Natural Enemies
A/N: This was written several years ago and posted—perhaps not in its entirety—on LJ. Now I've polished some bits and rewritten others and it does in fact have an ending—more than could be said for the original!
"I'm still Ellen."
"Hmmm."
-No Exit/Deadlock
They were natural antagonists. Natural enemies.
The bottle blonde and the brunette (how did one get hair colour at the end of the worlds?).
The socialite and the educator.
The romantic and the pragmatist.
The devoted wife and the spinster politician.
Once, their only apparent bond was that of age: a bond acknowledged with reluctance and petulance on one side and amused resignation on the other.
Now one is, or has been, effectively immortal, and the other is all too aware of her own numbered days.
The Cylon and the Human.
"That woman!" Laura Roslin exploded as Bill led her through Galactica's triangular corridors to the rosy haven of their quarters.
"She hasn't changed much."
She snorted. "You mean she's still—she's still...ooh!"
"She's still Ellen," Bill agreed, irritatingly placid while Laura continued to fume inwardly.
She didn't begin to relax until he spun the wheel to enclose them in his quarters. The sound of the hatch locking dissipated the tension in her muscles and she swayed, both grateful and annoyed when he steadied her without a word and guided her to the sofa.
"At least there's only one model of her," she commented, wincing as her body protested against her efforts to get comfortable. "Gods, Bill. Can you imagine? Multiple versions of Ellen Tigh?" She shuddered at the thought.
"Don't," Bill advised from his minibar. She watched as he took a swig of the amber coloured liquid that passed for ambrosia these days. Alcohol was becoming his crutch and she feared for him in that future she now knew she would never see.
She didn't express her anxiety; there was no point. Until Bill was ready and able to admit the reality of her impending death there was nothing she could do to help him with 'after'. Instead, she allowed a smile to form and sent him the coquettish, teasing glance she knew he couldn't resist.
"You were right, you know."
"I was?" Her stoic admiral looked surprised at hearing those words from her lips and she suppressed a giggle, one that died entirely when he handed her a glass of something disturbingly gloopy. And green. "Cottle said you'd to drink it before this afternoon."
She accepted it reluctantly. The stuff looked foul and tasted worse, but as long as Bill believed it was helping ... His gaze was fixed on her, watching as she choked down a few gulps, and she couldn't stand the hope (or the pain that hid behind it) in his eyes.
At least Ellen-frakking-Cylon-Tigh made for a good diversion.
"You were right," she repeated, allowing amusement to colour her voice. "You thought she was a Cylon, remember? When you discovered her aboard the Rising Star?"
"And you couldn't believe I suspected her."
"It seemed so—so preposterous. Ellen. Silly, flighty Ellen ... partly responsible for the genocide of the human race? Impossible."
"She wasn't." She heard his soft sigh of relief as he lowered his ageing bones to the comforting embrace of his sofa. "Any more than Saul or Tyrol or Anders or Tory were. They've been separate from the others. Remember what Kara told us."
All desire to laugh left Laura as she rested her head against the couch's wilting back. "I haven't forgotten. And now we need them." That thought made her grimace as much as the taste of the gelatinous gunk Cottle liked to pretend was a nutrient shake.
"Here's the thing," Bill was saying as he leaned forward to take the glass from her and place it on the coffee table. "She's still Ellen, and she's still in love with Saul. And she still considers me a friend—"
Realising where this was going, Laura groaned. "No. Absolutely not."
"Laura, you don't have to be here. You can go back to Colonial One."
She glanced at him, a smile twitching. "Are you throwing me out, Admiral?"
"Never, Madam President." His eyes twinkled. "But you're welcome to throw yourself out if the thought of an evening with Ellen is so godsdamned awful."
"And leave you and Lee all by your defenseless selves?"
She laughed aloud when he grunted in tacit agreement (and oh, this was why she loved him. The fleet was in dire straits, Galactica was inexorably falling apart and she ... she too was dying—and yet somehow in the midst of it all Bill Adama could still make her laugh).
