Again, sorry the update took so long. Between the holidays and ffnet not letting me upload it was far too long. I was about to jump out the airlock :o) This is a pretty long chapter to make up for it! Thanks for reading and all the fabulous reviews!!!
Disclaimer: I own nothing, all belongs to Ron Moore and Sci-fi ect.
In all her years spent greeting new classrooms full of students, giving press conferences as the Secretary of Education and later the President, planning the escape from the ice capped poles of New Caprica, Laura Roslin had never experienced the amount of overwhelming apprehension and anxiety she was now. With a violent jerk she smacked the comb down on the table beside the mirror. No matter what she wore, how she fixed her hair, how she stood in front of the mirror, she could not hide the terror and hope plainly displayed in her eyes.
With a loud exhale, Roslin thanked the Gods Bill Adama was still mad at her. She hadn't seen him the past few days and if she had she knew beyond a doubt he would have picked up on her behavior. He always had an uncanny, silent way of sensing when something was bothering her. The unlikely bond they had formed unnerved Roslin at times because he seemed to know her mind better than she did.
Roslin shook her head in irritation and gave up the attempt at making herself presentable. She left her private quarters and entered the flight attendant's kitchen where a make shift dinning room had been set up. The room was used for occasions when it was necessary for the President to entertain important guest at a formal dinner.
Somewhere in the back of her mind Roslin wondered if Chief Tyrol would have ever been among such guests had certain facts not been revealed to her.
"What am I doing?" Roslin asked herself out loud in the silence of the makeshift dinning room.
This was insanity. Maybe her critics had been right. Maybe she really had lost her mind. What was she expecting would happen tonight? Have a nice cozy family meal and for desert inform her guest that she was his biological mother? Of course not. Roslin had already decided not to tell him, ever. She would deal with Dr. Cottle later. Telling Tyrol while she was president would be dangerous for both of them, and she would be president for at least another term. She didn't dare think beyond that.
Despite her reservations she had to know what her son was like. Her maternal instincts which had always been very alert and forceful, would not allow otherwise.
The dinning table consisted of four chairs, but only three place settings had been laid out. There was no chance Adama would attend the briefing, Roslin knew him too well to doubt that. He was still too angry with her to show his face.
"Right this way," Roslin heard Tory's voice just above the sound of approaching footsteps.
Roslin took a moment to breath before turning to face the doorway. Her heart flew to her throat the minute she saw Cally's mop of red hair appear. She was able to calm herself at the sight of the look of pure, classic fear on Cally's face. Tyrol stepped into the room behind her followed by Tory.
"Chief Tyrol, Mrs. Tyrol," Roslin said, shaking hands with each in turn.
Although, Cally's hand was shaking rather well on its own and Tyrol's did not fair much better. Am I really that frightening? Roslin wondered and unconsciously went into teacher mode.
"I am pleased to see you. You both look lovely," Roslin cooed.
Tyrol and Cally, from what Roslin could tell, were probably wearing the nicest remaining set of clothes they owned. Cally's hair was pulled back out of her eyes and her simple dress made her nearly unrecognizable. Tyrol appeared quite distinguished in a simple black dress shirt and slacks.
"Dinner will be out in a few minutes. Good night Madame President," Tory said and with a quick bob of her head toward the Tyrols disappeared for the evening.
"You too," Cally said abruptly, her voice faltering badly. "I mean, look, nice, too, you do…that's what I mean."
The girl quickly cast her eyes toward the ground and Roslin could see her grip tighten on her husband's arm.
Roslin bit the inside of her lip to keep from letting a chuckle at Cally's expense escape.
"Thanks for inviting us," Tyrol added.
By the sound of his voice Roslin was not sure whether he meant it. Suddenly her own anxiety melted away in the wake of her guests fear and…well, flat out horror.
"I'm sorry you had to miss the play tonight. Adama told me earlier he was pleased so many officers decided to attend," Roslin said trying to break the ice. Tyrol nervously stepped a little farther into the room.
"Oh, that's already…I mean, alright. It's not often we get invited to dinner with the…"
He trailed off as if his voice or thought just melted away. Roslin found that hard to believe since there was so much thick ice hanging in the air.
"Have a seat," Roslin answered waving her hand toward their seats, "Tory had the Colonial One chefs fix us something special, though I can't guarantee it will be any better than the rations on Galactica."
Tyrol and Cally exchanged delighted looks and their tense stances loosened with Roslin's attempt at humor. Tyrol held the chair out for his wife. Watching the gentlemanly behavior Roslin fought the urge to swell with motherly pride and remark 'that's my son.' The thought jolted her heart back to her throat. Roslin pulled out the chair on the opposite side of her guests.
"Wait, I'll get it, Madame President," Tyrol practically yelled.
Once Cally was seated he rounded the table and helped seat Roslin. He was still very much on edge which is why Roslin would have let the breach in manners slide. Roslin had not planned on such a formal dinner but the tension in the air seemed to demand it. She decided to address the matter point blank.
"Thank you chief, but please," she said as he took his seat, "relax. I didn't mean for this dinner to cause as much alarm as a fleet of raiders."
"You are the President," Tyrol said, as if presenting Roslin with information she didn't know.
"Yes, but as you might have heard, I am human too," she replied with a soft smile.
Tyrol smiled back nervously but Cally just stared with mouth gaping open like she didn't believe.
"Why invite us to dinner with you," the girl asked.
Cally kept her mouth open so Roslin did not immediately reply unsure if Cally had more to say. Finally, Cally finally found the nerve to continue.
