If There's Any Justice
Consolations
Why don't you remember how it feels,
Not to give a damn,
For anyone but me
*
He hears the rapid click of her heels on the deck, and then her hand, strong and small, on the back of his neck. He can feel her worry, then her relief in the tiny pads of her fingers as she props him up. She smiles gratefully down at him when she realizes he is conscious, whole, that he has just saved their lives. He feels her breath slow from her run to reach him, and knows that no one has ever been so relieved to see him.
*
"Mrs. Tigh was certainly...entertaining." Its the politest thing that President Roslin can say as she helps Lee and his Father clean-up after a dinner that could certainly have gone worse.
"Well I can admit that if I ever need to liven up an event she would be a reliable instigator." Lee smiles ruefully at her as they place dirty glassware in the wash-up tub together. His Father is staring obstinately where Ellen sat, as if his will could erase her presence from his XO's life.
Lee notes that he and Roslin have been sharing amused looks all night, and how it would have been almost rude, if half their party had not been completely pissed up.
The President looks toward his father and notices the dour mood of the senior Adama, charitably she adds, "Things have changed, for all of us. Maybe, perhaps with time, she will...adjust." Its the most she can muster for , that she might, maybe, with considerable effort, improve. Lee can tell how likely the President thinks that that is going to occur, but she says it with sincerity for his father's sake. Lee marvels a little at how conciliatory she can be with regards to the Commander, how aware she is of how this effects him. Her ability to dampen the obvious amusement she and Lee have been sharing the whole evening in deference to the elder Adama is impressive. The back and forth, the compromise, Lee remembers how good of a politician she really is.
Bill snorts derisively in Roslin's direction, smiling after a moment at her effort, and bites off that they, " should head to Baltar's lab, maybe he's got good news for us." Whether it would be better for Ellen to pass or fail the test is still to be determined, Lee can tell, by his Father's stiff tone.
Roslin stands, Lee can tell there is a level of excitement around her, and remembers how little entertainment the fleet has now, he wonders how much the president is enjoying this, then wonders how she used to like to be entertained, before.
He smiles politely at her, and gestures, "Lead the way."
He reaches for her hand as she steps off the last rung of the ladder onto the hangar deck. The intrigue of the day solved, the President is returning to Colonial One for the night. They had joked about how disrupted life on Galactica was sure to be now that Ellen would be sticking around for awhile.
"Well be sure to invite me to the next dinner party. I'm sure it'll be just as stimulating, Captain Apollo." Roslin smirks as they head towards the Raptor.
"I think I've had enough stimulation where Ellen Tigh is concerned, Madam President." Roslin inclines her head as if she's missed the joke.
Lee, embarrassingly, lets out, "Ahem, uh, during dinner Ellen was...very friendly. And hands-y." Lee smiles bashfully at the floor.
Roslin looks him over, "No damage though? No long term effects." She pats up and down his arms as if to see if he's been injured.
"Uh, no ma'am, just mental scars." One of Roslin's hands has lingered on his shoulder. He's surprised that he can feel the warmth of it through his uniform. He gazes into her eyes, as they both continue to silently enjoy their joke. Its pleasant, this closeness, the normality of it all. Roslin's eyes suddenly leave his, she steps back. Lee feels the loss of her hand. He realizes that they've just been staring at each other, her hand on his shoulder, close, for longer than necessary.
The President, as ever, is quick to cover and awkwardness. "Well, Captain Apollo, as much fun as this has been, I think we better get going before I turn into a pumpkin." Lee likes the way she scrunches up her nose at her own home-spun language.
"Of course Madam President." He returns, leading them up into the Raptor, aware that he's just missed something, and sorry for it.
The ride to Colonial One is as engaging as ever, Lee is aware that Roslin could probably fly the Raptor herself for how many times they've done it. The silence is still tinged with the mirth of evening, when Lee looks back he notices that Roslin is smiling and humming to herself, relaxed in some far off place. He wonders again about what an evening in her old life would have been like. Opera or Pyramid? Movies or plays?
Lee decides to stop wondering.
"Um, Madam President," he pauses for a moment so that she can come out of her revere, the humming stops. "If, you were home, if this was an ordinary night after work, what would you be doing?" Lee's voice goes up a little at the end, he worries that this might be too personal, too out of the blue.
