, the sound reverberating against her tongue. "Why do you?"
"Because they can be figured out," he says, and she thinks of all the things that can't be lately and before that, so much before too. "They're simple."
Bill likes it simple, and she watches the muscles on his arms flex as he puts weight on them rather than her, adjusting his body over her. She lifts herself up as he slides into her, pausing to watch her face for any discomfort. His jaw is clenched with the effort, and she lifts her hand to touch it for a moment before pulling his head down to kiss him, biting down lightly on his lower lip when his body moves again.
Simple, she thinks. Bill loves Laura and Laura loves Bill, and everything else is complications. Cancer. Earth being frak all. Strains on Galactica. Cylon-human relations. Post-mutiny issues.
They can have their murder mystery without those.
II
"She got shot and died," Doc Cottle says, blowing some smoke, and Lee watches it curl and rise until it flattens out, as if hitting an invisible roof.
"They give you medical degrees for that?" Tigh asks, and Lee knows that tone. It's the bastard tone, and Tigh has perfected it over years of use.
"They give medical degrees for telling you there were two shots, both from behind," Cottle simply replies, not rising to anything. "Victim was standing at the first shot. She had fallen for the second, so it must have been fired several seconds later."
"Making sure she was dead," Lee says, and both men give him a look as if they'd even forgotten he was there.
"You're the detectives, you figure it out," Cottle says calmly, blowing more smoke. "I'm just the certified doctor."
II
Post-coital with Bill is starting to feel a little bit like an argument, Laura thinks, and she really shouldn't be feeling like hitting him with a book so close to having frakked him.
"No," she says, folding her arms. "I am not staying here like a prisoner until the Colonel completes his investigation, I am especially not taking Centurion bodyguards and I'm not having you babysit me. I'm not, Bill. I won't take any unnecessary chances, but I'm not letting a killer take half my life already."
"I'm not babysitting," he says, his palm sliding across her elbow and up her arm in a motion that is very distracting to the argument she is determined not to let him win. "I'm partnering."
"Partnering?"
"You and me," he says, words so light on his tongue, "and a murder mystery."
"You were never going to let the Colonel look into this alone, were you?" she asks, already knowing the answer.
"No," he says, and his lips are warm as they slide across hers. "Neither were you."
II
"No guards at her temporary quarters," Tigh says thoughtfully, watching marines walk down the hall. "The Old Man would have called them off after she moved into his quarters."
"Is it common knowledge she has?" Lee asks, trying not to remember how he found out. Some things should not be walked in on.
"That's a good question, Apollo. Is it?"
"I'll ask around," Lee offers, pulling up his note book. He might have to make a trip to the Astral Queen too, he figures, see what the mutineers might have known as well. This could be connected to the mutiny, for all his father won't like that.
"Notebook," Tigh says, tilting his head. "You have a magnifying glass in there too?"
"I'm just..." Lee starts, and Tigh waves it off.
"Yes, you're methodical and by the book, you always were. But you're not seeing me in a frakking hat and pipe, so forget it."
Impossible to get that image out of his head now, Lee thinks.
II
Laura has never considered herself a cloak and daggers woman, but dressed in some of her more casual clothes, she can't help but feel a small thrill.
Bill is out of uniform too, but carrying a weapon at his side and even without Admiral's pips, he still carries authority in his skin. It's enough to convince the marine guards not to follow them, but it's not helping much with looking incognito, at least to her.
Still.
It's a little thrill and a little reckless, and Bill's thumb is stroking hers slowly as they walk hand in hand, not attracting too many glances. Or perhaps the crew are too polite to comment, given the Adama stare they're likely to get for it.
"You really think we should talk to him?" Bill grumbles, and she can tell he's not exactly ecstatic about her idea. Come to think of it, neither is she.
"He's Baltar," she says, "who else will think he knows everything and will be eager to prove it?"
II
It's a hard choice, Lee reflects, between the Admiral's displeasure and the Colonel's. He doesn't envy the two marines currently getting a lecture from Tigh about letting the Admiral and the President walk out without an escort.
They were obeying orders, but that's not holding up much.
"My father is not one to hide," Lee observes, remembering. "Neither is Laura."
"I'm going to ground them both," Tigh says, marching out and Lee rather thinks he would.
