Summer

Laura set her glasses on her desk and rubbed her eyes as the janitor walked past, on his way home for the night.

"You still here for a while, Miss Roslin?"

"Yes, I've still got a few forms to finish. I'll be done soon, I hope."

"All right. Take care."

"Good night."

She waited until she heard the door click shut, and the lock slide into place. It was dark, past a normal dinner time. Not that that mattered. There was no one for her to go home to, just a lonely house of memories. After another minute or two, she slid the already finished forms into a drawer and stalked into the staff room. She lifted the pie she'd made the night before out of its plastic bag, walked to the mayor's closed office door and let herself in.

"Richard?"

"Laura."

Adar smiled at her from the meeting table at one side. It had been set for two, along with a bottle of sparkling cider and a plate of elegant sandwiches.

"I'm sorry. It was the best I could find today."

She smiled back and offered the pie. "That's fine. Simplicity can be wondrous at times." She kicked her heels off, shrugged her jacket onto the chair, and began to unbutton her dress. She turned away and pulled her spare clothes out of the wall safe. The dress joined the heels and she came back to the table in a plain blouse and gauzy skirt that trailed on the floor behind her. Adar had removed his tie and jacket.

He filled her glass, and they began to relax, speaking of the day's events.

"I'm going to run for the presidency, Laura."

She sipped her drink. "And? You wouldn't be telling me this for nothing."

"I'd like you to be my Secretary of Education."

"You have such faith in me. I've barely been here for a whole term." She schooled her face to stone, revealing nothing.

He smiled. "I've come to know you so well. I think I know you better that anyone else here." He reached over and pulled her onto his lap. "What do you think?"

A hundred images flashed through her. Tissue paper. Presents. Cops. Fountains. The aftermath. Hospitals. Flowers.

The lonely house.

"I accept."

Fall

Laura sat in her chair, waiting for the make-up artist to finish. There was a photo-shoot of the new President and his staff. The artist smiled and moved on to the next person, leaving Laura alone.

She carefully pulled the rollers out of her hair, then brushed it so it fell in soft loops about her shoulders. The mirror reflected a strange new person, she thought. The woman in the glass had a professional, serious aura. She was immaculate, from dark cherry curls to the silver dress and blue evening gloves. So unlike the Miss Roslin of the kindergarden classes. That Laura had been perfectly disordered. This Laura wasn't even wearing glasses, she thought sadly. This Laura had contacts for the photo. This Laura was another of Richard Adar's pretty toys.

"All presidential staff, report to the B Photo Room."

She sighed, and drifted through the halls, a drop in a river of silver and blue. A photographer greeted her, steered her to a pedestal next to the Minister of Defense and the Ambassador to Picon. She smiled, waved, sparkled, perfectly on cue. An eternity later, they were released to go.

On the way out, she saw Richard, and his wife, Sarah. She walked up to them from behind. Richard was wearing a silver suit and dark blue tie, like the other men. Sarah was dressed like Laura and the other women for her "Presidential Family" photos.

"President Adar."

He turned, expecting another reporter. "Laura. How are you? Sarah, you remember Laura, don't you? Our new Secretary of Education."

Sarah smiled, in a way an innocent could. "Laura! Richard was so excited when you agreed to run with his campaign!"

Laura blushed. If only you knew why. "Thank you."

A real reporter approached, and the President turned away. Sarah paused. "Would you like to join us for dinner sometime? Next week, maybe?"

"Of course. Thank you." She backed away into the argent masses, disguising her sins in shimmering silk.

Late that night, she watched the news. Richard's face was splashed across the screen at regular intervals, but she was hidden in the background, hidden in washes of silver. Perfect. The spotlight was a horrid place to be, in her opinion. Better to stay in the shadows and mastermind from there.

She jumped slightly when her own face popped up on the news. She barely recognised herself, made-up and dressed in silver silk.

"Former kindergarten teacher Laura Roslin is the newest Secretary of Education."

A video washed over the news anchor's face. It was an old video, footage of a new teacher in the Caprican public schools. Laura smiled. That had been a good day. They had been studying butterflies, and the video showed the class in a field, searching for the insects. Her hair was blowing in the wind, red strands mixing with her green scarf. The video cut back to a news anchor outside the B photo room.

