Coddled
By Oonagh
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Author's Note: Set immediately after Epiphanies. We didn't get to see much of Roslin immediately after her cure and so I'm taking the liberty of speculating about people's reactions. If I don't stop now this note will be longer than the story…
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Are you all right, Madame President? Would you like a seat, Madame President? Do you need a glass of water, Madame President? Are you sure you shouldn't rest now, Madame President? These questions, and many others, haunt my every waking moment. Every single person I come across every single day looks at me with wary eyes, treats me with care, like a glass ornament. And sometimes I think that I'll slap the next person who asks after my health.
When I was dying no one mentioned it, the topic was avoided at all costs when I was around. No one knew what to say and everyone was afraid of offending. But now I'm on the mend, my prognosis is positive, and everyone feels the need to offer advice, to make sure I don't break. And so they coddle me, like a small child, wrapping me in cotton wool to prevent damage. I feel more like an invalid now than I did when the spectre of death hounded my every step.
So, for this reason I put off my return to Colonial One at the end of the day. Instead, I walk toward Admiral Adama's quarters, the one place I can be assured of feeling normal. I knock the door and enter at his call, knowing that my arrival would surprise him but that he would welcome me anyway. And that he would treat me as he always had. With grudging respect and gentle humour or repressed fury and brooding disappointment, depending on his mood. Either way, he will say what he feels without thinking first on whether I, in my fragile state, can take it. He will treat me like a whole person, he always does, and for that reason I seek out his company at every opportunity. And, recently, I have come to realise that I enjoy it more than I ever thought I would.