Bill's blue eyes were sparkling. "You gotta stay here, Laura. Gods know what that woman'd do without you to protect my good name—" She snorted inelegantly at that and he pulled her closer. "And ... we'd have them to ourselves. Pour that gutrot of the Chief's down their necks. Just think what you could find out with a few questions—"
Laura turned her face into his shoulder. "Gods, you do fight dirty. Yes. I'm certain there's plenty they haven't told us and if dinner loosened their tongues ... I'm not gonna turn that down. Plus, there's always the temptation to be bitchy."
"'Course there is." Poor Bill, he sounded resigned at the prospect (she was sure he remembered their first dinner with the Tighs, never to mention her half-hearted attempt to build bridges with Ellen during New Caprica's brief summer) and she ran a consoling hand over his wool-covered arm.
"It's a funny thing," she went on, shifting to rest her head against his shoulder. "Never thought of myself as a particularly bitchy person before I met Ellen. Sure, Playa sometimes brings it out, but she's... well, she's more like an annoying student who needs to be squashed from time to time for her own good. Ellen ... I don't know if you'll understand this, Bill, being a man-" she flashed him a glance "-but Ellen is the equivalent of the irritating beauty queen at school that you know you could crush beneath your feet if you had half a chance, but she's so slippery you can never get a good enough grip to do it."
Bill burst into surprised laughter. "If Ellen's the beauty queen, what were you?"
Laura gave him a serene smile. "Couldn't you guess? I was the mousy little geek at the back."
Bill grinned. "Now you're the president."
"And she's frakking immortal and one of the revered final five to boot! Talk about adding insult to injury." She hummed. "Oh, invite them, but make sure we have Lee and Kara along too. I'll need some form of sanity."
"Won't I do?"
She poked him in the side. "You'll be too busy either talking shop or swopping warrior stories. Just invite Lee and he'll try to talk politics. Kara will break things up nicely."
"Or just break things up," Bill muttered, passing his hands over his face. "She's been temperamental lately."
Laura put her hand on his arm. "We've all been through so much," she told him softly. "Kara no more than any of us, and—and she carries the same burden of guilt that I do. About Earth."
Bill grunted, patted her hand, and rose to his feet. "Time to get back to the day job, Roslin. I'll tell the kids. Gods know Ellen's usually good for comic relief and that should help Kara and Lee. As for you, rest, okay?" He straightened his jacket and looked at her, the rims of his glasses gleaming in the dim light.
She sketched a salute. "Yes, sir." She curled into the spot he'd just vacated and expelled a tiny sigh. There was more heat there than she seemed to have in her entire body these days. "I told Lee it was time for him to do the heavy lifting."
Bill laid a blanket over her knees. "Letting the young ones do the work. Warm enough?"
"As I can be. Go."
He leaned to kiss her, his fingers brushing the flat strands of her wig. "Keep this on?"
"Hmm. Someone might come looking and I don't like scaring the natives."
Bill chuckled. "I see. It's your head. And Laura, you didn't lead us astray. We're not sheep, we could have said 'no' at any step of the way."
"Hmm. Okay, I hear you, I do. Now go. Tell the Tighs we'll see them for dinner—oh, Bill?"
"Yeah?"
"Could we wait until I've recovered from today's treatment?"
He squeezed her hand. "Wouldn't dream of doing otherwise. We need you on full airlocking-bitch mode to deal with Ellen."
She giggled, but her giggles were turning drowsy. "Thanks."
The last thing she heard before sleep claimed her was the clang of metal as the hatch swung shut.
The prospect of the forthcoming evening sent butterflies dancing through Ellen's stomach. Not that she'd have admitted it to anyone, least of all Saul—not when he was towing her towards Bill's quarters, grumbling all the while that she was to watch her frakkin' mouth, as if she was an unruly child instead of his wife and partner.