"Ms. Roslin- how do you feel about your new post?"

The silver woman hummed softly. "I think. . . I think it'll be quite an interesting experience. I haven't worked on anything of this magnitude before, but I'm confident in my staff. . . and myself."

"Good luck, Madam Secretary."

Laura flicked the television off and leaned back.

I'll need all the luck I can get.

Winter

Laura reached out and raised the volume of her stereo. Classical music rolled through the empty house, drowning the phone. It had been ringing incessantly since she had finished the public school reforms.

The answering machine clicked on, and someone began to speak. Laura sighed and turned the volume back down.

"Hello, Ms. Roslin. This is Ishy Reed from the Caprica Star. I was hoping to interview you about your reform legislation. I understand you're busy, but if you have the time, call me back at 467-55-3452. Thanks!"

"Ms Roslin? I'm Rod Miller from Picon Daily-"

"This is Anna from the Geminon Tribune-"

"The Tauron Gazette-"

"Heibei Sora-"

"Ms. Roslin?"

"I was hoping for an interview-"

"The reforms-"

She ripped the phone's electrical cord out of the wall. Classical music began to roar again, and Laura set a blank canvas on her easel. She wasn't a particularly good artist, she thought, but she enjoyed painting. She painted with her bare fingers, and the touch of cool paint and canvas was a relief after a day of politics, reporters, and bright lights.

The house was cool, bordering on cold, but she hadn't turned up the heat because the warmth made her tired. She glanced out the window at the snow and dark trees and began to paint. Pale blue-gray, white, ashy dark gray.

She focused tightly on the picture and the music, mentally playing the notes. A priestess had suggested meditation has a form of dealing with grief. It helped, somewhat. Keeping her mind blank was getting easier, and it was a relief to temporarily shed her past, her politics, and people in general.

Then her phone rang. The cell phone, the one she couldn't unplug.

"Yes?"

"Laura? Where are you? What are you doing?" Richard.

She reached out and turned the stereo to low again. "Just listening to music. Why? What's going on?"

"Laura, look out the window. You were supposed to be at the Capitol building nearly an hour ago for the photoshoot prep."

She twitched the curtain back. The sun had set. How long was I painting? I thought it was just a few minutes. She looked at the clock; it was nearly five-thirty. Hours. I started. . .before lunch? After? I don't know. . .

"I'm telling them you're stuck in traffic, but you need to get over here, now."

"Mmm...be there soon." She ended the call and tossed the phone onto the sofa. Paint coated her hands and streaked up her arms. She grabbed a pair of gloves and a coat and slipped out the door.

She arrived less than ten minutes later, pushed past the newsmen at the door, joined the 42 people more important than her, and the few that were less.

"Laura! So glad you made it- President Adar said you were stuck in traffic."

"Third Street is always busy. I prefer taking Seventh."

She smiled, and hurried to the women's dressing room. A formal dress was hung on her rack, like always, shoes of the day on her shelf. She tossed her clothes over a chair, dropped her bag. The dress was electric blue, the Caprican Party's color. It was close-fitting, dropping to her knees, the only accent a single ruffle along the neck-line. She slipped it on and sighed. Doubtlessly, the men on the cabinet were wearing dark blue. Everyone but her. They kept pushing her to the front of photos, dressing her in bright colors, trying to shove her to the spotlight. While the Capricans were popular, that was fine, but the instant the poll ratings slipped, she'd be the first to fall into the snake-pit of tabloids.

Another woman slipped in. "I'm your artist today, Secretary." She unloaded a box of supplies, plugged in a curling iron, poured pencils and brushes across the counter. "Are you already wearing any make-up? No? Good. Open your eyes." She snapped her nitrile gloves, and picked up a set of bright emerald-green contacts and other various bits. "Hold still, good. Close your eyes. Open. Look up. Close. Open and blink. Keep blinking. Stop. Smile. Okay. Close your eyes, I'm going to powder you. Okay. Hold still." She turned away and pulled out several tubes of lipstick, holding each to Laura's dress before finally choosing a bright red. "This's Leonard Marco #5, if you're wearing something blue again. It's got a light blue tint to it. Nothing really noticeable, just enough to match. Rub your lips together. Smile." She stripped the gloves and picked up the iron.

