Title: Colonial Day, Rewritten (Lee's POV)
Rating: K
Words: 341
Summary: moderate length, written from lee's point of view. An alternate ending, I suppose to Colonial Day (1.11). This is my first attempt at Fan Fiction, I have previously written Fan Poetry.
A/N: please comment, critique or whatever all is welcomed, it will help me to improve. Thanks to not falling in love and gnomesbeatfaeries for the beta:D
Disclaimer: I own nothing to do with Battlestar Galactica. They belong to other people. No profit gained from this. Thanks!
When he was dancing with her, he felt at ease, like maybe there was still hope left that life would go on, even though the world as they knew it had ended. When the dance was over, he felt awkward and out of place. He fidgeted and stood to one side of the dance floor.
He saw his father dancing with the president and thought that if they had met, under different circumstances, that there might have been something between them. Except, with things as they are, the blossoming spark would be smothered and ignored.
He had been dancing with Kara when 'Mr Vice-President' had cut in. Always the well brought up officer; he had allowed the man to do so. That had been several dances ago, they still hadn't finished. The music paused and he contemplated a role reversal, only to have the sweet sounds start up again. Watching them, and the other couples surrounding them, and him, he felt very alone.
Not waiting for a pause in the music, he weaved through the dancers till he reached her side. Smiling slightly he asked, 'May I cut in?'
'Of course,' there was a slight pause, hardly detectable, 'Captain'
Her slightly confused partner mumbled something, highly intelligent 'Ep . . . . uh . . . um' as he turned away, only to be surrounded by fans and no lack of dance partners.
'Thank you, Lieutenant'
'What took you so long, Apollo? He was driving me crazy.'
Stuttering, slightly with a blush creeping up his neck 'You seemed to be enjoying his company.'
She shook her head slightly, 'You're an idiot, you know that?'
He smiled, 'Yes, sir'. He would have saluted, she knew that, but they were dancing. His arms were needed elsewhere.
The night drew to a close and they escorted the president home, catching the last shuttle to Galactica. The night ended sweetly with 'Goodnight, sweet dreams' among friends. They dreamed, not of a future filled with wonder but of a time when there was a future.
I hope you like, please tell me if you do or even if you hate it.
