Disclaimer: Sanctuary and BSG aren't mine. If they were, there'd have been lots more sex and far less science/space junk... just sayin'. (see profile for a REAL disclaimer)
A/N: Written for windandthestars over on LJ, who requested the prompt, "Helen/Roslin, high tea."
President Laura Roslin had been dreaming of the Opera House for nearly a year now. She'd never quite grown used to it- the way the nightmares always set her on edge, leaving her searching for answers in a helpless landscape- but at times they were the only thing that seemed to keep her going.
So one night, just as she'd turned the corner and spotted Hera in the arms of Baltar and Six, and she suddenly found herself transported to a beautiful stone castle, sitting across from a woman with dark, wavy hair and long legs crossed demurely in front of her, she'd been more than a little surprised. Laura woke startled and out of breath, but shook it off. When it happened again a week later, having spent a few more seconds with the strange woman before being dragged back into consciousness, it started to pique her interest. But, the third time, that's when things changed.
"What is this place?" Laura asked, gazing across a lush, dark green lawn to study the building in the early evening sun.
The woman paused, nibbling on some sort of meat and cheese, and Laura could practically feel her time running out. She could wake up at any time.
"This is my home. A place for all the world's wayward souls to find safe harbor."
That got her attention.
"Safe harbor? You mean the war hasn't touched this world?"
"War?"
"Please, you have to tell me what planet we're on," Laura begged, her heart fluttering as hope numbed her body, "What's left of humanity depends on it."
With a furrowed brow, the woman set her tea down and leaned forward, "What planet we're on? Earth of course..."
Laura gasped, the ceiling of Colonial One slowly coming into focus as she reeled from the new information that she'd gleaned. Earth was real, she could feel it in her bones. It wasn't just a pipe dream or a story told to keep moral up throughout the fleet. She'd felt the breeze flutter through her hair and the cushy grass beneath her feet, and now she'd die searching for that little slice of paradise if she had to.
Letting her eyes slip shut, she took a shaky breath and tried to calm herself. Somewhere out there, in the stars that she'd grown so sick of staring at day in and out, was their last hope. A safe harbor. A sanctuary. Earth.
End.