Chapter 2

Cupid is a knavish lad,

Thus to make poor females mad.

Tom Zarek waited.

He was tired but he couldn't sleep. He was hungry but he knew that even one small bite would stick in his throat. He wanted to get up and leave Laura's quarters but he couldn't do that either. It was as if the woman had trapped him into a state of complete inevitability and she was the only destination. He settled on simply trying to sleep - but that mostly turned into watching her sleep, knowing that soon enough she would wake up, and those green eyes would fixate on him once more with predatory animosity. He couldn't exactly fault her for it, given their antagonistic history. A night of chance misadventure wasn't going to change that. He had always been certain that he didn't like her much. Well, he didn't.

Or at least, he didn't like her politics. But the woman….

It was exactly this train of thought that was making his head hurt and he hadn't even had a drink tonight.

Nighttime was slowly fading into the first tenuous hours of morning when Laura finally stirred, rolling over a couple of times, and finally blinking her eyes. She looked up blearily at the ceiling and then turned her head in his direction. He could tell the very instant her vision came into focus, when the drowsy haze of peaceful sleep shifted into displeased awareness – of him.

"Mr. Zarek." Her voice was hoarse as she looked at him with that frost-tipped gaze.

Tom leaned forward in his chair, slightly, and acknowledged her. His smile was effortless.

"Madame President."

Laura skipped the pleasantries. "What are you doing in my room?"

"Do you remember anything from last night?"

Laura sat up slowly and Tom watched her put a hand to her forehead. There was pain in her expression.

"Mr. Zarek, my head is throbbing and my patience level is thin - so please – do me the courtesy of not answering a question with a question. What the hell are you doing here?"

"I'll give you the short version," Tom offered cheerfully, "You bumped into me in the hall last night after having some drinks with the Tighs. You were tipsy and I, wanting to ensure your safety, escorted you to your room."

"That doesn't explain what you're still doing here," Laura pointed out. Even Tom couldn't argue with that logic. Truly, he'd rather not think about the reasons that he'd lingered.

Laura peered closely at him, trying to frame the fragmented pieces of her jumbled memory into one complete picture. She hastily pushed the blanket off of her body and sat up. Too fast. She emitted an involuntary groan.

"You should take it slowly," cautioned Tom. "I'm going to get you some water and some pain reliever." Tom rose, went into the head, and returned with a bottle of red and blue pills and a cup of water.

When he returned, Laura was sitting at the edge of the bed, head in her hands. She had attempted to fix her rumpled blouse and skirt, to smooth her tousled hair, but even with her best efforts, she still looked like someone who had spent the evening sleeping in her clothes. She didn't look hung-over; she merely looked tired. But even disheveled, she was still piercingly lovely. Or at least she had been before she'd opened her eyes and started glaring shards of ice in his direction. Tom handed her the water and the aspirin and watched her slowly take them.

Laura sat quietly for a few moments, collecting her thoughts and constructing details from the prior evening. Tom was content to simply watch her, wanting to give her ample room to clear her head.

"Last night…you brought me to my room," Laura began uncertainly. She paused as images and sensations from the previous night filled her mind, haltingly, like something just barely out of reach. "I held onto you," she remembered with surprise as she swallowed a second sip of water.

Tom nodded and murmured an affirmation.

"I threw up and you held my hair," she added, puzzled.

"Yes," said Tom quietly. He felt a quick stab of hope. He wasn't sure for what.

Her voice was barely audible. "You helped me get into bed." She remembered something else, something involving her buttons. An incomplete memory of him holding both of her hands in his flashed and faded. Recollection was coming too fast; Laura couldn't grasp all of it and alarm set in swiftly. "Wait a minute," she murmured. Laura rounded on him suddenly, the momentary softness replaced by something brittle and accusatory. She was on her feet within seconds. "Was this some kind of publicity stunt?"

"A publicity stunt?" laughed Tom. The small shard of hope cracked down the middle and split in two.

"Oh, please. Like you wouldn't. Get me drunk and make it look like we. Like we – "

"Fraked?"

"Exactly!" She threw up her hands.

"Absolutely not. That would be a cheap exploit. Give me a little credit. At the very least, I'm a lot more creative than that. I certainly have more finesse."

"Oh, yes, Mr. Zarek – let's not forget how clever you are. Lending your support to Gaius Baltar and that pile of mud down there. I'm sure you'll be waiting in the wings to pick up the slack when he fails." She laughed. "Maybe you'll even give him a little push."

