Battlestar Galactica, Brig: 15:00
The president let out a sharp cry as she woke roughly. The vision that had just moments ago seemed so clear slipped away as she sat up slowly, trying to get her bearings.
The brig, she said to herself. You're in the brig. Adama has been shot, Lee committed mutiny, and Tigh is wreaking havoc on the fleet.
As alarming as each fact was, the fact that she could recall them was comforting nonetheless. She was starting to realize it wouldn't be much longer until she lost all hold on reality and it terrified her. The weakness, the pain, the knowledge that she was going to die and soon were all things she could handle, all things she'd resigned herself to not long ago. But slowly losing her mind was an unexpected part of the equation and not one she could accept just yet.
Her scream summoned Billy from his post just outside the door. The young aide hadn't been thrown in the brig and, according to Adama and Tigh, Roslin was no longer the president. He had no official reason to stay in the cold, dark military jail but loyalty and fear compelled him to remain by her side, close enough as ever to rush to her when she needed him.
The guard had also rushed to the bars, giving her a concerned look.
"Madam President?" Billy tried to keep his voice firm, using her title with intention. She looked in his direction but he couldn't tell if she could understand his words.
"What's wrong with her?" Venner had been trying to ignore the prisoner's rapid deterioration, reminding himself that his duty was to protect the fleet from the people who found themselves behind these bars. But this woman, with her silk blouse and gentle demeanor, was a far cry from drunk and disorderly pilots and the marines who often wound up on Tigh's bad side.
Billy shot him an annoyed look. "I don't know but she's obviously sick, you can see that, can't you?"
Venner met the other man's annoyance with panic. His orders required him to ignore his feelings, no matter how uncomfortable he had become with watching the president writhe fitfully on her cot, calling out increasingly frantic and nonsensical words.
Billy gave up on the guard and ran to the other side of the cage, where the president now stood, seemingly watching the exchange.
"Madam President." Her eyes flashed with recognition, either of him or at her title, and she verbalized affirmation that she was listening. He continued intentionally, keeping his voice calm and his gaze level.
"Can I get you anything while you're in the brig?"
"Oh, oh, Billy," she gasped. Her knees almost betrayed her as she heard his words. She'd forgotten he was there. She'd forgotten that there was anyone left in the world who cared that she was still alive. Willing herself to use this knowledge to direct her thoughts into coherent sentences, she eyed the guard and shook her head.
"No, thank you." She sounded less than convincing but Venner decided the best thing he could do for her was retreat to his post and pretend whatever conversation was about to be had was simply not happening.
Billy took a step closer and President Roslin followed suit, clutching the bar to steady herself. He lightly placed his fingers over hers, his eyes never leaving her face.
Her heart broke when he saw the terror written on the younger man's face. He hadn't even signed up for being an aide to the president, much less being saddled with watching her fall apart. She figured that he, too, was most alarmed by the rapid decline of her mental state. She cursed herself for having gotten so many people so deeply involved and then not being able to follow through.
"I'm sorry." He knew the words were meant for him but also for everyone who'd stood by her side on Colonial One. He winced as he realized once again the she was in pain and that her primary concern was for everyone else around her. He didn't halt her words, however. She was surprisingly cogent for a few moments and he didn't know how long that clarity would last.
"I'm finding it hard to think. It's withdra…" Her voice trailed off but she started again. "Withdrawals from the…"
"The chamalla." She nodded and his heart leapt a bit. That he could handle. Or at least he could try. The knowledge that she might return, that she might once again be powerful, in charge President Roslin buoyed his commitment to finding the medicine to get her there.
"I'm trying to get you more." He glanced over at the guard before turning back to the president, whose face had slackened with relief.
"Go fast." Billy took her words as a presidential order and turned on his heels, intent on finding Tigh and demanding that the military man concede to basic humanity and give a dying prisoner her medication.
Venner watched him go and then snuck a glance at the woman in the cell, who had slowly turned away from the bars and sat down gingerly on the cot, back to him. He wondered again what the hell was wrong with her and when his commanding officers were going to come to their senses and get her to Sick Bay, where she obviously belonged.