He can here the smile in her voice as she replies, "Well at the end of the week, usually I'd go out with my immediate staff from the Education Ministry. I was fairly notorious for having very casual last day's of work." She states this with more humour about the situation than is obvious to Lee.
"What do you mean 'casual'?" Lee wants to turn in his chair to see the slow smirk he's sure is stretching across her face, but Colonial One is now growing in his view.
"Well," and again he can hear the smile, but also something else, in her voice. " as long as I've been Secretary I've pushed my staff very hard, long nights, brutal days, so at the end of the week as the staffers finished their work they got...rewarded." Lee knows now that she's pausing for effect. "So if say, you finished everything by 10 am, there might be a glass of chilled ambrosia on your desk, which I of course would share with you."
"You rewarded them with alcohol?" the problems associated with such a reward system seem limitless to Lee.
"Well not just alcohol, at the end of each week we all went down to this lounge to uh, celebrate, down by the Riverwalk. We usually started early as an incentive to those...lagging behind."
"Play hard, work hard." Lee states, unsurprised that that would have been her ethic.
"Right," she says happy he's caught on, that there is no admonishment in his tone. "I pushed more reforms through with my staff than had been passed in the last fifty years in the Ministry of Education, and I felt that rewarding ourselves, frequently, was a way to maintain that standard."
Lee is steering them into the landing bay of her ship, as the automated system comes on he turns to her and says, "Well now that I know that, I think I might want some sort of compensation for all the work I've done under you Madam President."
"Your right, I've been woefully neglectful. I'm surprised everyone hasn't gone on strike."
The Raptor lands with a dull thunk on the floor as the artificial gravity begins holding it in place. Lee is disappointed by their quick arrival time. He stands up to help the President onto the deck. As she stands she pauses, looks him over, and says, "Well, if you have the time now Captain, I can start compensating you." He's taken a little aback, unsure if she realizes how that sounds. He laughs a little as the colour begins to flood her cheeks, she knows. "I mean," she rolls her eyes at herself, "that I have been given three bottles of nettle wine from a grateful Captain whose sewage system was backing up into his mess hall, which I quickly sorted for him. And I think you and I should, have some. Of it." She finishes lamely, but looks defiantly into his face, daring him to call her on her awkward little speech. He's tempted, but she's standing close, and at this range he can see the delight in her eyes at the prospect, and the wicked smile around her lips.
"I'd love to indulge Madam President."
*
Lee is very aware that he is sitting on President Roslin's makeshift bed, behind a makeshift curtain in their makeshift little world. He is also aware that he has undone his uniform jacket and that her shoes are scattered on the already fraying carpet. Lee would like to attribute these details to the fact that 'some wine' became 'all of the' but he's not very good at lying to himself when he's this drunk.
She has paused momentarily in a grand story about one of her staff's nights out. One where she ended up instigating a fight between two unsuspecting victims, purely for her own drunken amusement. Lee feels almost naughty listening to her reveal all these details that no longer exist in their new reality, but then, with help from the wine and her oratory (oral, a voice that sounds suspiciously like Kara whispers) skill he ignores his ever-present feeling of wrong doing and enjoys.
Laura Roslin has gotten up to retrieve a surprise for him, something secret. Lee sits up a little, his interest piquing as he is able to recall that whatever it is, its not only a secret from him, but from Billy, which makes it more...appealing, somehow. Roslin bends down and opens the bottom drawer of her dresser, she's tossing items all over the room in her search, stumbling slightly in frustration. Lee is about to get up and help her when she seizes on it.
She turns to him still on her knees, wide smile curving her lips. Lee can feel himself reflecting her. She gets up and Lee notices the box in her hand, it looks like a small jewelry case. Lee thinks about how silly it would be if he turned it into a guessing game, if he guessed correctly she could give him a prize...
Roslin grabs the knife they used to pry the corks from the wine bottles from the table and sits on the bed with him. She hands him the box.
Lee looks down at what Roslin has just handed him, then to her hands fidgeting in her lap, they are graceful, so different from his own. He drags his eyes up to her face, aware that he might have been leering. She seems not to have noticed, and looks back expectantly at him. He looks confusedly at her, not sure what she's waiting for.
