President Laura Roslin, sole role model to the last bundle of humans in the known universe, stood in front of her desk feeling incredibly stupid.
For the past half an hour she had found the base of her skirt permanently attached to the roughened, wooden surface of her desk which bared the troublesome nicks and dents of too many years in service. Unable to manoeuvre her hands into a useful position, she had been left with no choice but to lean against the wooden object and deny her unfair reality.
Ripping herself free was of course, not in contention for her preferred methods of escape. She would sacrifice every last innocent soul in existence before causing grievous harm to her remaining good suit. Maybe that made her materialistic, but the truth was that like any good politician will tell you, you have to look good if you're going to run the universe. 'Fleet' she corrected herself sternly. 'Fleet, fleet, fleet, fleet...'
For someone who was as important as herself, there was a notable shortage of people lurking nearby to help. Billy was inconveniently off fraternizing with Dualla and her meeting with the ever creepy – reliably psychotic Doctor Baltar and his ensemble of imaginary friends, didn't start for another ten minutes. Which left –
– standing around trying not to look utterly uncool.
For the sake of effort, Laura bent forward, shuffled a bit, and tried once again to free herself. It was no use. There was a large mess of cotton at the waistband of her skirt and it was becoming increasingly chaotic the more she persisted. The President exhaled sharply, straightening up and reaching for her nearby coffee mug. She sipped her cold coffee with a glare, just as icy. Some days, life set out to suck.
A quick knock at the side of the office curtain caught her attention. Thank the omni-absent Lords of Kobol – Billy was back early. "In here!" Laura called out, trying not to sound too desperate.
Instantly, she felt that dip in her stomach which warned her when something was wrong. A pause, characteristic of someone other than Billy could be felt through the curtain. Baltar's head emerged soon after – peering paranoidally into her office before uttering an apologetic, 'Madame President'.
He entered with a couple of cautious glances side-to-side while Laura lent 'casually' back onto the desk, hoping he wouldn't notice her dilemma.
"You're early." She pointed out as he progressed hesitantly into the room. 'Rodent' was too kinder word for that man. He was afraid of his own friggin' shadow.
Baltar liked routine. Ordinarily, he would take up a seat in front of the President's desk and brace himself for the barrage of lies he would have to formulate to delay her inevitable discovering of his complete and utter 'whoops' in regard to the annihilation of the human race. He was finding that move a tad intimidating with her leaning in front of her desk, only a few feet from 'his' chair. Baltar opted to remain standing. His blonde obsession sniffed his collar, wrapping her arm around his neck, relaxing onto him. As Six's weight continued to drape over him, Baltar really wished he could sit in his chair.
"I ah – didn't have to dodge any Cylon raiders on my way over this time." What Baltar meant was that he didn't have to stop off for a quickie in Colonial One's hallways because his Cylon girlfriend had the shits with him after he slept with Lee's obsession, also known as the compulsively drunk insubordinate and expert Viper jockey, Starbuck.
'Great' thought Roslin, still tied to her desk. 'Now he thinks he's funny'. She set her coffee back down on the desk behind her in case she was struck with the urge to hurl it at her Vice President during their meeting. "I wanted to talk to you about the upcoming press conference. You will be required to make a statement on fleet water resources and, due to your experience in matters of science; some people have requested that you answer a few questions put forward by the Board of Sustainability and – Mr. Vice President?"
Baltar's head was on a slant and he seemed to be staring intently at her skirt hem. Laura was prepared to put up with a lot in his presence, but she did require intermittent attention directed toward her head every now and then.
Six continued to whisper interesting things in the Vice President's ear. "No, I don't think so." He replied to one of her more creative scenarios involving all three of them.
"No to what?" Laura folded her arms in front of her chest.
'Shiiiit' Baltar's head snapped up faster than his polls. "No, I don't – uh," 'Frak,' he thought so that Six could hear him, 'this would be so much easier if I knew what we were talking about' "uh, I don't, see why that's necessary."
From Laura Roslin's perspective, it would have been sensible to repeat her sentence and re-ask the question. However, she was having a bad day, and if she had to suffer, others did as well. Baltar could squirm and put his ultra intelligent mind to work on things other than sex.
"These things are required of someone with a history such as yours." Laura explained as vaguely as possible. "It is important that this government is seen to be unafraid of contemporary issues." That had him turning pale. He clearly had no idea what she was talking about, and, if she waited long enough, his mind would find a way to link it all back to sex. Although, it would be faster and more entertaining to just make the link for him. "Besides, sexual freedom is important at the end of the world, don't you think?"
Baltar watched Laura unfold her arms and use them to lean more comfortably, almost seductively, on the desk. The Vice President, on the other hand, seemed to be on the verge of whimpering with confusion.
"Relax," she said when it looked like her second in command might spontaneously implode, "I was kidding."
'What a shame.' Six pouted against Baltar's neck. 'Think of the fun you could have had with her and that desk, considering she seems to be tied to it.'
