A/N: Many thanks to the ladies who read over this fic for me.

Laura said a lot of stupid shit when she was drunk. Usually, it was funny or witty. Other times she could get a little blunt and mean. But sometimes, as the alcohol was wearing off and she had just the right amount, she would be honest. She would let down the now very presidential wall that she had built around her.

"What made you get into politics in the first place?" Bill had asked. Normally, when someone had asked her how she had gone from school teacher to Secretary of Education, she would give them her standard, political answer. "President Adar had asked me to join his campaign and it seemed like the right time so I agreed to join him," she would tell them. Her answer was technically true. But instead of her scripted answer she told him, "Teaching requires 100 percent of your focus to be on the kids and I couldn't put everything else out of my mind. It was three months after I lost my dad and sisters and I had gotten into a pretty dark place. Adar had been bugging me to join his campaign for a while."

"What made you finally decide to do it?"

Laura took another drink, not breaking eye contact. "I agreed," she said as she put the glass back on the coffee table, "after I did something stupid. It was sort of my wake up call."

She could see Bill shift uncomfortably in his chair. During one of her blunt moments, before they were dating, he had asked her to elaborate on something and she had shouted that he should be grateful he still had Lee amongst other things. Other things that dug deep and crossed lines. She remembered how he looked, trying to contain himself when she had finally finished her tirade. "Get the frak out," he had whispered at her and pointed at the door. She made sure to slam the hatch behind her and struggled not to yell at her marine guards. They had talked about it later when they were both sober. They both apologized and hadn't brought it up again, agreeing that too much of their personal lives was probably a bad thing.

However, they had been together for awhile now, having crossed the personal lives boundary long ago. He understood her moods, her worries, and what made her laugh. He knew she wasn't a morning person and was becoming better at reading between the lines during the press conferences she gave.

"What stupid thing did you do that would make you think politics was a better option?" He finally asked, mentally bracing himself for whatever would come out of her mouth. She was unpredictable when she drank and even more so when she was mixing it with whatever she could get from Cottle.

XxXxXxX

"I know it's been three months, I know..." Laura said, playing with the sushi on the plate in front of her. Was grieving supposed to have a time limit? She hated people who played the victim every time they opened their mouth and feared on some level that she was turning into one of them.

"Laura, you don't even go out anymore. I haven't seen you at Atala in what, two or three weeks?" Marcy quizzed her.

"I do too go out." She had gone out shopping and had sat along the riverwalk drinking tea just the other day. Not what Marcy had meant, nevertheless she had still left her house.

"Uh huh…"

"I do!" She said again, finally choosing a piece and popping it into her mouth.

"You need more human interaction than sitting and watching television all day, Laura," Marcy chastised.

"Mmhmmm," she responded, shaking her head with a mouth full of food. "No." Being surrounded by people at a busy cafe was the last thing she wanted. There was still too much sympathetic head tilting from people she knew when they asked her how she was. "Mmmhmm," she repeated, still shaking her head no. Laura heard Marcy sigh on the other end of the line. "Or you could join the presidential campaign like the mayor suggested," Marcy teased, knowing full well it was a sore spot for her.

"No, I'm not joining Adar's presidential campaign," she said, licking the food off of her right thumb. She had known Richard since they met during a year abroad at Boskirk University on Picon. During the Ostara celebrations a group of them had gone to party on Scorpia and they had slept together. Despite them not having a lot in common, they had kept in touch over the years and now he wanted her to be part of his campaign for presidency.

"But just think, Laura," Marcy continued, "you'll have a new title, more money, and you'll be surrounded by good looking men."

"I don't care." It was true she didn't. A job title meant nothing to her and she lived comfortably in one of the nicer areas of Caprica City. While she didn't have a high paying job, she was smart with her money and she had inherited what her father had left behind. Her heart twinged at the thought.

"Why not?" Marcy asked as if she didn't already know the answer.

"Because I don't like politics to begin with and the national campaign is just a-"

"A good way to get frakked on multiple levels?" she laughed.