Laura watched her reflection tiredly. If only I could have seen myself now when I was teaching kindergarden. She waited for the other woman to finish dousing her with hairspray, and then politely escaped. Just a few photos, and it'll be over.

Spring

Laura shook her feet, one at a time, to make sure her heels were firmly stuck on. She stepped outside, locked her door behind her, and faced the masses.

"Secretary Roslin- do you have anything to say about the Seacade Scandal?"

"Three of your top aides were arrested-"

"Embezzlement-"

"Secretary Roslin-"

She hurried down her steps and shouldered through the pressmen, one hand shielding her face. They were all screaming at her, shrieking questions. She kept her eyes down, saying nothing.

Someone grabbed her elbow, and she stumbled sideways as a flashbulb exploded in her face. Damn it. She turned away and nearly ran the remaining few yards to her car. She slid in, rolled up the windows, and reversed down the drive, schooling her face to neutrality. The cameras flashed all around her, chasing her down the street until she was going to fast for them to keep up.

A guard greeted her at the Capitol after she parked. He followed her up to the offices, then nodded and left her at the door. She watched him go, then slipped into the office.

"Laura- what is this?" The PR manager was at her side, waving several papers in her face. "Seacade? What's going on? Please tell me you didn't know anything about this."

"I didn't... I don't. I just got a call from Wally this morning. He said something had come up."

"'Something came up?' No shit, Sherlock! Gods, this is the biggest thing to hit the press since the election."

She bit her tongue. "George, will you please tell me what's going on? Wally wouldn't say."

George sputtered furiously. "Laura, three of your aides have been arrested for embezzlement and influence peddling in the Seacade school district. It happened on your watch, so you're the one getting called on it."

"What?" She felt like she was hearing it from far away. "Who?"

"Laura?"

He seemed to grow taller, and her world dissolved into shadows.

"I think she just passed out," someone said.

"No shit," George sighed and lowered her to the floor. "I suppose she's either a very accomplished liar or she really doesn't know what's going on." He flipped the papers open across the tables. "'Seacade: Scandal of the Century'. 'Inter-Planetary Embezzlement'. 'Laura Roslin- Sinner or Saint?' How the papers already know. . . they must have had an inside source." He drew a worn vial out of his pocket, unscrewed it, and held it under the Secretary's nose. "We might as well tell her what we know."

Summer

Laura Roslin stood on the marble stairs before the Capitol building. People were passing by on the sidewalk below, rarely sparing glances for the politicos emerging from the darkness.

"Never again." She said the words aloud, letting the air carry them away. "Never again. Never ever again." She hurried down the stairs, pulling a light scarf over her head. Her letter of resignation was in her pocket, but she had to meet the Caprican schoolteachers before she handed it in.

"My political life is over," she muttered. "I'll find a nice house, somewhere far away- Leonis or Aquaria or Aerilon, maybe. Work in a school again. Not politics. Never again. Nothing with a hint of spotlight."

She had thought the first days following the arrests would be the worst, with her face plastered across the papers and tabloids. The most popular photo was the one where she had tripped on the way to her car, hand half shielding her face and a surprised expression. The glossy covers were spattered with bold headlines that shrieked "embezzlement" and "corruption."

It had gotten worse after those first days, though. Ten long, stumbling days of interrogation. She had never been much of a public speaker and the pressure of the Colonial Tribunal had emphasized that. Richard had come to her rescue several times, and at the end, she was finally acquitted. It was enough to turn her away from another term, however, despite her recovering popularity.

She hurried down the stairs and joined the river of people, careful to keep her scarf over her hair and face. The acquittal hadn't pleased everyone, and three months wasn't enough to erase her face from millions of memories. Thus, she had chosen her meeting place with care. It was on the campus of a small Caprican university, the lesser courtyard where not as many people chose to wander. A perfect quadrangle for secrets and skeletons.

Laura smiled thinly and laughed."Politics. Never again."

The sun broke out of the clouds, as though some great power had heard. Laura flicked her scarf over her shoulder, swung her bag over her shoulder, and prowled into the depths of Caprica City.