"Are you alright, Madam President?"
Laura Roslin raised her eyebrows as she ducked into the tent, greeted by her aide's tentative words. She'd just made a comfortable truce with an old man and had raced through the rain to the tarp on the other side of the clearing hoping to make one with a much younger one.
"We should have set a limit on how many times you can ask me that per day a long time ago." Her eyes sparkled as Billy tried to sputter a response but she relented, voice full of caring. "I'm fine, Billy. Just fine."
He eyed his boss. Former boss. Well, he had no idea what his relationship to her was right now but she looked like hell. Wet, muddy jeans and a borrowed cotton top had replaced the power suit and her auburn hair was damp against her head from the rain. But, he noted, she stood firmly and her eyes were clear and bright. Not drugged, he also noted, just relaxed. He wondered for a moment if this sudden burst of energy had anything to do with the conference he'd just witnessed her having with the Commander, sitting just close enough to spark questions about their professional relationship.
He decided he might as well start what was sure to be an awkward conversation. "Madam President, I want to explain why I…" He paused, trying to figure out how to describe what he'd done. Left you? Betrayed you? Disavowed your whole faith and sense of self? "Well, I'm sorry for…" He trailed off again, looking lost and a little bit afraid.
The president used the pause to stop him, gently touching his forearm and motioning for him to sit down next to her on the tarp covering the ground. She settled herself with her feet tucked askance under her legs and settled her gaze on Billy as he tried to find space for his long limbs.
"Billy, you don't owe me any explanation. And you certainly don't owe me any apologies. I asked far too much of you and I had no right to do that."
Rather than taking comfort in the words, the president's statement brought forth another pang of guilt. He hadn't lived up to her expectations and her easy acceptance of that fact only served to convince him that she was planning to push him away for good.
"Madam President, I neglected my duties by not coming with you."
She studied him for a moment before responding with a sad sigh. "Billy, you took a 9 to 5 job with a lowly education secretary. A job in which you expected to be able to go home at night, have a life. You didn't sign up to be an aide to the president or to take care of someone while they die. You're too young to have to deal with that."
Billy was quiet for a moment before responding, almost inaudibly. "You weren't much older when you had to take care of your mom."
Laura looked up from the pattern she'd been studying on her pants, shocked at her aide's sudden audacity. And emotional perceptiveness. She'd been hoping to reassure him, lay out limits for his duties that didn't involve picking her up off the floor, and move on. While trudging through the rain, she'd come to terms with dealing with her death alone if it meant sparing this boy the pain she knew so well. Her response came out more sharply than she intended.
"Right. And you're not going to do that for me. If you still want a job, you have one. But that job is to help schedule meetings, take down notes, and deal with the Quorum. You're not going to get out of that task. But I'm getting you quarters in the cargo hold and you will go home at a reasonable time, date Dee, and make a life for yourself. No more sleeping outside of my door and going to doctor's appointments with me. My cancer is no longer your concern."
Her words hit Billy like a ton of bricks. But rather than making him sad, they made him angry.
"With all due respect, Madam President, your new obsession with being a martyr is ridiculous. Dying Leader. Do you really think that the more you suffer the better off the people are? I never took you to be that stupid or that vain."
She shot him a harsh look over the rims of her glasses. "Are you quite done, Billy?"
"No. I'm not. I don't mind helping you. Yes, it's hard and yes, it's scary and yes, it hurts a little more every day. You know why? Because I don't want you to die. But you've decided to cope with being sick by reveling in your death and making it your sole purpose for being. You're so much more than that. Or you used to be. Spending your last days all drugged up and developing a following of worshipers because you can't admit that you're scared isn't befitting of someone like you."
Laura seemed visibly taken aback. She stood quickly and turned her back on the younger man, stepping to the far edge of the tent. She gazed out into the rain.
It seemed like hours before she spoke again. "Have you ever stopped to wonder if I'm right? If these visions are the only way for us to find Earth and that for Gods know what reason this is the role I am meant to play? Or are you so selfish that you want me to give up trying to save these people just to add a few more days to my life? I'm going to die, Billy, and I'm going to leave you and you are going to have to deal with it." She whirled around to face her sparring partner, who was still sitting, a bit stunned at his earlier outburst, on the other side of the tent.
