Chapter Text
The first time Billy Keikeya noticed the tremor in Laura Roslin’s hand, she was standing in the observation deck aboard the Battlestar Galactica, staring out into the endless black beyond the glass.
The fleet drifted in silence.
Thirty-nine thousand souls.
What remained of humanity.
Billy stood a respectful distance behind her with a stack of reports tucked under his arm, trying not to look exhausted after another twenty-hour day. Since New Caprica, since the escape, since everything they had survived together, exhaustion had become permanent. Everyone aboard Galactica wore it differently. Some buried it under anger. Some drowned it in work. Some hid it behind jokes.
Laura Roslin carried hers quietly.
“You haven’t slept,” Billy said softly.
Laura didn’t turn around. “Neither have you.”
“That’s different.”
A faint smile touched her face. “Because?”
“Because you’re the President.”
“And you’re my chief aide, which means you’re equally doomed.”
That got a tired laugh out of him.
For a moment neither spoke. The stars reflected dimly in the glass, pale silver against darkness. Billy had once thought space looked beautiful.
Now it mostly looked lonely.
Laura finally turned toward him, and the overhead lights caught the sharpness in her face. She’d always been slender, but lately there was something fragile about her that frightened him. Her cheeks were thinner. Her skin carried a waxy exhaustion she couldn’t entirely hide anymore.
And then there was the cough.
Short.
Controlled.
Suppressed.
But there.
Billy swallowed his worry and held out the reports. “Fuel projections from the refinery ships. Also updated civilian housing complaints.”
“Exciting reading.”
“You could delegate.”
“You say that every day.”
“And one day you’ll listen.”
She took the folders from him carefully. Too carefully. Like they weighed far more than paper should.
That tremor returned briefly in her fingers.
Billy noticed.
Laura noticed him noticing.
Silence stretched between them.
Then she looked away first.
“Is Doctor Cottle still waiting for you?” Billy asked quietly.
Her expression hardened almost immediately. “I canceled.”
“Madam President—”
“I’m busy.”
“You’ve been coughing blood.”
The words came out sharper than he intended.
Laura’s jaw tightened.
Billy immediately regretted it.
But not enough to stay silent.
“You nearly collapsed during the quorum meeting yesterday,” he continued more gently. “You’re getting weaker.”
“And yet civilization continues to function.”
“Barely.”
Another cough interrupted her before she could answer. This one hit harder. Laura pressed a fist to her mouth and turned away.
Billy’s stomach dropped.
When she lowered her hand, there was blood.
Just a little.
But enough.
“Laura…”
“It’s fine.”
“It’s not.”
She closed her eyes briefly, exhausted beyond words. For a second the President disappeared, leaving only a very tired woman standing alone beneath cold fluorescent lights.
Billy stepped closer carefully, lowering his voice.
“You don’t have to do this alone.”
Her expression softened at that.
That was the problem with Billy Keikeya. He cared too much.
From the beginning — from the moment the colonies burned — he had stayed beside her through everything. Political collapse. Assassination attempts. Kobol. Cancer. New Caprica. Mutiny. Prophecy.
He had seen her at her strongest and weakest.
And somewhere along the line, Laura Roslin had stopped thinking of him as merely an aide.
He felt like family.
Like the son she never had.
Laura reached up tiredly and touched his arm.
“You worry too much.”
“You say that like I’m wrong.”
“I say that because I’m old enough to be your mother.”
Billy’s face softened instantly. “Sometimes you are.”
The words hung in the air.
Laura looked genuinely startled for a moment.
Billy flushed slightly, suddenly embarrassed, but it was true. Gods, it was painfully true.
She had guided him through impossible decisions. Protected him. Argued with him. Believed in him. Trusted him. When the universe had fallen apart, Laura Roslin had become the center holding pieces together — including him.
Laura’s eyes glistened faintly before she blinked it away.
“Billy…”
“You don’t have to pretend with me,” he said quietly.
That nearly broke her.
He could see it.
The fear she buried beneath duty.
The exhaustion.
The pain.
Cancer had returned before, but this time it was different. More aggressive. Harder to fight. Even the chamalla treatments barely helped now.
Laura looked away again toward the stars.
“I’m tired,” she admitted at last.
Billy’s chest tightened painfully.
Not because of the words.
Because of how defeated she sounded saying them.
He stepped beside her at the glass.
“You know what Kara said to me yesterday?”
Laura gave him a wary look. “That’s usually a dangerous beginning.”
Billy smiled faintly. “She said if you die, Admiral Adama will probably punch someone through a bulkhead.”
Laura actually laughed softly at that.
“Sounds like Bill.”
“She also threatened to shoot anyone who upset you.”
“That also sounds like Kara.”
As if summoned by the universe itself, the hatch behind them suddenly opened.
“Who sounds like Kara?”
Kara Thrace strode into the room carrying two mugs of terrible Galactica coffee and the confidence of someone who believed rules were optional suggestions.
Her eyes landed immediately on Laura.
Then on Billy.
Then on the faint traces of blood Laura hadn’t fully wiped away.
Kara’s expression changed instantly.
“What happened?”
“Nothing,” Laura answered too quickly.
Kara narrowed her eyes. “Right. And I’m a cylon nun.”
Billy sighed. “She skipped another medical appointment.”
“Billy.”
“Nope,” he said firmly. “I’m done helping you avoid this.”
Kara pointed at him approvingly. “Good. Peer pressure. Love it.”
Laura looked betrayed. “You two are impossible.”
“We learned from the best,” Kara shot back.
Billy noticed something then.
Laura wasn’t annoyed.
Not really.
She looked… cared for.
And maybe that mattered more than anything.
Kara handed Laura one of the coffees before leaning casually against the railing.
“Adama’s looking for you,” she said.
Laura immediately straightened slightly. “Why?”
“He’s pretending it’s about fleet security. Which means it’s probably about you.”
A softness flickered across Laura’s face at the mention of William Adama.
Billy noticed that too.
Everyone did.
Even after all these years, there was something unfinished and aching between them. Love wrapped in grief and war and timing that never quite aligned.
Kara smirked knowingly.
“You should go before he starts pretending to yell at people.”
Laura rolled her eyes, but the corners of her mouth lifted slightly.
Then another wave of dizziness hit.
Billy caught her instantly.
One second she was standing.
The next her knees buckled.
“Laura!”
Kara dropped her coffee immediately and grabbed her other arm.
Laura tried to recover, embarrassed and breathless, but she was pale now. Too pale.
Billy’s panic surged hard.
“That’s it,” he snapped. “Medical bay. Now.”
“I’m fine—”
“You can barely stand.”
Kara didn’t even argue. “I’ll call Cottle.”
Laura looked furious at both of them.
Which only confirmed how frightened she really was.
Billy kept one arm securely around her as they guided her toward the hatch. She leaned against him more heavily than she probably realized.
And for the first time since the colonies fell…
Billy Keikeya was truly afraid he might lose her.