"This coming from the woman who plays Adama like he's a fiddle. It's very convenient having an army at your disposal, isn't it? I didn't touch you last night except to help you."

She shook her head at him and pointed a shaky finger. "Well, I'm remembering some things that just don't make any sense."

"All right. Let's hear it. Illuminate me, Madame President," challenged Tom.

"It's obvious. You wanted to ruin my credibility so you slipped something in my drink and made sure the media saw us entering my quarters. And gods only know what else you did."

Of course that's what Laura would think. To her, he was – and always would be – a criminal and an extremist with no principles. And no honor.

"Did you – did we - sleep together?" Her voice was like the sharp crack of a tree branch snapping in a storm.

"No," said Tom angrily as he headed toward the door, oddly hurt by the obvious implication that she found the idea so distasteful. "My balls are still intact. Sleeping with you, they're liable to have frozen off." He grabbed the handle of the door.

"We are not through here, Mr. Zarek," said Laura fiercely as she stomped toward him like a vengeful Fury; anger was quickly dulling the pain in her aching head. She flung his name out like it was a vile thing.

"On the contrary, Madame President, we are quite through." Tom opened up the door with a loud and satisfying crack. Laura was only two steps behind him and she grabbed his arm, pulling him to face her.

"Your balls aren't the only thing that are going to be missing when I'm through with you," she promised heatedly. Her face was so close. He watched the staccato rise and fall of her chest as she breathed. His own breathing matched hers, shallow and quick.

Tom's blue eyes rested on hers for a brief moment, hoping to find something in their grey-green depths other than enmity. But there wasn't. With a resigned shake of his shoulders, he quickly shrugged her off and retreated down the corridor before he did something really stupid.

Like pulling her into his arms and kissing her until they were both delirious from it. Only he was pretty sure that he already was.

Laura spent the rest of her morning nursing her headache and trying to recall the details of the night before. The strange thing was, the more she remembered, the less any of it made any sense. She recalled drinks with Saul and Ellen but she had only consumed one glass of wine. She had excused herself relatively early because she'd felt lightheaded, although she had merely told the Tighs that she was tired. She didn't need anyone on the fleet thinking that she was fragile, certainly not after the lingering rumors of her previous illness.

She remembered bumping into Tom in the hallway and she kept trying to conjure images of him pressing his advantage over her. But she was remembering an entirely different scenario. She had been coming onto him.

Ridiculous. She made it a point never to drink more than two of anything. And even full of drinks, she couldn't imagine any conceivable circumstance in which she'd behave suggestively toward….Tom Zarek. He wasn't bad looking. In fact, she had to admit that he had nice eyes. Sea-blue and flecked with touches of gray. On a good day, he could even be quite charming. Occasionally, she even enjoyed his quick wit and dry sense of humor. But it was the agenda that lurked under the charismatic smiles and easy manner that one had to watch out for. Zarek always had an angle. His own. What was worse, he liked to imagine that it was the public good that was his singular and noble crusade, but in reality Zarek waved his own banner. He was an opportunist, a political maneuverer, and a threat. He was her adversary.

He was dangerous.

Laura would get to the bottom of this. The colonel would be a difficult nut to crack, and with his reputation, he'd probably been drunker than she was. That left Ellen. Laura picked up her phone and dialed Tory.

"Good morning, Madame President."

"Good morning. I need to see Ellen Tigh in my office. As soon as possible."

The two women sat directly across from one another, Laura at her desk and Ellen in the chair opposite her. A shower and some clean clothes had done a lot for Laura's outlook. Her headache was gone and she was eager to clear up the misty events of the night before. She clasped a sharpened pencil loosely between the fingers of both hands. She felt much calmer than she had earlier.

Ellen, on the other hand, was livid. That rat Zarek had obviously spilled the beans about the CK, thereby prompting this little meeting. Well, if she was going down, Ellen would take someone with her.

"It really was an accident, Laura," she blurted impulsively. "You know how stressful marriage can be. Well, you don't know personally. Or have you been married?"

Laura quickly dismissed the question. "I've never been married." She narrowed her eyes. "But what, exactly, was an accident?"

"Oh, you mean Mr. Zarek didn't tell you?"

Laura dropped the pencil down on her desk and scrutinized Ellen.