She hoped he appreciated her restraint in not responding in kind. She knew Saul's tetchiness was caused by his discomfort in going to this little gathering without Caprica. Caprica, who was still in Life Station grieving the loss of their child, and who had said precisely nothing when informed of this little jaunt.
Ellen had always known that Saul was an honourable man, despite everything.
Bill answered Saul's knock with a yell that meant nothing to Ellen but clearly meant 'come in' to Saul. Cylon or no, she could not help the flare of old jealously at how easily the two men could read each other, even yet. She'd never tell Saul, but on some level she'd been hoping that Bill's discovery of her husband's true nature would dilute the depth of their bond, forcing Saul to return, completely, to her.
That wasn't going to happen, she thought now as Saul pushed her into Bill's rosy quarters. Her first impression was one of déjà-vu; four years ago, he'd pushed her into these rooms in exactly that way, and to face almost exactly the same company. Bill, playing the genial host and offering some sort of liquid that was probably not ambrosia. Laura Roslin, seated on the couch as if by right (Queen Laura, Ellen thought scornfully) with Lee bolting to his feet by her side. Starbuck was the only discordant note, and she stood by in disconcerting silence. Ellen took a glass from Bill and wondered when and where Kara Thrace had learned to be still.
She took a sip and blinked. Ambrosia it was assuredly not, but it burned all the way down and warmed her inside, giving her courage. She smirked as Roslin took Lee's arm and levered herself slowly to her feet.
"Getting old's a bitch. Right, Laura?"
There was a silence that could be felt before Laura responded, her voice dripping the barbs Ellen remembered from before.
"Unfortunately, we can't all be well-preserved three thousand year old fossils."
Kara spluttered and Ellen glared while Laura, frak her, remained serene.
"Would everyone like to sit?" The President gestured at the table in the centre of the living area, furnished with old cloth and shining cutlery and two steaming vats. "I'm afraid we can't offer anything more tempting than algae, but at least it'll be good-looking algae, if I know the galley."
Ellen took her seat and her revenge. "Moved in, have we, Madam President? Frakking the military?" She meant it as a joke, but another muffled snort from Kara coupled with Saul's beady one-eyed stare told her she'd inadvertently spoken the truth. "Oh my gods, you are!"
"Not that it's any business of yours," Laura snapped as Bill held her chair and she settled into it. The smile she sent up to Bill said more than her words.
"Such a nice little family," Ellen cooed, ignoring the sharp poke in the side from Saul beside her. She leaned over the table towards Lee. "So do tell. Is she a wicked stepmother?"
"She's not my stepmother," Lee said, glancing quickly at Laura and his father as he spoke. "She's—uh, she's—" He stammered to a stop and looked uncomfortable.
"Yes, let's just leave that thought unfinished," Laura murmured, pushing a piece of star-shaped algae around her plate. "We still have to work together."
Ellen sniffed as Lee's worried face cleared and he exchanged a glance with his … well… his father's mistress. She hid a grin at the thought of how everyone would react if she said that out loud.
Silence descended once more, as awkward as before. It was broken by Kara, blunt as always.
"What was it like, being downloaded?"
Everyone blinked. Lee choked on his algae, Laura's eyes went wide before narrowing into green slits, and Bill remained his usual stoic self.
Saul gave a sound that was half-huff and half-laugh. "I wouldn't know, I remember frak-all about it."
"Looks like it's up to you, isn't it?" Laura said sweetly.
"I wouldn't be so smug, Madam President," Ellen returned with equal sweetness. "D'Anna told me that at one time she thought you were the Fifth."
Something indefinable chased across Laura's face. "I doubt that thought lingered. I am unquestionably mortal."
And with those words, everything clicked.
"Your cancer. It's back."
"Yes."
"The hybrid was right," Ellen breathed. "The Dying Leader… the prophecies are true!"
Everyone ate steadily, ignoring her.
Then: "The prophecies are a pile of shit." That was Kara, sounding desolate.
"Kara, don't," Lee protested.
"It's all right, Lee," Laura said wearily (and Ellen wondered how she could have missed that soul-deep weariness before). "I mightn't put it in precisely that way, but I agree with the sentiment."
