This is my first attempt in this fandom, so please be kind... I havent quite decided if I want to expand on this or not...maybe you guys can help me decide? Neither characters are mine, I'm just playing with them :)

He wasn't coming back…and she couldn't say that she blamed him. She had insinuated things, said things to him that she wouldn't normally, spiteful things. Although he had managed to lob some pretty hurtful remarks back at her.

She should have known better, should have expected that he would be irritable, if not a little on the edge. She thought back to his stiff and aloof demeanor as he poured himself a glass of ambrosia, adding to the few he had already consumed. His cold and unresponsive face; his eyes no longer a sharp, clear blue but seemingly grey with thought.

You're enjoying that more than usual…

She should have known by the look he gave her over the rim of his glass that tonight was not the night to pick a fight. But since when has Laura Roslin ever backed down from a fight? She needed…they needed to release the tension somehow, so in a moment of childish enjoyment, she baited him.

She knew that his nerves were already frayed from Lee's party and Kara's reappearance, but she couldn't just leave well enough alone. She never stopped to consider how tiring the entire ordeal had been on him, the week in fact, nothing had seemed to slow since Kara had come screaming back into their lives.

Laura knew that he was in deep conflict with himself, whether to be overjoyed at the return of his daughter or to be wary of her intentions. She played on the one thing that never failed to raise the hairs on the back of his neck…religion, or his lack of belief in said topic.

I want to hear Admiral Atheist say that a miracle happened…

With the great restraint he seemed to always insufferably possess, he shrugged off her attempt at an argument, suggesting that even she had a little doubt in the explanation of Kara being a possible Cylon or one of their pawns. Looking back on it now, she supposed he was right, deep down inside of her she knew that couldn't possibly be Kara's fate.

His calm, self reassured tone caused Laura to bristle with annoyance. Why couldn't he understand, why couldn't he see past his emotions into the big picture?

As she sat on his couch some time later, in his darkened quarters, listening to the hum of the engines on his ship…she realized she had never felt more alone or out of place. He had left hours ago, and yet she had failed to get any other reports read, her mind constantly flitting back to their exchange.

What am I saying? She questioned her self; the word exchange implies it was pleasant…

No this conversation definitely wasn't pleasant…in fact it wasn't even cordial. Once they started hurling the painful jabs, neither was able to stop, no matter how far they went; they had to show each other up. Until it finally came down to the wire, and in an effort to make Bill understand, to make him see, she had pulled out the big guns.

She threw her mortality in his face, seeing the hurt and fear settle subconsciously in his eyes as he ran a shaking hand though his graying hair. Hardening her self to his reaction she pushed forward, she knew he needed to hear this; maybe it would help him to understand why she couldn't fully bring herself to trust his judgment on Kara.

My life is coming to an end soon enough…

I am not going to apologize to you for not trusting her.

You are so buckled up inside. You can't take any more loss…

Your son leaving…this…me... I know it.

She couldn't let his personal feelings dictate how they would handle this situation, and she told him so directly. As she continued to explain to him, to relate to him and his pain, he continued to dull the truth with the help of alcohol. She was sure the substance he continually swirled in his glass had something to do with way he was acting tonight. He was choosing to ignore the problems, to live in his own perfect little world, as the walls of reality began to crumble. In all honesty it seemed the safest place to be at the moment.

She became frustrated with him at this point, they were friends…at least she liked to think so, and with that relationship came the privilege to confide in each other. Here she was trying to breakthrough the walls he had put up, to share his pain and burden, but she was repeatedly stilted for her efforts.

You want to believe Kara.

You would rather be wrong about her and face your own demise…

Than risk losing her again.

It was then that she saw the change in him immediately. He no longer exuded the calm and collected façade of the Admiral, after all this argument had ceased to be professional some time ago, it was now personal. Instead she saw the indignant and stubborn Bill Adama surface to meet her, and she knew she had crossed a line. For the first time in their friendship she watched his eyes harden as he swiftly turned his back on her, on the situation, and strode purposefully to the water cart to refill his drink. He chose the alcohol over her.

Then as the tears pooled in her eyes she thought to her self how absurd this was; if the situation wasn't so grim it would be laughable. She didn't realize the words had left her mouth until there was no taking them back.

You're so afraid to live alone.

She saw him stiffen out of the corner of her eye, taking a cleansing breath before turning back to her. He rose to the challenge, and without missing a beat, challenged her back.

And you're afraid to die that way.

Seeming to have opened the floodgate, his thoughts began to roll from his mouth, aiming to hurt her and meeting their mark. He didn't notice the pain written on her face…or maybe he was beyond caring at this point.

You're afraid that you may not be the Dying Leader you thought you were.

Laura stiffened at the insinuation, her shoulders and back straightening. Her tongue was burning with the strength of the resentful comeback, when he uttered the final words.

Or that your death may be as meaningless as everyone else's.

Game. Set. Match. Bill had officially won the argument with an underhanded comment of his own. She could feel the tears filling her eyes even before she heard the clink of the glass stopper being forcefully inserted into the decanter. She felt the air escape her lungs as he lumbered towards the hatch, slowly but with purpose. As the click of the door reverberated through the rooms to reach her ears, she felt a shiver race down her back.

Trying to suppress the melancholy that stubbornly refused to leave her body, and the embarrassing tears that came with it, Laura resolved her self to finishing the reports and heading to bed. Studiously ignoring the burning in her eyes and the ache in her heart, she placed her glasses on her face, and then ran a trembling hand through her hair.

Suddenly she felt the tension in her fingers give way and then her hair become slack. As she slowly drew her hand away from her curls, she stared in abject horror at the sizeable amount of auburn locks enclosed within her fingers. This coupled with everything else, was what finally caused Laura to breakdown and cry her desperately needed tears…ones she had been suppressing for some time now. As she laid her head upon her neatly folded hands, on top of his untidy desk, she gave her self over to her emotions and just let the tears flow.

I guess your aim isn't the only thing Diloxan fraks with…