"A shame indeed." Thankfully, he caught himself before he made a comment on bondage. But – oh dear, he'd spoken out loud again.
Laura raised her eyebrows in a worried fashion.
"The desk – you're leaning on, it's a shame that you're uh,"
'Not bent over it…' Added Six helpfully.
"Don't help me!" He whispered harshly to the side. "Standing. A shame you're standing in front of it because it's such a – "
Laura felt her eyes narrowing at him as he tried to stumble his way through another psychotic episode.
"Why are you standing in front of your desk anyway?"
Frak, that caught Laura somewhat off guard. "What of it?"
"Wouldn't you prefer to sit? I mean, if we sat?"
'I'd prefer to watch you squirm your way through the next half hour, Batshit'. "No."
"Why not?" Baltar had this feeling that Six had been onto something when she mentioned the President of the Colonies being tied to her desk.
"Because I – can't…" Laura said quietly, unable to think of a good excuse.
"Sorry?"
"My skirt is…" She tried to move forward, very clearly showing how the waistband of her skirt was hooked over one of the rougher edges of the desk.
"Oh…"
An awkward minute of silence ensued as both parties considered a suitable course of action. Baltar's 'actions' mainly consisted of the many possibilities Laura Roslin tied to the Presidential desk presented. Six made helpful suggestions to that end. Eventually he realized that he couldn't just leave her there and he certainly wasn't going to be getting lucky either. Tied up or not, the feisty President could still inflict serious damage.
"Maybe I could – " He hinted to help her.
"Fine." She replied curtly, clearly unhappy but still grateful at the prospect of freedom.
*~*
When Zarek stopped off to deliver a petition entitled, "Time for an Election", he found the reception area of the President's office abandoned. There was no way he was just going to leave it on Billy's desk in the hope that Billy might, in a moment of sympathy, pass it on to Her Majesty, the High Priestess of the Colonies. Not after all the time he spent blackmailing the people on the list.
A rather inappropriately loud giggle betrayed the President's presence. Zarek held his petition tightly in hand and headed off toward the curtain.
*~*
"Honestly, I don't know why you're laughing Madame President. I seriously doubt your skirt is going to survive this predicament unharmed." Baltar would never have imagined himself giggling with the President while trying to untangle her from her desk. Not in a million Cylon rebirths. His imaginary wife had joined them and was now lying across the top secret documents, lounging passively as Baltar picked at the knot of cotton.
He'd never seen such a mess. Loops and knots and endless lengths of navy cotton that twisted in on themselves countless times, if she wasn't acting so cute, he'd be furious. "You have to stop moving!" Baltar said in frustration, putting his hand on her hip to try and steady her. Things were difficult enough in the limited room between Laura and her desk without her bouncing around in fits of giggles.
"I'm sorry." She managed as he repositioned her to get a better angle with the knot. "It's just – " 'So tragic...' her mind filled in, trying desperately not to think of what the headlines would be if this ever got out.
Another particularly funny title entered her mind and Laura lost focus completely much to Baltar's distress. She was totally, utterly, frakkingly, gone.
'I think you should just cut the whole lot off.' Six picked up another confidential file and started flicking through it.
Baltar correctly assumed that if he cut something off her skirt, Laura would cut something off his anatomy. "Look, I need something to pick this knot with. I have no nails." 'Give her something to do, that'll shut her up.'
Which was, of course, a false assumption. Women could multitask.
"Madame President if I could have a moment of your – " Zarek froze.
The whole room fell silent. Even Six looked up from an interesting article on her position in the Cylon world to watch a very confused terrorist/freedom fighter survey the sight before him.
Roslin managed to maintain the silence for all of seven seconds before she burst into giggles again.
"Well that lasted well," sighed Baltar, holding her steady again.
'I thought he was in jail' said Six, resuming her reading.
"I thought you were in jail?" Baltar repeated to a still stunned Zarek.
Zarek managed to voice a response through Laura's giggles, "I was released. Ages ago. There was a public announcement, a ceremony – I thought you were there on behalf of the Presidency?"
"Oh, good good," he must have slept through that one. "Do you mind being useful for a minute?"
"I – "
"Great. Hold this." Baltar extended a pencil and a sharpener in his direction.
A look of contempt spread over Six's face, 'I could have held that.'
Baltar so didn't have time for this kind of a conversation, 'No you couldn't have sweety because you don't really exist.'
Contempt evolved into, 'no sex for a week'.
Confused, Zarek slipped his precious petition under his arm and took the outstretched objects. Baltar manhandled the President until she was again, in a satisfactory position. Satisfied that she was stable for a short period of time, he looked expectantly at Zarek.
Zarek was still staring at the President and her Second in shock.
"How's the state of the nation?" Baltar quipped in relation to Zarek's sanity. He was obviously too overwhelmed to appreciate it. "Well are you going to sharpen the damn thing or not?" He said impatiently instead.