In the brig, if necessary.
II
For a moment, Baltar thinks he's dreaming.
There's a comfortable bed, as there should be. There are women, and that's the stuff his dreams are made of. There's Laura Roslin, and that happens too sometimes, though she usually doesn't bring the Admiral to watch.
Admiral Adama doesn't look too impressed. Or too Admiral, without his uniform, and this isn't a dream, Baltar realises. Neither one is looking like they're about to kiss him. This is waking up, and he has visitors.
Laura waves, and all Baltar can think of is waving back.
II
Lee has exactly two thoughts when he hears the shot.
The first is that he can't really be mistaken for Laura Roslin, surely, and if so, he's never wearing red shirts again.
The second is just 'oh, frak'.
II
Starbuck sleeps by Sam's side sometimes, as if waking by him could be waking with him. Between sleep and awake is a moment of hope, and she finds herself resenting every noise that takes her from one state to the other too fast.
She hates the sound of rushed feet into sickbay.
She hates it even more when she finds out it's Lee, just having been shot at.
II
"I'm flattered you would come to me, Madam President," Baltar says, and Laura can tell that indeed, he is. That's good. He's easier to handle then, and she'll flatter him as much as she can stand, because Bill is going to be totally useless at it.
She thinks she loves him a little for that too.
"I would not want you taken from us too soon," Baltar goes on, and she smiles a little sarcastically at him.
"Likewise," she offers.
"As a good citizen of the Fleet I will of course do my part in solving this crime," Baltar says, and Bill makes a noise that might be a snort. "A lot of people listen to me, I could put out a few feelers."
She inclines her head. "We would be grateful."
She can almost see Baltar pat himself on the back, and even more so at his next words. "Whatever protection I can offer is also yours. I have a few with experience as body guards, they would be more than happy to follow you, Madam President. Very discreetly. I could even..."
"No," Bill says, and his look is one of stone. He rises, and she rises a second later, feeling his hand come to rest on her back, just a little possessively.
She doesn't need a bodyguard, she thinks. She rather already has one, and Baltar seems to realise the same from the way he looks at her.
"We look forward to hearing from you," she says sweetly, and he actually smiles genuinely. It isn't just the flattery, she realises. He does want to help.
He's just still Baltar about it.
II
"Ow," Lee says, gritting his teeth a little. "Ow."
"It's just a glancing wound, don't be a baby," Cottle says, tying off the last stitch. In fact, no one seems particular impressed with his wound, Lee notes. Tigh is scowling at him, as if daring to get shot while with him is just plain rude, and Kara is hovering in the background with a look on her face that suggests murder.
He just hopes it isn't of him.
"Any sign of the shooter?" he asks, and Tigh shakes his head.
"I got marines out looking. It would be easier if we had a better description."
"It's a bit hard to see when you got your back to," Lee defends himself with, wincing at the prick of a needle. Cottle doesn't seem particularly impressed with that either.
"Hmm," Tigh just says, and sounds distracted.
"I'm targeted, Laura is targeted – an attack on the civilian government?" Lee asks, and he can see Tigh has considered that, but is considering something else now.
"What are you thinking?"
"I'm thinking what ties you both together is the Old Man," Tigh says, and Lee feels a cold prickle down his neck.
II
The metal of Galactica is a little hard against her back she leans against it, but it holds, and that seems more than enough to ask of it of late, Laura thinks.
She knows what Bill worries about, and even if he hadn't told her, she would have known from the lines on his face and the sometimes lingering taste of alcohol on his breath.
He's earned peace more than anyone she knows, and the portion of it he finds in her fills her with quiet joy. She just wishes there was more. For both of them.
"Joe's bar," she repeats thoughtfully.
"Some might have overheard drunken ramblings," Bill says, and she nods. "A lot of the crew go there."
"I wish I had seen more of your ship," she says, a little wistfully even to her. All they've been sharing of late, and Galactica should be a part of it. It's important enough to Bill for that.
"I'll show you," he says, touching her cheek as he leans into her. "Joe's bar first."
"It's a date," she replies, and he smiles slowly, taking years off his face.
Galactica at her back, Adama at her front, like an embrace twice, she thinks, and Bill's kiss is so very gentle.