"Oh gods, you are relentless!" Marcy was relentless and far too interested in other people's sex lives. Truth be told, Laura couldn't remember the last time she had been frakked. At least four months ago, maybe longer. Her last relationship ended when her boyfriend of three years had started pushing for marriage and babies. While she had loved Olivier she didn't love the idea of staying home and being a mother. Laura felt she had already been a mother to her younger sisters after their own mother had passed. She valued her independence far too much and no one had seemed to understand that.

"Laura!"

"What?"

"I said I know I am but if you're not doing to do this thing with Adar then at least let me set you up on a date! Gods know you probably haven't been frakked since-"

"Ok ok, ah-ah-" She cut Marcy off. The last thing she wanted to do was talk about her love life or lack thereof. The last time they had gone down that path, Laura had ended up with a new 100 cubit sex toy. Although she certainly didn't regret buying it. "I'll make you a deal. I'll go on the date, if you'll stop bugging me about this campaign." Thankfully Marcy agreed and had sent her a message later that night saying that Sean would be by on Saturday around 7 to pick her up for dinner.

The remainder of the week seemed to crawl by. By Wednesday she had found herself in yet another meeting. This time the talk had turned to a potential strike demanding better pay. If I became Secretary of Education I'd actually have to deal with these things. Laura internally rolled her eyes at the thought as one of the attendees babbled on. No one had ever gone into colonial state teaching for the pay and as far as she knew they never would.

Laura awoke early on Saturday to a pounding headache. Frak ambrosia, she thought, pulling a pillow over her head. Even the darkness of her bedroom hurt her eyes. She had stayed up late watching a marathon of Baiote Mangala that she had recorded over the past few months. Her sisters had gotten her into the show and they used to watch it together. Watching it without them for the first time had drove her to drink or at least that's what she told herself.

Slowly easing herself out of bed, Laura shuffled to the bathroom and opened the medicine cabinet. He's perfect for you! Marcy's voice echoed in her head. A couple of pill bottles fell out of the cabinet as she tried to blindly find the the bottle of anti-headache capsules. Once she managed to find them, Laura popped the top off, letting it clatter to the floor. Dumping out the remaining two into her hand, she splashed some water into her mouth as she swallowed them. I wonder what Mr. Perfect would think of an aging educator who can't even teach herself to cope properly.

Laura tugged down her Buccaneers t-shirt out of habit. The walls certainly didn't care about the cellulite on her ass and upper thighs. Just go on a date with him! You made me a deal. She had made Marcy a deal, one which she was now regretting. She always considered herself to be a woman of her word. Never breaking a promise. It was something she prided herself on and another reason she did not want to get into politics.

As she dragged herself into the kitchen to make a cup of coffee, she tried to imagine not being a teacher. No more laminating and hanging countless motivational posters and behavioral charts before the school year started. She wouldn't have to spend money out of her own pocket to stock emergency supplies for students who couldn't afford to buy their own or just couldn't be bothered to remember to bring them in. Colonial teachers were supposed to be reimbursed, but the teachers knew they'd be long gone before they ever saw the cubits appear in their paychecks. Laura picked up her coffee and leaned against the counter. Maybe she could deal with the politicians. Could it really be worse than dealing with parents who yelled at her over their children's bad grades? Denied that their child could ever be disruptive in class?

But there were good things about being a teacher, she couldn't deny that. Things that she would probably miss. Watching a student achieve something they'd been struggling with all year. Having that one student that was quiet all year or the student who constantly gave her problems sheepishly come up to her at the end and say 'thank you'. These were the moments that kept her motivated throughout the year and gave her what sometimes felt like courage to return the following year.

Laura slowly sipped her still hot coffee, making a mental note to grind up more burdock root before her date arrived. Burdock tea had become part of her drinking habit after her family had passed and she had ended up standing in a fountain consumed by grief. It calmed her and made her relax instead of crying until she couldn't breathe. But it was dangerous, just like any other calmative. The first time she drank alcohol after the tea she had blacked out for a few hours. After some trial and far more error than she cared to admit she had found the right combination and timing of both tea and alcohol that allowed her to reach a state of pure bliss. She tried so hard to instill in her students the notion of personal responsibility and she felt like she was the biggest hypocrite in the Twelve Colonies. A fellow teacher had told her once to not be so hard on herself. She wasn't perfect. No one was. They were all lines and lies she had heard before. Maybe Mr. Perfect wouldn't see through her façade.