AN: The return of rampaging Roslin! You know you've missed her…

Disclaimer: Okay, so I've completely forgotten to disclaim this story up til now (were you fooled? Did you think BSG was my own brilliant creation? Sorry to disabuse you) so consider this a blanket disclaimer for all of The Ex-President. I do not own it, I just like to hang out in RDM's world.

The Ex-President

Part Three:

FATE

"In this short life

That only lasts an hour

How much - how little - is

Within our power"

~ Emily Dickinson ~

Chapter I

The Zephyr, one of the more easily recognisable of the fleet's ships by its enormous ring, was fit to burst. Hell, pretty much every ship in the fleet was overcrowded since the Cloud Nine disaster but Laura wasn't fighting her way through overly curious passengers on any other ship. She realised that they were probably wondering where she'd disappeared to after the election but, seriously, didn't they have anything better to do? Every time she had to stop and wait for a bottle-neck to unclog she got more and more annoyed, especially as people kept feeling the need to tell her 'I voted for you', as if she cared. If they didn't get out of her way soon she was going to explode and gods help anyone unfortunate enough to be standing between here and her destination.

She had to pound on her former aide's door more than once to get her to open up, though her tardiness in answering was quickly explained by the presence of a half-naked man in her quarters. Laura didn't look remotely abashed to have interrupted them as the anonymous stud hurriedly finished dressing and fled. Obviously Laura looked as pissed off as she felt; he hadn't even bothered tying his bootlaces. She snapped the door shut behind him.

By the look on her face, Tory knew she was in trouble, she just hadn't figured out what for yet as she pulled on a light, green sweater. 'This is a surprise.'

'So was finding Maya's name on a settlement list this morning,' said Laura, skipping the pleasantries.

'What? Maya's settling?' said Tory, obviously hearing the news for the first time.

'Perhaps something the person who's supposed to be keeping an eye on her should have known.'

'She didn't mention it last time I saw her.'

Laura raised her eyebrows, 'Which was?'

Tory rubbed her neck, looking distinctly uncomfortable. 'Maybe a fortnight ago.'

''Maybe a fortnight ago'?' she repeated incredulously. 'Well that's just perfect,' she spat. 'For frak's sake, Tory, do you have any idea -' she broke off, shaking her head, livid.

'Laura, I'm sorry-' began Tory, far too late.

'Frak 'sorry',' snapped Laura, exerting considerable restraint in the face of an overwhelming desire to throttle her former aide. 'If I can't convince her to change her mind…'

'I thought you were in charge of the settlement list,' she said, a touch of sulky accusation in her voice.

Laura's look was withering. 'And bumping them off it for no apparent reason won't look in the least bit suspicious. We can't afford to draw attention to them.'

As if she hadn't already thought of that. At most she could only delay Maya, and not for long at that. Once the second wave started descending on New Caprica it was all over.

'Drink?' asked Tory, apparently out of asinine ideas as she poured herself a generous measure of emerald ambrosia.

'No,' refused Laura, though she could do with both a stiff drink and a cigarette. 'I have to talk to Maya. Try and fix this.'

But she had a sinking feeling that the situation might just be irreparable.

'How'd it go?' asked Tory a little over an hour later. They'd agreed to meet in The Dockers' Arms after Laura's talk with Maya, a locale Laura instantly took advantage of by ordering a double whisky, neat, staunchly ignoring the attention she was getting from the other patrons.

'It didn't,' she said, grimacing as she took a generous gulp of her drink. 'What could I say? It's like you said, people want real beds in real homes breathing real air and they're willing to brave the elements, and fool themselves into thinking the cylons won't find us here, to get it. Nothing I said made an impact. People are idiots,' she muttered to herself, quickly emptying her glass and signalling for another.

As bad as Tory felt for failing to keep an eye on Maya she knew that even with early warning it probably wouldn't have made a difference, she'd still be moving down to the surface and they'd still be in the same predicament. She therefore didn't feel guilty enough to try to make up for this transgression by getting suckered into babysitting Maya and Isis down on New Caprica. Oh no, Tory Foster did not do tents. She wasn't overly fond of babies either, one of the reasons she hesitated to call on Maya too often, sitting there pretending to be interested in every erupting tooth and bellyache and the ability to sleep through the night.

'So what are you going to do?' she asked.