II
Lee doesn't make a sound of protest when she pulls him into a corner and drags a curtain to cover the view, but Kara can see the question marks on his face like little wrinkles, reminding her a little of his father.
Lee is going to get to that age, and anyone who has issues with that can get frakked.
A bullet's taking Sam from her, and another came inches away from claiming Lee. Bullets. Just metal, but just flesh can't stop them.
"Lee," she says angrily, kissing him with all aggression that isn't really targeted at him. "Don't you dare get frakking murdered."
"I am trying not to," he says when she pulls back for a moment, and it only makes her attack his lips again, keeping him in place with a hand clutching his tie.
"Don't try," she says harshly. "Do." Live.
She can feel his eyes on her as she walks away, but she doesn't look back.
She has some heads to smack together.
(To be concluded in part two.)
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Date: 2009-04-09 02:56 pm (UTC)That is a frakking fabulous line.
I love how this is unfolding, the tone and style of it are hypnotic.
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Date: 2009-04-09 03:08 pm (UTC)<3
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Date: 2009-04-09 03:32 pm (UTC)I'm eager to read part two. :)
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Date: 2009-04-09 03:41 pm (UTC)you definitely should write more of this. can't wait for the next part!
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Date: 2009-04-09 03:48 pm (UTC)However, I now have the image of Tigh with a pipe and he's looking a bit like Douglas Macarthur. Yeah, I'm going to be paying attention in my WWII class....pfft. <3
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Date: 2009-04-09 04:11 pm (UTC)And Zarek's alibi is indeed really good hihih ^_^
Great work!!
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Date: 2009-04-09 04:18 pm (UTC)Looking forward to more!
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Date: 2009-04-09 04:23 pm (UTC)And Good Omens FTW, truly.
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Date: 2009-04-09 04:24 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-04-09 04:24 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-04-09 04:48 pm (UTC)Thanks, and part two will be posted tomorrow sometime :)
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Date: 2009-04-09 04:50 pm (UTC)I have finished it, I am just posting it in two parts because it got a bit long. The conclusion should be up tomorrow some time.
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Date: 2009-04-09 04:56 pm (UTC)And thank you - sorry for sticking that image in your head, though :P I was more going for Tigh-as-Sherlock.
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Date: 2009-04-09 04:57 pm (UTC)Thank you!
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Date: 2009-04-09 04:59 pm (UTC)And thank you :) I must admit Adama and Roslin discussing a murder mystery while frakking was about the first scene I wrote, as it really appealed to me for some reason. My own love for the genre, I think.
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Date: 2009-04-09 05:00 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-04-09 05:03 pm (UTC)you should do a series or something ;) lol i am now addicted to happy a/r fic with cool-ass plots.
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Date: 2009-04-09 05:07 pm (UTC)I will review as soon as I, you know, read the thing, but I just wanted to compliment you on your perfect timing. :D
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Date: 2009-04-09 05:16 pm (UTC)Heh, maybe - next up is a Doctor Who/BSG crossover I've finished though, but I'll see what I can do after.
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Date: 2009-04-09 05:17 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-04-09 05:36 pm (UTC)And I'm sorry, but my review still consists simply of a huge SQUEE.
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Date: 2009-04-09 05:40 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-04-09 05:45 pm (UTC)don't really watch the show, but i read anything that's bsg right now. :)
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Date: 2009-04-09 05:49 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-04-09 05:51 pm (UTC)Lots of quotable and memorable lines that made me awww or grin. High entertainment and distraction value.
Giving you the drift of it:
"That would only narrow it down to 40,000," she quips, and both men give her a look. Tigh's is for a moment amused, Bill's is just stern.
When Saul has left, Laura walks up and embraces him; Bill nuzzles his face against her neck as she puts her arms around his.
They don't say anything for a long time, just hold.
"She'll think it the wrong thing to do. But she did want me to try those more often."
Post-coital with Bill is starting to feel a little bit like an argument, Laura thinks, and she really shouldn't be feeling like hitting him with a book so close to having frakked him.
There's a comfortable bed, as there should be. There are women, and that's the stuff his dreams are made of. There's Laura Roslin, and that happens too sometimes, though she usually doesn't bring the Admiral to watch.
Laura waves, and all Baltar can think of is waving back.
Looking forward to the rest.