Disclaimer: Battlestar Galactica belongs to Ronald D. Moore and the Sci-Fi channel.

When Laundry Misbehaves

Part 1 of 4: MIA or misplaced?

It had been a few weeks Galactica and the colonists had seen the Cylons. All appeared to be quiet as various officers went to pick up and deliver laundry. Everyone was aware that two laundry carts should not go down the corridors at the same time, coming from opposite directions, due to how bulky the carts were. Two new volunteers to the laundry department had not been informed of this.

One cart for Colonial One ended up in the same hallway as a cart delivering laundry to various officers that worked in CIC. The carts bumped as they passed each other and due to the collision, a few bags fell out and a few labels from some of the bags fell off. The two people apologized and resumed their trips.

Major Lee Adama passed one of the carts on the way to visit his father. "Hey, do you have my laundry?" he inquired.

"It's not on this cart, sir, but the admiral's is," the volunteer replied.

"I'll just take it to him," Lee remarked. The volunteer nodded and handed him the bag marked W. Adama.

The admiral opened the door after hearing knocking. "So you've come to talk about the reports?" the older man inquired.

"Yeah, and I brought your laundry," his son stated.

"Thanks," Adama said as he took the bag from Lee and brought it into his bedroom. He did not like wrinkles and wanted to hang up a few things immediately. When he opened the bag though, he found a few skirts, dresses, and silk blouses. "Lee, I think we have a problem," he called out.

The younger man entered the bedroom. "What's wrong, dad?"

"This isn't my laundry," Adama grumbled, looking through the bag.

His son raised an eyebrow and looked at him curiously. "What do you mean?"

The older man sighed. "I mean," he paused and pulled out a white bra, "that this isn't my laundry."

Lee stared at the article of clothing in shock. "Someone must've mixed up the labels along with the bags," he rationalized.

Adama nodded in agreement. "If only I could…" he trailed off, looking in the bag for some way of identification. What's this? Why does this blue silk blouse look familiar? It reminds me of – oh frak, anything but that. He had realized whose bag he had and he faced Lee with a grimace. "It would seem that I have President Roslin's laundry."

Lee smirked, imagining how she would react to hearing that one. Adama glanced at the clock with a scowl. "And I don't have time to tell her about it because I have to get over to CIC." With that, both men headed out of the door. On his way to CIC, Adama wondered where his laundry had gone.

The person pushing the cart to Colonial One had delivered the laundry bags, leaving one for the president on her desk. President Laura Roslin picked up the laundry back and put it over her shoulder. Then she bent down to reach for a few files, not realizing that something had fallen from the bag.

She headed to her makeshift room and placed the files in her private filing cabinet before heading to the bathroom. In the meantime Tory had entered the outer room and sat waiting for the president. As her eyes drifted to the floor, she spotted a dark blue clump of clothing on the floor.

Tory left the chair and carefully picked up the item by the elastic. Once she realized what it was, she gasped: it was a man's pair of boxers. The president exited the bathroom and entered the outer room to see her aide's horrified expression. "Is something wrong, Tory?" she asked politely.

Swallowing her shock, the aide faced the older woman. "Madame President, as your advisor regarding your public image, I would recommend that you not make a habit of leaving certain articles of clothing around your office after having… entertained company," she instructed.

Roslin eyed her with perplexed curiosity, until she spotted what the younger woman was holding. "How in the world did those get in my office?" she wondered out loud.

"Perhaps there was some indiscretion between the office and the bedroom," the aide commented, giving Roslin a disapproving look.

The older woman shook her head adamantly. "No, I haven't been seeing anyone. I have no idea how…" she trailed off, remembering the laundry bag. She retrieved it and set it out on her desk. "I wonder if…" she trailed off again, her fingers confirming her suspicions as she pulled out a man's pants and military uniform. "I have someone else's laundry," she stated.

"The labels must have been switched," Tory suggested, tossing the boxers back into the bag, glad to be rid of them as soon as possible.

"But whose laundry is this?" Roslin inquired as she took a better look at the military jacket. Hmm, lots of buttons, looks like most of the others but, wait, there's a name on the collar. Her eyes led her to see a W. Adama and she swallowed hard. "Admiral Adama's laundry seems to have found its way here."

The aide put her hands to her forehead. "Madame President, this must be taken care of immediately before the press finds out and thinks the same thing that I did," she pointed out. "You should call him."

Roslin nodded and picked up the phone. "What am I supposed to say to him? 'Admiral, I have your pants, would you like them back sometime today?'" Roslin said to Tory, not realizing that Adama had picked up the phone.

Colonel Tigh had picked up the other headset and was caught between wanting to laugh and absolute shock. The admiral closed his eyes for a moment, having heard the same thing. For Kobol's sake, Laura, what were you thinking? Adama cleared his throat and spoke. "Madame President, I am not the only one who heard what you just said," he told her with as much dignity as he could muster. "Now do you mind telling me what the frak is going on?"

Roslin sighed heavily, blushing scarlet on her end of the phone. "There's been a laundry mix-up, which we should remedy as soon as possible," she explained.

"I've noticed and I completely agree. Might I suggest that we move to a secure line?" he advised.

She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. "Of course."

Having transferred the call, the arranged to have Tory bring his laundry bag to him and pick up Roslin's laundry. The transaction was made quietly and no one from the press noticed anything.