The 'you' wasn't lost on Laura who had pretty much expected this attitude, after all, it wasn't like she was Tory's boss anymore, she couldn't just order her to do it because the thought of having to do it herself was almost incomprehensible. Oh gods, Laura really didn't want to have to move down to the surface - but who else was there? Only three people knew Isis's true identity: herself, Tory and Doc Cottle. And as Tory would not and Cottle could not, given that he was enlisted, that left Laura almost literally holding the baby. She could almost feel the shackles of her presidency claiming her back. She might not be in the big chair anymore but she was no less bound to the oath she took and the decisions she made back then. 'Kill myself,' she said, shaking her head as if she could not believe the cards life kept dealing her.

Tory didn't know what to say. She sympathised, but valued her own happiness more. It was a dog eat dog world, sometimes you just had to look out for number one. 'When are the last batch of settlers scheduled to leave?' she finally asked.

Laura had dug her cigarettes out of her handbag and lit one now, slowly deflating as she exhaled. 'A month,' she said. 'They'll start transplanting people in two weeks - if they manage to mop up the flooding.'

'What are you going to do when you get down there?'

'How the hell should I know? I haven't exactly had much time to think about it, have I?' she said curtly. In fact she hadn't thought about it at all. She was thinking about it now though. She had a sudden urge to cry. She decided to scurry back to Galactica instead.

That night when she finally fell into a fitful sleep she did not dream about the Cloud Nine explosion or Baltar for once. She dreamed of Caprica instead, she dreamed she had been there when the bombs fell, a nightmare she imagined many in the fleet had shared, she dreamed of New Caprica and the bombs falling again and awoke in a blinding flash of nuclear light.

All of this has happened before and all of it will happen again.

She was a dead woman. She felt it in every limb as she lay cold in her bed, her only consolation that at least this time she would not have to live with the annihilation of the human race. Morbid as it was, that thought really did comfort her; she was tired of being one of the 'lucky' survivors, constantly having to pick herself up and troop on without the people she cared about.

She called Bill to beg off their run in the morning, not really in the mood to work out. To be honest, she was having trouble getting out of bed at all, she just wanted to snuggle down beneath the covers and imagine a life where she got to make her own decisions instead of being swept from pillar to post.

She was late for breakfast and couldn't face it when she got there, only pouring herself a cup of coffee. 'You look like hell,' said Bill, not troubling to sugar-coat his observation.

That's what she got for deciding she couldn't be bothered to apply foundation today. 'Headache,' she said, which wasn't just an excuse, the stress of the last twenty-four hours had culminated in a doozy.

'Let me get you some painkillers,' he said, getting up.

'That or a hammer,' she requested, massaging her eyes.

'We'll call that plan B.'

'Thanks,' she said, popping the lid off the bottle. She'd taken a couple of painkillers after she'd called him this morning but they'd hardly made a dent.

'Did you get any sleep?'

'Are the circles under my eyes that dark?' she asked, hoping to assuage his obvious concern with a joke and a small smile. He wasn't convinced.

'Maybe you picked something up aboard the Zephyr. I hear there's flu going around.'

'Honestly, it's just a headache, Bill. You want to do me a favour? Show me how to mute your phones.'

She was still attempting to smile, but underneath alarm bells had started ringing. Up till now all she'd thought about was how awful it would be to live on New Caprica, all of a sudden it began to dawn on her what she would be leaving behind on Galactica. She tried to imagine not seeing Bill every day, not having him there to gripe to, or laugh with, or steal books from. He was the best friend she had in the world and she found herself feeling a little knock-kneed as she contemplated facing the challenge of making a life on New Caprica without his support to keep her sane.

Every time she got attached to someone Fate threw a spanner in the works. Every single frakking time. Her headache throbbed ever more painfully. She didn't know how she was going to tell Bill she was leaving without cracking up, let alone convince him that it was of her own volition after the way she'd carried on in the last couple of months. What was she going to tell him when he asked her why she was doing it?

She couldn't exactly tell him she had to move down to the surface to keep an eye on the human/cylon hybrid she had conspired with a member of his crew to kidnap from his ship without his knowledge. She didn't think it would go down very well, nor was she willing to risk news of Hera's survival getting out should Bill decide to reverse her decision. She was convinced that would mean almost certain death for the child, not to mention breaking Maya's heart. Laura knew that she had given Hera her only chance of a normal life, she'd made the right choice, why did these things always end up biting her in the ass?

'Maybe you should lie down for a while,' said Bill, touching her arm to get her attention.

'Maybe I will,' she agreed. 'I think I have a migraine coming on.' Well, she had wanted to stay in bed all day; the way things were shaping up she just might get her wish.

AN: Would love to hear what you think of the story so far and the sudden emergence of some actual plot (I think). Hopefully chapter 2 will be ready soon… ish. :P