I.
You were born the day your uncle died. Your mother smiled and sobbed, holding you to her left breast, praying that you did not inherit the family curse.
Your father stroked the top of your head. You clenched your fists. He called you a fighter.
One of your mother's tears fell on your forehead. She named you Laura.
Three days later they take you to the temples for the blessings of the Gods. An older woman, standing at the entrance of the temple, asked to hold you. She turned to your parents. "She will endure much sorrow and much pain. She will fight, will overcome, will be blessed. In her hands, the future will be shaped." She looked down, blessing your forehead with the symbol of Athena. "Choose wisely, little one, and well."
Back in your mother's arms, you snuggled into her breast. Your mother later knelt before the altar and prayed. She begged the Gods to ignore the woman's words.
You cried out when the priestess drew your blood.
II.
You ran so fast out of the rundown school building, you wondered if you could fly. You looked at the machines clearing the streets of snow. You wondered if they feel. You decided that perhaps you would be nice to them, just in case.
All thoughts of machines and feelings were neglected when you saw your father. You shouted your greeting and rushed into his arms. He twirled you around as you giggled and shrieked. When he set you back on the ground, he very solemnly asked what tonight meant.
You bounced up and down, throwing punches in the air. Tonight was fight night, when you had daddy to yourself and he taught you how to fight. You and he mock fought. You jabbed and jabbed, looking for an opening. It came and you placed an uppercut in the space beside his chin. He fell over, pretending you knocked him out.
Your mother exited the house, dressed for work. She sighed and wished out loud that your father didn't expose you to so much blood and violence. He got up, kissed her and told her not to worry.
He took your hand and the two of you walked to the old gymnasium.
III.
You wrapped the blanket closer around you while you stared out the window. The world had turned to madness when the machines rebelled. People walked in fear and talked only of blood and death. You observed the dark colors that draped your neighbor's house. Her son had been killed in the last battle.
You wondered at the direction of your life. You should have been worrying about dances, boyfriends, grades and pyramid games, but you couldn't. There were no dances or pyramid games because all spare resources had to be used for the war. The electricity turned off two hours after sunset. Everyday more and more of your classmates disappeared, drafted into the military. Your grades, while still excellent, meant little if humanity did not survive.
You waited for your parents and worried that they would miss curfew. You knew they could not pay the fine if caught. A door slammed in the distance and your parents entered the house. They were at the infirmiry, they told you. The doctor diagnosed your mother with breast cancer. She will most likely die.
You began another deathwatch, one for your race and one for your mother. At night, when you heard the explosions and felt the house shake, you traveled to the bathroom and found your mother vomiting. You knelt, held her hair back and whispered prayers to the Gods for a miracle.
IV.
As you walked to the stage, you believed in miracles. Humanity survived, the machines left, your mother was in remission, and you had a complete scholarship to university.
You walked up to the podium and spoke about how to shape the future.
V.
You doodled as you listened to the idiot and wondered why education students were required to take a political science class. You hated politics. The idiot shifted topics to how the Scriptures banned abortion. You stood up, straightened your shoulders, opened your mouth and destroyed his argument.
You smirked as you collected your books, glad to be done. You were eager to get to your practicum classroom and interact with the students. You thought of a great method for teaching fractions last night as you drifted off to sleep.
You turned to leave and ran into another student. He stopped you and said his name was Richard Adar. He admired your defense of abortion and asked if you wanted to go somewhere and talk. You were about to brush him off when your roommate ran into the lecture hall.
You looked at her face and you knew. Your father had called, she said. The cancer came back. You dropped your books and left. You forgot about the boy named Richard.
You fell into the familiar pattern. You held her hair as she vomited and whispered prayers. When the drugs did not cure her, you sat at her bedside giving her water and pain medication. When you could, you went to the temples and gave offerings.
You held her hand as tears streamed down your face and she drew her last breath. As you watched your father sob into your dead mother's neck, you stopped praying to the Gods.
VI.
You stepped to the front of your classroom and smiled. That day's history lesson covered the founding of the Twelve Colonies. A student asked about the thirteenth colony and you used the question to explain the difference between fact and legend.
As snack time began, the principal appeared in your doorway. The mayoral candidate that the Teachers' Union endorsed wanted to visit your classroom. Richard Adar stepped in and smiled at you. He asked the students questions about their lessons. He looked at you when he told your students how lucky they were to have Miss Laura.
You went to his campaign rally that night, drawn to him. You signed up as a volunteer. He remembered you from the classroom and consulted with you on education issues. You became good friends with his wife.
He won the election. You were glad and relieved to return your full attention to teaching. You hated politics.
VII.
You still consulted with him on educational issues as mayor and later, as Quorum member. Months after he announced his candidacy for the presidency, he asked you to be Secretary of Education. You wanted to refuse him but he looked at you, eyes full of need.
Even though you still hated politics, you never could refuse him.
VIII.
You climbed into the shower, excited and apprehensive about your first day as Secretary of Education. You remembered the elation in your father's eyes yesterday when you were sworn in. He told you over and over how proud your mother would be.
As you dressed, you felt a lump in your left breast.
You ignored it.
IX.
You and Richard continued to fight, even through the rest of the Cabinet didn't care and it was approaching the wee hours of the morning. Richard finally ended the debate and explained that as President he didn't have to explain himself to anyone.
As the rest of the Cabinet left, you continued to argue. He slumped into his chair and you realized something was wrong.
She's leaving him, he told you. You gasped and placed your hand on his shoulder. He clasped your hand and pulled you into his lap.
As he kissed you, you knew it was wrong. You knew you should stop what was happening. But you could never refuse him.
X.
She never left him and you became something you despised. You became his mistress.
The teachers were on strike and you went to the doctor.
His hands and lips did not cure you.
He wanted your letter of resignation.
You left and dedicated the Galatica Museum.
XI.
You stared out the window of the ship recently dubbed Colonial One.
The world ended. The number over your shoulder totaled the remnants of humanity.
You had to create a new world. Unless Commander Adama wearied of you and overthrew your government.
You hated politics, yet you were the President.
You put your head on your desk, and did something you hadn't done in years. You prayed to the Gods.
XII.
You can't decide which was worse: politics or religion.
You suborned mutiny; he threw you in jail. You escaped and led a rebellion. A rebellion whose leaders believed you to be the promised prophet.
You sat next to him on the cold, damp ground. He gave you his forgiveness. You refused it. He thanked you for every day he had lived since the end of the world. He looked at you and you felt it again. Attraction.
You stood on Earth.
You had hope again.
XIII.
He asked to meet with you in his quarters. You drink and toast to Earth.
When he gathers you into his arms, gently and delicately, you know. He knows you are dying. When he tilts your chin, looks into your eyes and bends to kiss you, you meet him halfway. The two of you kiss, full of need but also fear. You near his bunk and he lifts his mouth from your neck, silently asking permission.
You nod. This time, you have the power to refuse. You do not.
You help him remove the military issued tank top. You gasp at the scar running down the length of his torso. He moves to hide it and you stop him. You place your lips on the scar and kiss down its length. You hear his gasp, but do not know why you taste salt along with his skin. It is not until he pulls you up and wipes the tears from your eyes that you realize you were crying. You almost lost him. Humanity almost lost him. You look up at him with watery eyes. You pull him close and bury your face in his neck, listening to his heartbeat.
After a few minutes, he pulls away and unbuttons your blouse and unclasps your bra. Slowly and deliberately, he kisses his way down your neck, your collarbone, further down until he encounters the scar on your left breast where the mass had been removed. You hold him there, as a few of his tears trail down your breast.
You pray to the Gods. Maybe, just maybe, his touch will save you.