Disclaimer:BSG belongs to Ronald D. Moore and Universal Studios. I own my imagination.
Timeline/Spoiles: Bastille Day
Coding:Roslin/Lee, Roslin/Adama
Lessons In Defeat
Laura opens her eyes.
She smiles, for a moment, the way she used to; the way she has every morning for the last month because for a few precious moments, she forgets that human extinction was close at hand, forgets her friends are dead and the continuation of humankind still hangs in the balance.
She closes her eyes again as the burden of memory returns. She doesn't want to get up, but she has to put on a brave front. She expects it of her people - so she must set the example. She has to fight the urge to hide in her room because she carries the weight of two battles: humanities survival and the one raging inside her body.
She feels weak from the chemotherapy, but survival has its price and she's grateful just to be alive. She thinks of the people who didn't make it and wonders why she was spared when she was destined to die anyway.
Laura climbs out of bed, washes and dresses, then applies foundation around her eyes - hiding the tiredness. Then she's ready to face what's left of the world.
First on her schedule is a meeting with the new Education Secretary to discuss a curriculum for the surviving children - at least it's territory she knows, something familiar where she can feel like her old self. Then a late morning conference with Adama before her daily address to the surviving people of Kobol. Lunch, chemotherapy, followed by more meetings and public events.
Billy knocks on her door and she answers it with a confident smile.
"How are you feeling this morning?" he asks.
She nods assuredly. "I'm good," and notices Billy's look of uncertainty. "I'm not going to break, Billy – so you can stop looking at me like that."
"Sorry," he mumbles.
She immediately feels guilty; since the news about the destruction of Caprica, he seems to have shifted his attention to her as a means of easing the loss of his loved ones: they're each other's family now.
"I didn't mean to snap," she says gently. "Look – we have a busy day ahead, don't worry about me - I've survived an apocalypse, I'll be damned if cancer is going to get me!"
He grins.
"Okay?"
He nods. "Okay."
Laura straightens her shirt collar. "I'm ready when you are."
* * * * * *
Adama sits at his desk, his mind racing. He and his crew were spending every moment thinking up ways to improve conditions in the fleet, make supplies last longer, keep moral up - and Laura Roslin still demanded more. Her inability to keep out of his way infuriates him; she's always there – questioning, challenging, suggesting alternatives and he resents it because she woke up one day and became their leader, and she does it so effortlessly... but it took years of discipline and dedication for him to be this good at his job.
He knows she was right, had been right from the start. Fleeing was their only option, but sometimes, he begrudges her for making them do it. Sometimes he resents that in all the chaos, she could see clearly. And while he doesn't always agree with her, he respects her position as President.
There's a knock at his door.
"Come in," he calls.
Laura enters. "Good morning, Commander," she greets cordially, and whatever she may say about him, William Adama keeps her mind sharp. Keeps her struggling to hold on, fighting not to lose their humanity in the face of this defeat.
"Madam President," he replies.
She takes her customary seat on the couch and he sits opposite her.
She crosses her legs and rests her hands in her lap. She looks so serene that he wants to shake her.
"Coffee?" he offers.
"Please."
"The Raptor has located a planet with raw materials that we can convert into fuel," he informs her as he pours the coffee.
She waits for the 'but' because nothing's easy anymore.
He doesn't disappoint. "But… there's a high-voltage energy field around the planet, if we send a shuttle it will make it through the planet's atmosphere on entry but there's a chance it might not survive the return journey. The radiation from the energy field could perforate the exterior, destroying the shuttle."
Roslin likes that Adama gets straight to the matter, no red tape - sometimes she finds it disconcerting but she's always preferred the no-nonsense approach.
Laura nods her understanding. "So then we'd lose crewmembers and a shuttle?"
"Yes, but the fleet needs to refuel and we're running out of options, this planet may be our only chance – we might not make it to the next solar. It's worth the risk, Madame President."
She removes her glasses and twists them between thumb and forefinger.
"Do it," she instructs.
He nods. "Yes, Ma'am."
* * * * * *
Laura doesn't like being alone, not anymore. There's too much sadness to repress and she finds it difficult when she's surrounded by silence - as if it's a gulf that's about to swallow her whole and she doesn't want to disappear.
There are many questions she wants answers to, but the longer she lives, the more she realizes there are no answers. Nothing is clear-cut, it all balances on compromise and she's spent her whole life relying on others to make the best decision. She was 43rd in line of succession to the Presidency. She has always tried to avoid politics and now she's all that remains of the political system.
In her darker moments, she thinks the dead are the lucky ones – they are at rest, without fear of the future.
She tries to block these thoughts, but they creep into her mind, scratch at her subconscious and claw at her hopes.