He stood slowly and instead of moving toward the president, he moved to the opposite side of the tent. It was his turn to take solace in the rain.
"I know that. And yes, you might be right about Earth." He paused and his voice softened. "I think that's why I didn't come here the first time. Because when you gave that speech in the brig, I actually started to believe that you might be this Pythia prophet. And when I did, I knew you'd given up all hope of living. You're right. I am selfish. I don't want you to die. But mostly, I don't want you to die as some mythical martyr. I want you...no, I need you to remember that you are Laura Roslin first. That your death would mean something to people even if you aren't the Dying Leader." His last sentence was almost inaudible. "It damn well means something to me."
He felt a hand on his shoulder and turned around to face the president, whose eyes were brimming with tears. Great, he thought, now I've made her cry. He started to apologize. "Oh Gods, Madam President, that was out of line."
She looked up at him. "It's ok, Billy. It's ok. Really, that was the most touching telling off I've ever received." She laughed, which made him smile. "What can I do, Billy? I've pulled you in this far and I want to know what I can do to make this easier for you."
He sighed. "Well, to be honest, you can stop doing that. Stop putting everyone else before yourself all the time. Nothing in those scrolls said the prophet has to die alone. Don't push me away. I saw you with the Commander just now. Don't push him away either. Let us help you. If you're really committed to this, don't condemn everyone who cares about you to watching your martyrdom from the outside."
The president was smiling now and he couldn't for the life of him figure out why.
"Thank you, Billy. I'm proud of you."
He shook his head. This conversation had taken a strange turn. "For which part, Madam President? Abandoning you or yelling at you?"
Her laugh was full this time and extended all the way to her eyes. "For both, actually. I'm proud of you for obeying your conscience and staying behind. And I'm proud of you for telling me something you knew I didn't really want to hear. The last thing I need is more unquestioning, adoring followers. Truly. It's been a long time since anyone has spoken to me like that. Being president seems to have that effect."
"Well, your recent propensity for the airlock might have something to do with that," he joked, uncomfortable with the compliment he didn't feel like he deserved.
She chuckled. "Oh, Gods. Starbuck says they're calling me Madam Airlock now. You throw one little Cylon into space and you get a reputation." She paused. "Alright, how about this? I will try to hang on as long as I can and I will try to be better about asking for help. I'm old and I've been on my own for a long time so...bear with me while I try to figure out how not to be an insufferable pain in the ass."
He started to object to her interpretation of his tirade but she stopped him by putting her hand up and continuing. "Your end of this deal is to keep telling me the hard truths and challenging me when you think I'm wrong. Someone keeping their head from getting too big is exactly what every prophet needs."
Billy smiled and tried to keep from rolling his eyes. "I think I can do that, Madam President."
"Alright. And one more thing. I'm grateful for everything you've done for me. You were right. I will never forget what it was like to watch my mother die. It's the most painful thing I've ever experienced and I don't want my death to haunt you for the rest of your life. You have to tell me when it gets to be too much. You don't have to go through this alone either." She glanced over at Commander Adama who was sitting across the clearing, engaged in animated conversation with Lee and Starbuck. "I'm starting to think there just might be a few more people who'd be willing to help me too."
He smiled and once he'd nodded his acceptance of the truce, she pulled him into a hug. When she stepped back, the softer side was gone and she was in full presidential mode.
She patted him on the shoulder and turned to sit down. "Alright, good boy. Now go away. I'm going to lie down for a bit."
As she settled back against one of the pilot's discarded packs and closed her eyes, Billy studied her. She looked tired and he felt guilty for exhausting her with the conversation.
"Ok. Are you alright, Madam President?"
She opened her eyes and looked up at him, an amused smile pulling at her lips. "Yes, Billy. When I wake up, our next negotiation is going to be just how many times you can ask me that damn question per day." With a wave of her hand, she dismissed him and closed her eyes again.
Billy grinned as he turned to go. Well, Mom and Dad, he thought, I yelled at a prophet and she said I was right. What in the worlds would you think about that?