Chapter Text
The leaves were just beginning to turn and Saul was sitting outside on an overturned bucket, whittling. He'd discovered he was surprisingly good at it for a guy with one eye and it definitely kept him occupied here on Earth, when he wasn't working. It took some adjustment, sure, to live without technology, but after a little over a year, he was mostly used to the way this society had turned out.
They'd split into a number of villages and Saul and Ellen had settled in one of the larger ones, close to the mountains. Much of their livelihood came from farming, but there were plenty of other jobs to do, including construction—they were constantly figuring out how to improve their building structure and, even now, people were still moving out of temporary structures and into real houses.
Saul sighed and leaned back against the wall of the house. He wasn't sure what this carving was going to be—he usually let the wood decide, but today, it wasn't being too cooperative.
That was when he noticed movement on the ridge high above the village.
At first, Saul thought it might be an animal, but the more he watched it, the more obviously human (or Cylon) it became.
Nobody should have been up there. Who was that?
Unless...
No. He couldn't even think about thinking about that. He was gone and Saul was just starting to accept that…
Already, though, Saul was on his feet, shading his eye from the sun, getting his hopes up against his better judgment. He knew Bill's movements, didn't he? You didn't stare at a guy for thirty years and not memorize the way he walked, the way he carried himself.
It was definitely, probably, Bill.
His first, panicked, thought was that he looked injured. But, no, it was just the rocky terrain. There was a reason nobody from the village ever went that way, but there'd be no way for Bill to know.
Gods, Saul had thought he was dead, had assumed he would never see him again, not after a year with no contact. How had he even known where they'd settled?
Saul let out the breath he'd been holding with a wheeze. He wanted to run to him, embrace him, tell him how much he'd missed him… but if Bill was up there, something had to be wrong.
"What is it?" Ellen asked, coming from the door.
Saul could only point.
"My God," she murmured and Saul twitched. Even now, he hated hearing her say that.
Up on the ridge, Bill stumbled and caught himself on an exposed tree root.
"Should I go get him?" Saul heard himself ask.
Ellen looked at him like he had two heads. "Of course you should, Saul, look at him! That's your best friend! Why would you even hesitate?"
Relief washed over him. Part of him had been hesitating for her.
"I'm going," he said gruffly, stepping in to grab his jacket. Once he had done so, he started running. The full weight of what he'd seen was just hitting him. Bill. Bill.
Bill was alive.
He offered up a silent prayer of thanks to the gods. He didn't care about the stares he got as he tore through town. All he cared about was reaching Bill before he hurt himself even more than he already was.
He was already a few feet from him, but Bill didn't seem to notice him. He was still slowly making his way down the slope, moving precariously from handhold to handhold. Before Saul could react, Bill put his foot on a patch of loose dirt, sending him tumbling helplessly. Saul lunged to catch him, just barely grabbing hold of him before he fell out of reach.
"Whoa," Saul said. "Watch it, okay?"
Bill looked up at him in disbelief. If Saul didn't know him so well that he had recognized his movements, he would never have known who it was. Only the eyes were a giveaway, still as blue as ever. His hair hung limply around his face, and he had a regular wild man beard going on. He was still gaping at Saul, as if he didn't quite believe his eyes.
"Hey," Bill finally said. Saul gripped his shoulders tighter. He didn't quite believe it either. Bill felt so thin. "It is you, right?"
"'Course it's me." Saul slipped Bill's arm around his shoulders, supporting him, and grabbed Bill's pack. "C'mon, let's get you home."
"Home," Bill repeated. His voice sounded odd and disused. "That's your and Ellen's house."
Well, at least his grammar hadn't suffered. That was a good sign. "Yup," Saul said. "That's me and Ellen's house."
**
When they got there, Saul was surprised to see how concerned Ellen looked. "Bill, are you all right?"
"I'm fine." He gave what was probably meant to be a reassuring smile, but it looked too much like a grimace. "Just thought I'd come for a visit."
He still had a faraway look in his eyes and Saul could only guess at how the past year had been for him. Laura was obviously gone, and probably closer to that year mark. It would still hurt, though, he knew that from experience.
He had her back and it still hurt, remembering that time.
"You need a bath," Ellen said briskly, and Saul was thankful for her ability to take charge of the situation like that when Saul was too overcome by emotion.
Bill. Bill was alive and right here in front of him. But he couldn't have Saul falling all over him right now. Ellen gave Saul a knowing look. Gods, did he love her. She understood.
Bill was following Ellen out to where she'd already prepped the hot tub. "Why don't you head over to the market, Saul?" she said to him. "Bill could use some more clothes. Your things won't fit him."
Saul was out the door, not needing to be told twice.
**
Bill wasn't quite sure what Ellen was up to, but he was too tired to care. The long walk in the hot sun and the multiple falls he'd taken in his climb had taken a lot out of him.
He'd been in the Raptor until it ran out of fuel; after that, he'd had to choose, taking only the stuff he could carry, which had been books and things that reminded him of Laura, not food or water. He hadn't been thinking straight, probably hadn't been thinking straight for a few weeks now. He wasn't sure what was wrong with him, but he was pretty sure something was. Maybe he was starting to crack.