She's always been an optimist but that's because she always had others around her for support. Now she's the one being supported and it scares her because she's supposed to know what to do - she has the people turning to her, expecting her to know what to do.
* * * * * *
Billy is reading out the daily reports. She knows he looks out for her, tries to make her responsibilities lighter, but today she feels vacant and her concentration is waning. Her mind slips into blankness and she feels herself welcome the vacuity. She's weak today. Her body is screaming out against the chemo and she wants to collapse into oblivion.
Her fingers tap on the desktop and Billy knows he's lost her attention somewhere between sonic showers and cabbage shortages.
"Madam President?"
She looks up, suddenly catching herself. "Yes, Billy?"
"Ma'am, if you don't mind my saying – maybe you should take on more deputies to help you filter through what's urgent and what can be dealt with by someone less prominent than yourself."
She smiles at him. "I'm sorry I faded out there, but I promise, I'll try to do better. Every issue is important - even cabbages deserve their day. Don't you think?"
The young aide grins. "Yes Ma'am."
* * * * * *
In the afternoon, Commander Adama breaks the news to her - the shuttle has successfully returned; they had been lucky.
* * * * * *
Roslin walks through the corridors of Galactica, smiling courteously at everyone she passes and they all nod respectfully at her.
She glimpses sight of Apollo turning the corner and attempts to catch him up, calling. "Captain Apollo."
He stops in his tracks and grins; instantly recognizing her voice.
"Madam President," he says as he turns to face her.
"I need your advice on something," she says as she walks towards him.
His eyebrows rise in peaked curiosity.
"I wanted to ask your opinion on the practical use of the crystals gathered from the recent CIC mission," she says and they walk side-by-side along the corridor. "I was wondering if it would be possible to - " she pauses and slows her pace.
Lee stops. "Madame President?" he asks with concern.
Laura pales. "Yes… I…" she looks about, as if confused and then collapses.
Lee catches Roslin before she hits the deck. He gathers her into his arms and carries Laura's limp body to the nearest alcove.
Slowly, he lowers himself to the floor, supporting her. "Madame President?" he whispers and gently pats her face, trying to wake her. "Madame President?" he checks her eyes, then her pulse; her breathing is shallow and for a moment, he panics, unsure what to do.
He brushes the hair away from her face. "Come on – don't do this to me," he whispers. He doesn't want to alert anyone – if it got around the fleet that the President had been incapacitated, even for a moment, there could be all kinds of repercussions.
He looks down at her and she begins to stir.
He sighs with relief. Laura opens her eyes and stares into his anxious face.
"Are you alright?" Lee asks.
She sits up, pulling away from him. "I'm fine. I'm always fine, thank you," she says, obviously disconcerted. "I must have over-done it today, that's all." She moves as if to stand.
Lee puts a firm hand on her arm, "Take it slowly," he cautions.
Roslin doesn't want a repeat performance, so she stays sitting and rests her back against the wall. She takes a few breaths.
"What happened?" she asks.
"We were talking, you became confused and then you blacked out – just buckled."
She looks mortified. "Buckled?"
He nods.
"Did anyone see?" she asks.
He shakes his head. "No, I got you to the alcove before - "
Laura sighs with relief. "Thank you," she says appreciatively.
He smiles and, not for the first time, he tries to distinguish the colour of her eyes. Now they're a greeney-hazel colour.
"You should see a doctor," he suggests.
"They've done all they can for me," she replies.
He looks fretful. "But I thought you were - I mean – you are getting treatment?"
Laura wants to tell him everything, but she doesn't have the heart.
She studies him for a moment. "Thank your for your help and your discretion, Captain Apollo," she says, getting to her feet.
He stands.
She straightens her shoulders, trying to regain some dignity. "I'll get back to you on the matter of the crystals."
He nods. "Yes, Madame President."
She turns away from Lee... wishing she could confide in him.
* * * * * *
William Adama has always looked for the good fight, he felt it was his duty, his calling to stand-up and be counted. Now he finds himself searching the universe for a planet to settle on and 'settle' was never in his vocabulary before he met her. Laura Roslin has changed his outlook.
Recently, he finds himself thinking more and more on the dead and sometimes this grief feels too much to bear. He wants to reach out to someone, to share it – but he's the Commander, there is no one for him to turn to. Except her.
Laura Roslin.
She's the President but she's still a woman and she sits across from him every day, shares her concerns and plans for their future, yet he can't reach out and take her hand. There are certain restrictions. It's unspoken; taking her hand would be breaking the rules they've set themselves.
They're in one of their meetings and they're arguing; again.
Roslin frowns. "What about - " she begins.
