Author: Regency
Title: We are…?
Summary: At Baltar's inauguration, Laura thinks upon the state of humanity.
Disclaimer: Ron D. Moore and David Eick. I own nothing.
AN: doesn't like my italics. Sorry. I know some didn't get the final phrase, so I'll explain. Laura thought this word was fitting because they no longer use it. We do use it, so we find it funny. Frak is obviously a derivative, so it probably started as F---. You get me? I know they say 'frak,' just for the record.
What are we, Laura had asked herself repeatedly in the last few months. Her first answer had been surviving. For her, dying. Now, it was…something, something intangible.
The Reaper was following them; she could sense it as keenly as she felt Bill's arms brushing firmly against hers. They had come to a standstill at this place where their fate was sealed. As Baltar raised his right hand, her heart plummeted to new lows. There was no going back now. She could not change the decision she had made.
What are we now? The back of his hand touched hers and he broke his ironclad focus on Baltar to look to her briefly. We are noble.
The new President completed his oath. No great hell descended immediately upon them, but a strange and precious light filled Baltar's eyes. It was a narcissistic illumination at all the power within his incapable grasp. Laura shuddered within, shivering little outwardly. She knew the answer now.
To use an ancient and disused colloquialism, We are fucked.