There couldn’t be any other explanation for why he was letting Ellen Tigh strip him and stick him in a tub.
He sank into the water and sighed.
"That feel good?" she asked him.
"Yeah." He couldn't remember when he'd last had a hot bath.
"Ready?" she asked.
When he nodded, she poured a pan of water of his head.
"Do you want me to cut your hair?" she asked.
"No thanks." He'd actually gotten used to having it this long and thought he'd miss it if it were cut.
She made a noise that sounded a bit like disapproval. He hadn't realized Ellen cared about the length of his hair. "I'll just wash it then."
Bill grunted his assent to this and Ellen began to scrub at his damp hair. For the first time in a long time, Bill felt himself begin to relax. Her fingers on his scalp really did feel good…
At least he was still together enough to realize how absurd this scenario was. A year ago, he'd have laughed. A year ago…
Ellen tugged on a knot in his hair and Bill blinked back tears.
**
Saul had an armful of clothes and the promise to bring vegetables and do favors in trade for them, but somehow his feet just weren't carrying him home.
Why was he so nervous? Didn't he want to see Bill?
He paused in front of a stall selling books. Maybe he ought to bring Bill a book. Bill liked books.
"Can I help you?" the seller asked.
"Oh, uh." Saul bit his lip. "Do you have any mysteries?"
"We have an extensive collection," she said. "Some are particularly rare." Saul considered one of those, but then remembered the book Bill had been reading to Laura. Maybe that would bring up memories that were too painful?
"And these are our thrillers," the woman went on. Saul gravitated toward what looked like a series, all with a Viper pilot on the cover. Maybe Bill would like these?
"That's a very good choice," she said, noticing his interest. "And that is one of my rare complete series."
"I'll take them," Saul said, trying not to sound too eager, in case that drove the price up. (He'd been burned by this new barter system in the past.) "We have a vegetable garden."
She nodded thoughtfully. "So do we."
Saul sighed inwardly. He'd been holding back on this, but for Bill, he might as well. "I work construction detail."
"My daughter's house needs a new door."
"Done."
They shook on the deal and she gave him a sack for the books. "You know," she said, "our roof needs work, too—I could give you these, as well."
"Sure." Another large stack went into the bag. Saul didn't know what kind of books they were but he knew Bill would read anything if he was bored enough.
By the time he got home, it was getting late and he was struggling under the weight of all his packages.
Ellen came to meet him at the gate. "Where have you been?" she asked.
"Shopping," Saul said. Wasn't that obvious?
She shook her head. "Come on in, but be quiet. Bill's asleep."
Ellen had made Bill a bed on the cot in the living room and he was wrapped up tight in his blankets. All Saul could see was the top of his head.
"Is he all right?"
"More or less. He ate dinner and went right to sleep but he isn't sick, just tired and a bit sunburned."
Saul watched him sleep for a few moments. Ellen stayed next to him the whole time, which surprised him—she seemed to be taking a lot more care of Bill than Saul had expected.
"Come on," she said quietly, "your dinner's in the kitchen."
Ellen sat across the table, watching him as he ate. She must've eaten with Bill. Odd.
"So," he said to break the silence, "how is he really?"
"Oh, Saul." She had an expression Saul had never seen on her face when talking about Bill. "He's obviously heartbroken. He's been alone for so long it was almost like he'd forgotten how to interact with people."
"Did he say why he came to us?"
She shook her head. "He didn't say much at all."
Saul looked down at his dinner, suddenly no longer hungry.
"But he's here," she said, laying a reassuring hand over Saul's. "We'll do what we can, Saul."
He met her eyes. "You're really serious about this, huh?"
Ellen smirked. "Oh, Saul, don't you think we've come far enough that we don't have to worry about that anymore?"
"I know, I know." He squeezed her hand. "Just never thought you liked him."
"I think he needs all the friends he can get."
Saul nodded, feeling better about this. There was no question he loved Bill, wanted to help him. But he knew how much that had bothered Ellen over the years, him always seeming to pick Bill over her. And then, Bill had just vanished, taking away Saul's having to choose…
"Tomorrow, we'll see how he's doing," she went on. "We can decide what to do from there."
Saul stood and stretched. "Seems like he just needs to be around other humans again." He stopped when she gave him a look. "Oh, you know what I mean. Sure, we're not humans, but he is."
Something flashed across her face but it could have been his imagination. "Of course," she said. She stood and slipped her arm around his waist. "Let's go to bed, Saul, it's late."
He kissed her. "Have I told you lately how lucky I am to have you?"
Her head fell onto his shoulder. "You can tell me again."
"I am so frakking lucky to have you."
"Mm." She smiled at him. "You can show me…"
"Oh, c'mere." He scooped her up, despite her protests and carried over into their bedroom, kicking the door shut behind him.
**
Breakfast the next morning was quiet, which was fine by Bill. He was still sizing up the situation, trying to figure out how he fit in here. How long did they want him to stay? Was he going to be getting in the way?