He holds up his hands to stop her. "My staff and I have been through every possible scenario - and you and I did agree that, from a military position, I'm running this ship - you have no expertise in - "
"I'm well aware of where my expertise lies, Commander," she interrupts; sometimes she wonders just how stupid he thinks she is. "But this isn't a military operation - it's a political matter, therefore, it falls under my jurisdiction."
They hold each other's gaze. Her expression is determined. "Now might be a good time to create guidelines defining what constitutes a 'military' issue and a 'political' issue - to avoid future altercations," he suggests.
She smiles, one of her secret smiles, and he wonders if she's laughing at him.
"Sounds reasonable," she concurs. "But we have to be careful - every situation is unique, we can't make sweeping generalisations - "
"We can't afford not to make generalizations – which we'll amend as we go."
"I agree that it's important for us to keep re-evaluating our decisions," Laura pauses, looking momentarily lost: her eyes filled with memories. Sometimes it still feels like a dream, like one day she'll wake up. And her arm is covered in bruises from where she's pinched herself, hoping to awaken. She holds Adama's gaze and says in a voice she doesn't recognise. "Aren't you tired?"
He is still.
He misses the feel of rain against his skin, misses the mauve dawn of the sky, misses the feel of grass between his toes, misses the careless laughter of children; misses the simplicity of life before the Cylon attacks. "Yes," he replies.
She leans forward. "I don't have much energy these days, Commander. So I don't want to waste it arguing over matters that we can handle more efficiently."
He nods, suddenly feeling ashamed. "I think that you're right but sometimes, fighting with you is the only way I know I'm still alive. However, we should make more productive use of our time - we shouldn't be working against each other."
Her eyes seem to clear of their fog. She smiles. "You know, sometimes you can be quite eloquent."
He gives a rare smile. "I'll take that as a compliment."
"That's the way it was intended."
They're silent for a moment.
She looks at him thoughtfully. "I know we have our differences but I'm glad I have someone to confront me - you keep me honest, I appreciate that."
He reaches across the table separating them and picks up her empty coffee cup, refills it and holds it out to her.
She takes it and smiles graciously. "Thank you."
* * * * * *
A briefing has been organized to discuss the development of the detection of Cylon's in their midst and Laura feels Apollo's eyes following her every movement; but when she looks directly at him, Lee averts his gaze.
Commander Adama is questioning Dr. Baltar and as he refers to Roslin, she realizes that no one here calls her by her name. No one has called her 'Laura' since the day she left Caprica. She is 'Madame President', 'Sir' or 'Ma'am'.
And maybe it's her way of coping, because Laura has accepted 'President Roslin' as her identity; hides behind the façade - that way she doesn't have to deal with her own pain. Laura Roslin lost her friends, her home – everything… but 'President Roslin' has no past. She exists only in the present.
The briefing ends and as everyone filters out of the room, Lee captures her arm. "May I speak with you?" he asks.
Laura turns to Billy and indicates for him to give her a minute. Dutifully, he leaves the room, closing the door after him.
She and Lee are alone and suddenly the room seems vast and every word amplified. "Yes, Captain Apollo?"
"Your condition has gotten worse, hasn't it?" he wants to help her like she's helped him. Just being in her presence feels like shelter and he wants to help her feel the same - wants to shield her.
She holds his eye. "Yes," she replies, hoping he doesn't notice the slight tremble in her voice.
He gazes steadily at her. "Madame President…"
She looks defiant, like he'll have to demolish her to get the truth.
"Laura…" and he sees the use of her first name bring down her defences. "Please, it's me, remember... Captain Apollo. Talk to me."
She sits down and Lee takes the chair beside her.
"Initially it was N-stage carcinoma of the breast, now it's spread…" she tells him.
"What are they doing about it?" he demands.
Roslin smiles because she'd thought that in all this mayhem, if she kept her heart hidden, then maybe it wouldn't get hurt again... but she's only known Lee a short time and he has just shattered that illusion.
She stands, puts her hand on his shoulder and kisses his cheek affectionately. "Everything that can be done is being done," she says and moves towards the door.
"What does that mean?" he asks.
She heads out of the room and looks over her shoulder at him. "It means none of us are here indefinitely, Captain Apollo – we all have to die and maybe my time will be sooner than I expected, but I'm not quite done yet," she smiles warmly at him and pulls the conference door open. "Thank you for your concern, it means a lot to me" she says, genuinely touched, and leaves him alone with his thoughts.
Billy is waiting for her in the hall. They exchange a smile and then start down the corridor. "Your next appointment is with Laine at 15.30," Billy informs her, reading from her schedule book.
Roslin gives him a half-smile. "And life goes on," she says, more to herself than Billy.
~The End~