Frak. "About the aphrodisiac that I slipped into your drink by mistake. I swear it was meant for Saul. I mixed up the glasses. As soon as I realized it, I went after you but Tom was in your room with you and you seemed fine. You were sleeping so –"

"So you left me alone with Tom Zarek with some drug pumping through my veins?"

"Oh, it's really harmless. It ramps up libido and lowers inhibitions. It enhances the sensations when – "

"Ellen!"

"You seemed perfectly safe. Did something happen?" If that idiot Zarek had copped a presidential feel, she was really going to be in trouble.

"Nothing happened. Absolutely nothing. I woke up in my clothes with Zarek sitting in a chair across from me and very fuzzy memories." Her voice was clipped. "I take it you didn't intend on telling me."

"Oh well…I figured Zarek would explain things. He seemed….very devoted. Not in an inappropriate way. If you want my opinion – "

"Not particularly."

Ellen prattled on obliviously. "He has a crush on you."

A crush? Like in grade school? Tom Zarek. Notorious terrorist and political insurgent?

Laura rolled the pencil until it was in front of Ellen and grabbed a piece of paper from her drawer. "I want the name of the drug and the name of your supplier."

"Are you going to press charges?"

Laura paused as if she were seriously considering it. It was a long pause. "No. But I'm making sure that this drug is out of circulation. I don't want any more mistakes."

Ellen scribbled hastily on the paper. "I'm so, so sorry –"

Laura cut her off. "And you are never, ever to mention this again. To anyone."

"Of course not."

Laura nodded toward the exit. "You can go. Thank you."

Ellen rose and began to make her way out. She stopped and turned before leaving. "You know, Laura, it is the end of the world. Might as well make the most of it. I mean – I know you're the president but you're also a woman." Ellen gave her a suggestive smile. "I know I sure as hell would."

A week later Laura was hastily clearing her things out of her office. It was finished. Baltar had won the election. Their course was set for New Caprica and she was simply Laura Roslin again. It had been such a busy and stressful week that she had given very little further thought to the Zarek problem.

But the problem had reasserted itself - literally. As Laura was clearing out the drawer of a file cabinet, he was making a beeline for her desk, with Tory close on his heels.

"You don't have an appointment," her aide was saying.

"It's fine, Tory. I find my schedule suddenly very clear – as recent events would have it." Laura shooed the brunette away with a look. "I'll take care of Mr. Zarek." Tom had a feeling that Laura's version of taking care of him meant tossing him out the nearest airlock - and he said so.

"You gonna airlock me?"

"Not today but let's not rule it out. Baltar won. It's over. If you've come to gloat, let's hurry up and hear it so that I can finish clearing out my office."

"I haven't come to gloat, Laura. I have a couple of forms that needed to be signed –"

"You could have just left those with Tory," she said coldly. "If that's all –"

"It's not all. I just wanted to set the record straight about the night that you woke up with me in your quarters. Nothing happened between us. I put you to bed. That was all."

"I know. I remember. Events are still a little fuzzy but I remember most of them. I even had a little chat with Ellen Tigh about her little error with the CK. While I stand behind everything I said that morning to you about your politics, I was incorrect in believing that you were executing a publicity stunt, or that you had made inappropriate gestures toward me."

"That's a left-handed apology," scoffed Tom.

"Actually, that wasn't an apology at all, Mr. Zarek. Merely an explanation."

"Well, the least you could do is apologize for grabbing my ass. Aphrodisiac or no, if the shoe were on the other foot – I'd never hear the end of it."

"I didn't – "

Tom grinned like the cat who had swallowed the canary. "You definitely did."

"I'm so glad you're so very amused. Out. Now." Laura tossed her head dismissively toward the exit and began gathering up a stack of papers.

Tom placed both of his hands on hers. "Have dinner with me."

The fluttering noise of the papers in her hands ceased as Laura froze. She looked at him. "What?"

"Dinner," Tom smiled. "You and me. We'll eat food. You'll probably glare at me, much like you're doing this very second." He paused. "I like the way you glare at me, Madame President."

Laura flinched and shook him off. "Let me think about it." She paused pointedly. "No."

If her rejection phased him, he didn't show it. He merely shrugged at her and regarded her warmly with a winning smile.

"I'm going to ask you again," he promised, before he turned around.

"Stalker," she tossed back at him before he was completely out of earshot.

Tom smiled to himself.

And, after he was completely gone, Laura's rebel lips formed into their own unwilling smile.