Number Thirteen

Chapter Two: The Nature of the Beast

(Don't own anything!)

The cell was gray and dreary and the handcuffs were on too tight but this form of imprisonment was preferable to what her own would do to her if Adama and Roslin decided to kill her. Thirteen looked around the Galactica holding cell with a glint of amusement in her eye – What if they don't kill me? I may have to spend the rest of my life in here! Maybe they'll build me a nice little display case like they did for that Eight. - Thirteen suddenly laughed aloud causing her four guards to jump and point their weapons. She smiled an apology at them but they remained unmoved. Humans fascinated Thirteen and, although she knew she was superior to them, she didn't hate them or want power over them. It would have been much more fascinating to have re-established relations with their colonies and studied them in their natural environment. Even the mighty Admiral Adama was slightly out of his element in this situation. But then, that was fascinating too. Humans – toxic little creatures, from their vices to their torrents of emotion – it was a miracle they'd ever climbed out of their caves. Despite their flaws Thirteen admired their tenacity and ferocious will to live. Most of them strove to be more than what they were and that's made her care about the welfare of this remnant of humanity. Maybe she envied them as well – mostly because she could barely be more than the sum of her parts, they were dynamic and ever-changing. She smiled again at the guard she'd been staring at – he hated her, they all did, but she still cared. The phone on the wall buzzed causing her to glance away and it wasn't long before her captors were parading her through the corridors on a metal leash. She didn't ask where they were taking her, she knew – Adama – she'd wondered how long he'd let her sit in her cell before curiosity got the better of him, two weeks, not bad.

Admiral Adama was tense, as if he didn't have enough to worry about another Cylon gets dropped in his lap. There was something strange about this one though. She'd been sitting in a holding cell for two weeks and hadn't spoken once – to plead for her life or otherwise – the guards said it felt like she was studying them. A metallic knock sounded on his hatch.

"Come."

He answered. Two guards stepped in followed by Thirteen and two more guards. They unhooked the poles from her collar and left at his nod. Thirteen was unlike Sharon in every way. She walked and stood proudly and eyed her surroundings curiously. There was an unusual confidence about her that had long left Sharon. These things, however, only served to make him more suspicious – she was still a Cylon after all. She didn't wait for a cue from him before taking a seat on his couch and catching his eyes. The guards were right – she seemed to study him.

"Why did you protect me from Cain?"

She asked silkily, smiling with her eyes.

"What are you talking about?"

Adama asked, acting distracted. Thirteen's smile faded and her eyes became intense and she seemed to look through him. A lesser man would have squirmed under her gaze.

"Don't toy with me Bill – I know you encountered another battlestar, the Pegasus, Helena Cain's ship."

He didn't show his surprise at her knowledge of the Pegasus or the use of his first name, but she must have known because her sugary smile returned as did the glint in her eyes.

"I thought so – was she dead when the ship arrived or did you kill her?"

The steely question caught him off guard.

"That's enough! I'll ask the questions."

He snapped but she laughed softly and sank back onto the couch. He glared at her before walking to his desk and retrieving a folder. He couldn't help but feel that he was somehow selling his soul enlisting the help of this mysterious Cylon. He dropped the folder in front of her and she glanced at it and cocked her head at him.

"Open it."

He ordered. The corners of her mouth flickered as she opened the folder and began to study its contents. It was files of suspected Cylons and Cylon conspirators.

"No"

She stated as she dropped a file on the table to her left.

"Yes"

She dropped another file on her right. She copied her actions through the rest of the folder until it was divided into two stacks, Adama simply watching her as she worked and cast an occasional amused smile. The ease at which she went through the folder troubled him, he hoped that her instinct for self-preservation would compel her to be truthful – but what was the truth to a Cylon?

"Only one of these is a Cylon model you haven't seen – the rest are conspirators which are nearly as bad."

"What can we do to stop them?"

"You can't unless you catch them, in the mean time I'd watch your back they tried to kill you once, they'll do it again – anything to undermine your society."

He clasped his hands hard, they began to tremble as the memory of Sharon shooting him heated his memory. He called for her guards and watched as they restrained her and walked her out of his office. He sank onto his couch before the newly separated folder.

"I will never be able to deal with them like that."

Laura Roslin's voice made him look up. She'd been listening from his living area, they'd decided Thirteen would have responded better to him alone since she'd targeted him in the first place. He looked back down at the piles and sighed.

"Sometimes I can't either."

He felt Laura sit down next to him.

"How many?"

She asked quietly.

"One new Cylon model, six conspirators."

He picked up the folders and handed them to her, hand still trembling. She took the folders with one hand and his unsteady hand in the other.

"Are you ok Bill?"

She asked her concern spread honestly on her face

"I'm fine Laura."

He answered letting some of the gruffness slip out of his voice and hoping it would convince her. He didn't think he'd succeeded but she took the hint and released his hand. She leafed through the folders.

"Can I take these with me?"

She asked

"I think those are your copies anyway."

"Oh, ok – well, if there's nothing else."

An awkwardness had slipped into room somewhere between his show of weakness and her holding his hand. Adama rose.

"I'll see you tomorrow morning Madam President."

She returned his nod before exiting his quarters. They were a good team, they balanced each other even if they didn't always get along. He'd never admit it, but there was a weak part of him that needed her. That part of him made him wonder what he'd do when she was gone. He sank back onto his couch, leaned his head back and drifted to sleep.

Blood, warm and sticky, dripped from his hands. No matter how many times he tried to wipe it off , it remained. He sank to his knees and felt the wet of the ground seep through his uniform. Finally tearing his eyes away from his hands, he looked out onto the barren field before him. It was littered with bodies, some familiar some not. He looked around and realized that the bodies were not just before him, but around him. A mass of blonde hair caught his attention, he got up and walked slowly to it.

"Oh, Kara."

He sobbed as he stared at her lifeless form. He looked away only to find Saul in his line of sight. He jerked away from both and found Laura. They were all there – his family. He sank once more to his knees and wept.

"Why!"

He shouted into his hands. Suddenly his surroundings shifted – he was on Kobol and his hands were around a redhead's throat.

"And you ask why?"

He gasped and jumped away. He was back with the bodies and the redhead stood tall, dressed in white her red hair blazing, an island of color in a sea of gray desolation. Her eyes, two green points, were cruel.

"You could have stopped this – you were given the chance, but you failed – you killed them."

"No"

He objected, found his strength and stood defiantly before her.

"I did everything I could."

"Well – it wasn't good enough was it?"

The wasteland dissappeared and he was in Galactica's CIC, his hand outstretched. The redhead stood before him dressed in a flight suit with her sidearm raised to his chest. Before he could react, she'd shot two rounds. He felt the life leaving him and his impact on the situation table then he was back in the barren field the redhead again standing over him.

"Do you think they'll forgive you?"

"For - what?"

He was choking on his own blood

"For abandoning them and allowing us to massacre them of course?"

She began to laugh ridiculously.