"Okay." Zarek decided it was better to co-operate and quickly sharpened the pencil, handing it back to Baltar.
"Right, now you're going to need to hold her steady for me."
Zarek's eyes widened. The President to which Baltar was referring was a very beautiful red head who seemed to have completely lost the plot and was currently heaving with giggles. "Are you insane?"
Baltar didn't miss a beat. "That is the general consensus."
"It is?" That was interesting. Perhaps he could use that information at a later date when he decided to launch his election campaign against the Roslin government.
"I took a poll, now could you hurry up?"
Not needing to be asked twice, Zarek threw his petition into the empty chair and headed toward the President.
"Alright," said Baltar, "now there's not a lot of room and we can't pull her too far away from the desk or her skirt will rip so you'd better stand in front of her, put your hands around her waist and hold this knot tight so that I can pick at it."
"Uh ha," was all Zarek managed as he obeyed. He was beyond objections. Laura had been laughing so hard she'd started acting like a drunken teenager, wrapping her arms around Zarek's neck and bawling with laughter.
"It's you!" She cried between gasps, "You're supposed to be in jail!"
"You released me."
"So I did!" And then she laughed again.
Baltar stuck the sharp end of the pencil deep into the knot and started jiggling things about. His plan was working, the cotton started to loosen and the hole became bigger. Unfortunately, Laura found a Viper gliding past her porthole hilarious and moved suddenly, breaking the pencil lead.
"Frak! I said hold her steady."
"Doing my best."
Baltar grabbed the pencil sharpener aggressively and started sharpening, breaking the lead twice more before he was ready to start again.
'You know, I could pick that knot with my nails but you never asked me.'
'Like I said before,' repeated Baltar in frustration as he plunged the pencil back into the fray, 'you're not really here'.
Just as things started to look up, the President's phone rang. "I got it," said Baltar who, seeing this as just part of the chaos, slipped the phone between his ear and shoulder. In the process of doing this, he knocked a poorly placed mug of coffee over. Panicked, he let go of the pencil, almost dropping the phone in his attempt to stop the mug from falling off the desk. Six reached over and held the pencil in place mouthing, 'I'm not really here' at him.
Zarek saw a pencil suspend itself in mid air and decided to say nothing.
Laura thought all this was terribly amusing and gripped onto the terrorist tighter, howling.
"Hello?" said Baltar. "Sorry, the President's a little tied up right now. Could you call back – great." The Vice President hung up on a mystified Gaeta and attacked the knot with renewed strength.
Finally, the knot slipped out, freeing the President to fall soundly into the arms of Tom Zarek. Inevitably, the pencil broke in the effort with an almighty, 'snap'.
The noise sobered Laura right up. "Did you just break my pen?" she said from the terrorist's shoulder.
"No…" Replied Baltar defensibly.
"Is there ink all over my skirt and desk?"
"No… I was using your pencil." Probably not the most intelligent thing the doctor had ever said.
There was a long and dangerous pause. "You just broke the last pencil in the universe, didn't you?"
"Although that cannot be conclusively proved through scientific investigation, I am inclined to say, yes."
Before anything could be done to punish the doctor, the curtain of the office parted once again and this time Lee came bowling through.
This is what he saw:
President and, until now, worshipped guider of the human race draped in the arms of one Thomas Zarek – a terrorist Lee had had a nasty run in not so long ago. Then there was Doctor Baltar, creepy Vice President, holding half a broken pencil in one hand while the other was firmly positioned at the top of Laura Roslin's waistband. Now Lee wasn't usually one to read too much into a situation but, honestly, he was struggling to find a child friendly explanation for this one.
All Lee could think to say was, "I thought you were in jail."
Zarek sighed loudly, "Why does everybody keep saying that? It's getting very irritating and shows a complete lack of diversity in this sorry excuse for a gene pool!"
"A pool you're not coming anywhere near," said Laura, collecting herself enough to stand on her own two feet. Then she calmly removed Baltar's hand from her ass before circumnavigating her desk. "Now," she said calmly, seating herself in her comfy desk chair, "what are you all doing in my office?"
"I had a meeting," said Baltar honestly.
"I came to protest," Zarek added quickly.
Six didn't move from her 'couch'/presidential desk, slowly rolling over to say, 'I'm not really here'.
Those excuses, thought Laura, seemed valid enough. "But what are you doing here Mr. Adama?"
Lee stood perfectly rigid and in the most static voice fathomable said, "I am the point at which my father's imagination decided to give itself a wake up call."
*~*
Commander William Adama sat up too fast, hitting his head soundly on the top of his bunk before falling out of it. He lay there for a few moments on his bedroom floor, holding his head tightly in agony. He'd just had one hell of a dream and, as he managed to sit up, thought worryingly to himself, 'Pay attention William Adama, that all came out of your mind.'
Bill nursed his head and leant against his bunk muttering sternly as several of the images replayed again and again, "Which should give you something to think about!"
THE END ... LOL