Saul and Ellen didn't seem to know what to say either. Small talk seemed inappropriate, and they couldn't really ask how his year had gone—not that he'd tell them.
Finally, Saul finished eating and got up. "Well, I'm off to work. Guess I'll see you two later." The look he gave Bill was an order from the XO, a you'll be here when I came home, just in case you were thinking of moving on.
Bill had been, actually, but he nodded and went back to his oatmeal.
After breakfast, he helped Ellen clear the table. He hadn't counted on this part of the awkwardness, spending all day home with Ellen. He decided he ought to at least engage her a bit in conversation.
"So, what does Saul do?"
"Construction." Ellen handed him a dishrag and began pumping water to the fill the sink for washing. "They go around to people who need work done or houses built and do it."
"So, who lives around here?"
"There are a lot of civilians in our village, a few Cylons. The Agathons are here and so's Doc Cottle, of course." She went on to name a few people Bill didn't know. He wondered if he'd ever get to know them, how long he could manage to stay. Lee was out there somewhere, wandering around. Maybe Bill could do the same thing?
Ellen went on describing their lifestyle, the school, the hunting parties, the farms and community cropshares. It all sounded very nice to Bill as he dried the dishes. Just not for him. Not for people who were on their own.
"So," she said finally, "how long…?"
Bill froze, cup in his hand. He lowered his head, letting his hair fall in front of his eyes. "About a year now," he said softly. "It was that day."
He didn't have to explain what had happened. Ellen immediately took the mug from him and enveloped him in a hug.
"Oh, Bill, I'm so, so sorry."
He stood there stiffly until she stepped back.
"Can you say what brings you down here?" she asked tentatively.
He shook his head. "Don't know. Just thought I'd come."
She nodded. "Why don't you get some fresh air? Saul has a place outside he likes to sit and watch the world go by."
Bill couldn't get out of the kitchen fast enough.
Once outside, though, he wasn't sure quite what to do. He tried sitting on Saul's bucket, but that quickly got boring.
Maybe he should check out the town, see what people were up to. It did feel good to stretch his legs and get some sun.
As he walked, he could see that the town was really coming along. So much had happened in the year he'd been alone. It was like the world had gone on without him. People building houses, settling in, getting work, starting families… And they didn't need him to do it.
He passed a cluster of former deckhands, talking by a pole with a large bell on it—something to call the community together? Bill stuck his hands in his pockets and let his hair fall forward over his shoulders. They gave no indication of recognizing him.
He sighed. Maybe he really was ready to be put out to pasture.
He continued his circuit of the town, now half-hoping to encounter somebody who'd know him, but mostly hoping he didn't. He liked being invisible, after having been the admiral for so long. It was a strange feeling, being anonymous.
He was startled out of his reverie by a mechanical-sounding noise around the corner and a shout.
"Get your hands off me, you frakking toaster!"
Then, a very familiar bellow: "Is that how you thank the guy who just saved your ass?"
Bill sidled around the edge of what appeared to be the school (oh, gods, would she be working here if…?) and looked.
There was some construction going on in an empty lot, centered around what appeared to be a crude pile driver. Saul was standing on the platform, struggling against the hold Figurski had on him as he let out a stream of curses at the man on the ground.
Dave Gibson. Gods, was it really him? Had he survived all these years?
Gibson had been their boss all those years ago on that frakking freighter and Saul had hated his guts. The feeling had been mutual, too. Now, here they were stuck working together.
Bill couldn't hear all of the argument. Figurski was doing an admirable job of what had been Bill's job thirty years ago—trying to calm down an angry Saul.
It seemed that thirty years and a Cylon apocalypse had done nothing to temper the loathing between Saul and Gibson.
Bill realized Saul would probably be mad if he knew Bill had witnessed this. He turned and went back the way he'd come.
Well, at least he wasn't the only person who was miserable.
**
Ellen stood at the window, watching Bill. He'd come home a few hours ago and was now sitting on Saul's overturned bucket, staring at the mountains in the distance. She desperately wanted to go out and talk to him, but what would she say? He wouldn't want to talk to her, she was sure of that, but…
She was the only one who could help him.
Yes, of that she was definitely sure.
She had been worried about this for some time now, especially after he'd vanished. She had, under no circumstances, expected him to come back. Now that he had, the first thing she'd thought of was this: it had already started and Ellen wasn't sure she could stop it.
She heaved a frustrated sigh and pushed her hair back from her face. She couldn't tell Saul and she definitely couldn't tell Bill.
She'd have to do something about it on her own.
**
She didn't like not telling them. It felt dishonest, even if it was just a lie of omission. She and Saul had pledged to be honest with each other and this really wasn't helping.
But, oh, neither of them would take it well at all.
Which was why she was in the darkened living room, crouching over Bill Adama's sleeping body. She had to do this carefully or she'd have to explain herself...
Gingerly, she slid her fingers into his hair and pressed them to his scalp. Definite deterioration. She'd felt it earlier when he'd let her wash his hair, but it was obvious now.
For the thousandth time, she wished Saul didn't have that memory block in place. She needed help if she was going to fix this.
Bill's parts were wearing out.