This story is a coda/introspective for Daybreak. It's also a rare foray into drabbledom for me; I rarely write less than a 1000 words. Feedback welcome!
ANCHOR
Unconsciousness beckoned, singeing the edges of her vision and blunting the cacophony of CIC into a dull roar. The deck lurched disconcertingly beneath her, and for a moment she was unsure whether it was Galactica that was unsteady, or her own failing legs. Arms tightened around her, a secure band of steel that held her up when everything else was going to pieces. She clung to them, relishing the feel of muscle and sinew and wool beneath her fingers: they tethered her to reality, along with the solid chest behind her and the voice that boomed orders and demanded reports. She knew he was glad she was there, her presence simultaneously a balm and a dull ache, her fragile body a reminder that her hold on life was becoming weaker by the hour.
She could have chosen to return to Colonial One, or to stay in Life Station, to go with morphine-induced quietness into that good night, but that was not her way. The office of president was no longer hers in name, but in deed and thought and every way that mattered she was still the leader of what remained of the once-proud Twelve Colonies of Kobol. Nowhere was the spirit of those colonies more present than here on Galactica as the crew of a dying ship limped to the rescue of a hybrid child who might be the shape of things to come, and she would not consent to staying behind. Her own life was linked to Hera's in ways she could not fathom, beyond fear and hate and love and redemption; if she died on this mission, it would be oddly appropriate - a circle closing at last. Death was not her enemy now, he had become a neighbour often glimpsed whose welcome was long overdue. She had cheated Death once before, and she would not try again. If this mission was the fools' errand Bill thought it, she would rather die with him in a blaze of purpose and sacrifice than alone in her sterile bed.
So she gripped his arms with all the strength she could muster, and forced herself to stay awake, to remain anchored to life a little longer, held by him and need and destiny. She was still the Dying Leader, and her journey was not yet complete.