"We both frakked up," Kara agreed, pushing her own food around her plate in a distracted fashion. She made a face and put her fork down. "Eurgh. This crap gets fouler by the day."
"Even if it is in pretty little shapes?" Lee said in a silly sing-song voice and the two collapsed in a joint fit of laughter that was over almost before it had properly started. The sound of it jangled along Ellen's nerves, emphasising her sense of dislocation.
This was not the same as four years ago. They were the same people, and not. Everyone (even her) was colder, harder; despair was a constant presence, almost as tangible on the tongue as the unpleasant slime of algae.
And yet ... Laura was dying once again. Ellen's pulse thrummed with the knowledge, the confirmation she hadn't even realised she'd been seeking.
She watched Bill lean over to whisper something in Laura's ear. The President smiled softly and picked up her fork, gamely carrying on with the unappetising meal whilst exchanging occasional glances with Bill that seemed to say: I'm eating, I'm eating, I'm eating...
Ellen stared, forcing herself to notice details she had wilfully ignored. The unnaturally straight hair (Laura Roslin with straight hair was anomaly enough). The gaunt face. The voice, alternately deep and breathy. Even her fingers trembled on her fork, as if the cutlery was too heavy to hold.
"How long?" Ellen blurted.
Laura dropped her fork and it hit her plate with an angry metallic clang. Ellen yelped as Saul pinched her, and Bill and the 'children' refused to look at her.
"That's none of your business," Laura said flatly.
"Oh, believe me, it is. How long?" Ellen wasn't going to let this go. "I need to know. We need to know."
Bill glanced at her, his eyes glacial behind his glasses. "Who's 'we'?"
Ellen gave a light laugh. "Oh, Bill. The Five, of course. You see, no matter what you may think, or you, Kara, or Laura, we still believe."
"Speak for yourself," Saul grumbled. "I think it's a pile of frakkin' crap. We got to Earth, didn't we? An' all we found there was death and doom and gloom. Naw." He used his knife to thump the table so hard it vibrated. "Human or Cylon, we make our own fate, I say!"
"Hear, hear," Bill echoed. His glance towards Laura betrayed his thoughts, and Ellen felt sorry for him. For them—but she couldn't let it drop.
"The hybrid does not lie," she insisted. "'The Dying Leader shall know the truth of the Opera house'." She looked at Kara, "And 'Kara Thrace is the harbinger of death…'. Mean anything to anyone here?"
"That's enough," Saul growled. "Woman, I told you to watch your frakkin'mouth, didn't I?"
"You're not the boss of me, Saul Tigh!" Ellen wrenched herself from his hold. "I'm telling the truth and you know it, and they know it too. All of this has happened before, and all of it will happen again."
"Gods, I hope not," Laura said, and even in the dim light Ellen could see she'd bleached bone-white. "If the prophecies are true, and like Kara I think that's a big 'if' right now … Gods, I hope we can break the cycle. To go through all of this again …" She slumped in her chair, turning impossibly paler.
Ellen watched Lee and Bill help her rise from her chair and held her upright. Kara pushed back her own chair and murmured something to Lee before quietly letting herself out.
"You'd better go," Lee told Ellen and Saul, his eyes cold.
"You're frakkin' right, we had," Saul returned. He hauled Ellen to her feet with more force than grace, quelling her protest with a filthy look. "We're goin'. Bill, shall I call Cottle?"
"No, don't," Laura said faintly. Even Ellen could see that she was hanging on to consciousness through sheer willpower and nothing else. "I'm – fine. I'm just tired, that's all. Just tired."
"Rest well, Madam President," Saul said gruffly. "Bill—"
His friend looked at him. "If we need anything, we'll call," he said tersely. "Good night, it's been a wonderful evening."
"Wonderful, huh," Ellen heard Saul echo as he pushed her through the hatch. "Frakkin' wonderful."
Reviews would be amazing.
TBC.