She sighs playfully, clumsily she taps the box and says, "Well open it already!" Of course, they were both waiting for him. Lee feels as if some cosmic truth has just been reinforced. But before he can get sidetracked again ( he's now noticed that her skirt is hiked dangerously up her thighs) he prys off the lid.
Inside their is one solitary ripe pomegranate. He catches her eye in surprise, she claps her hands once, and then moving right beside him, her hair swinging in his vision reaches down for the tiny fruit, she murmurs softly that, "it might be that last one in the universe."
Lee nods his head, and Roslin turns her face toward him, they are very close, close enough that for the first time this evening he worries a little about someone interrupting them. She reaches down and picks up the fruit, and with the knife in her hand quickly cuts it in half. Inside the seeds glimmer a deep red. "I didn't feel right eating it before, alone, but now..." She trails off, and plucks one of the seeds, Lee can see the juice staining her fingers as she sucks the pearl into her mouth. She inclines her head to him, to indulge with her. Lee feels like his hands are too clumsy and big, and struggles for a minute to remove a single seed, he plops it into his mouth, barely noticing the taste, still caught up in her enjoyment. He feels a little of the red liquid dribble down his chin.
Softly, gracefully, her thumb traces the line to his mouth, she ghosts his bottom lip with her thumb. And Lee, minutely, graces it with a whisper of a kiss, the existence of which he could easily deny.
They devour the rest quickly.
*
Lee washes his hands quickly in her tiny bathroom. They are stained now and he wonders what he'll say if anyone asks with what. He's glad to think that for at least a week every time he looks down at them he'll get to be back here, in this evening, just for a moment.
He can hear her in the adjoining room, moving things, tidying. Lee has stripped off his jacket entirely now, Roslin's glasses have seemingly disappeared. Lee finds that he is loitering in the bathroom, being a little more thorough than necessary. He's nervous about how the night could possibly progress from here, about what will happen when he returns to the full force of her. He purposefully doesn't examine the possibilities.
He steadies himself at the partition, then Lee feels a smile suddenly dawning over himself, whatever happens, next, with her, is good. Is better than anything. He hears someone else enter her room.
"Excuse me, Madam President?"
"Billy, what is it?" Lee can hear her voice change, professional instantly, and concerned.
"I'm sorry its so early, but Commander Adama is on the phone." Lee feels the smile instantly dissolve from his face.
"Of course, I'm with you."
*
Lee is in the pilot seat of the Raptor and he hasn't looked directly into her face since he was informed that Commander Adama has a situation which needs to be dealt with directly.
"Captain Adama," Roslin hesitates, she knows the mood has taken a severe downturn, "Are you sure your capable of flying..." He can hear the regret she feels in having to ask.
"Are you capable of handling a crisis Madam President?" He's more biting than he should be. "I-I wouldn't endanger you." They are silent as he guides them out of Colonial One.
"Is there something I can do Madam President." He's being conciliatory, he doesn't want to ruin whatever this night has been.
"Not really, no. I think your Father needs some hand holding honestly."
Lee finds himself balking at this. That she would run to Galactica to assuage his Father's...feelings. Lee wonders disparagingly how far she would go for his father's comfort.
"I'm shocked that he'd ask you to come aboard in the middle of the night just to talk-"
"-He didn't... I offered."
"Of course, Madam President, maintaining your relationship is very important." Lee knows he sounds sulky, he knows that he doesn't really care.
Suddenly he can feel her coming up behind him. Out of the corner of his eye he sees her slide into the co-pilot's chair. She looks at him, a little sadly, and then turns to the window.
"Madam President you shouldn't be out of your sea-"
"-Lee." He looks at her. She takes his free hand into her two small one's.
"I'm glad that you understand that sometimes I do have to...sacrifice things for the benefit of this fleet." He glances down and their entwined hands, her fingertips as stained as his.
Galactica's hanger bay loom out of the darkness in front of them.
"And I'm very sorry that our evening was cut short." She gives his hand an extra squeeze, and rises, turning to her abandoned passenger seat.
Lee lands the raptor easily onto the pad, docking maneuvers begin. He turns to her.
"Laura," she smiles faintly at this, "I-me too."
The hatch swings open and his father waits for her on the deck. He nods once in Lee's direction, and then helping the President down the ramp, does not glance back. Lee really does understand.