"I mean, aren't you busy?"
"Being human, I do need nutritional sustenance," Roslin quipped.
She would succeed in getting them to relax or else crack a hundred lame jokes in the attempt. As she expected the two again only smiled nervously. With a stifled sigh Roslin had a feeling this dinner would be long and painful.
Then something happened she hadn't expected. Her eyes casually drifted toward the door, trying to spare their owner the pitiful sight of the two nervous guests before them. A powerful dark figure looming in the door frame made Roslin start in surprise. Adama.
"I didn't know this briefing was going to be so cozy. I would have changed my outfit," Adama deadpanned.
The mere fact he referred to his uniform as an 'outfit' indicated to Roslin two very important facts. One, he was in a god mood, enough so to joke which meant he had come earlier than anticipated for reconciliation and two; she now had a date for dinner…with William Adama no less. She couldn't stop a smile from spreading across her lips. Adama smiled back. He really was in a good mood. She wondered what had changed his mood so quickly. If she hadn't known better she would have guessed it was a woman. Her temper suddenly and quite unexpectedly flared. Down girl, Roslin told herself as she overcame her surprise enough to speak.
"I didn't know you were coming," she said, a little more out of breath than she would have liked to sound.
"I was scheduled wasn't I," Adama asked, his expression changing to unreadable stone.
Roslin glanced awkwardly at her two guests, who now appeared more amused at the miscommunication between Admiral and President than terrified at the dinner experience.
"Yes, but I know you've had a heavy work load lately," Roslin replied, wondering if Adama would go along with the pretense.
"I managed to make time," he said, still in the same detached voice.
Roslin could only watch him closely, trying to find a crack in the wall of stone that had just been put up against her. Maybe he hadn't come to reconcile.
"Admiral," Tyrol said and stood at attention. Cally was a bit slower in her response time but did the same.
"At ease officers," Adama said.
"Would you care to join us, Bill?" Roslin asked, figuring that doing away with titles would make everyone feel a little easier.
"I don't want to intrude, Laura," he answered, glancing at the chair next to her.
"Nonsense, there is plenty to go around," Roslin told him. It was a lie, however, and everyone at the table knew it. There were never enough rations to go around.
"Alright," Adama agreed and to her surprise quickly took the empty chair next to her.
Tyrol and Cally returned to their seats and after only a brief moment Adama began drawing both of them out. Roslin sat back and observed in amazement how two people so uncomfortable in the presence of the President could be so comfortable in the presence of their Admiral. Adama knew his crew well and easily made small talk with the Chief Specialist and his wife and Roslin reaped all the benefits of seeing what her son was really like.
Tyrol ventured so far as to tell a risqué joke or two and Cally seemed to have no qualms about letting the word 'frak' slip into the conversation.
"I mean, even before he went traitor Baltar was a frakking idiot," Cally said with a mouth half full after consuming the last of the food on her plate.
"We are the frakking idiots for electing him at all," Tyrol added.
He turned to pin his eyes on Roslin, apparently forgetting all his earlier fear of talking to her.
"Cally and I both voted for you, and I think anyone with half a brain did too," Tyrol said.
"Well, I take comfort in knowing that a little less than half the fleet has more than half a brain," Roslin joked.
The table was silent for a moment before Tyrol and Cally both burst into laughter. Roslin turned to see Adama smiling brightly at her. She tried to ignore the chill running through her at the sight of such a smile.
"I think you're being generous to the fleet," Adama added and the laughing continued.
Adama placed his fork on the edge of the table after finishing his meal, but it slipped and dropped on the floor.
Roslin barely took the time to notice he pushed his chair back to reach down and pick up the fallen utensil as she was paying attention to Cally.
"I agree, you don't know how hard it was to find a babysitter I trust for tonight. Half the people I know are at the play," the girl said.
"You should have told me," Roslin began, "I'm sure Tory—"
Under normal circumstances such a falter in speech patterns would have gone unnoticed but Roslin was sure Adama knew exactly why she faltered. As he reached to pick up the fork the back of his hand ever so lightly brush against the side of her leg. The feeling was so fleeting it was hardly enough contact to count as a touch.
"Troy…would be happy to help out," Roslin finished.
Adama returned the fork to its place on the table. Instead of facing him to gage his reaction Roslin reached for her water glass and pretended she felt nothing. What a lie that was.
"Thanks," Cally said in response.
"Sorry," Roslin heard Adama mutter only loud enough for her to hear.
His words annoyed Roslin. It was ridiculous for him to have to apologize for something to insignificant. She really needed to get herself under control. He barely even touched her leg at all. He probably didn't even know it he did. Well, obviously he did know or he wouldn't have apologized, Laura argued with herself. Certainly he didn't do it on purpose. Or did he? No, that's not like him… Her body was suddenly aware of how close his was. She kept her eyes straight ahead.
"We really should be getting back," Cally said to Tyrol as she slipped her hand into his.
"Thank you for dinner Madame President, Admiral," Tryol said standing, "can we help you clean up?"
Adama stood.
"Thank you chief, no. Laura and I have some things to discuss," Adama said.
Roslin lifted her eyebrows at that. She wasn't sure this late at night she was up for any more discussion of cylon babies or fleet issues. Over dinner there had been success in working out a plan for transferring and trading supplies between Galactica and the civilian fleet, which had been Tyrol's major concern.
"Well, good night, then," Tyrol said nodding to both the Admiral and Roslin and swinging an arm around his wife.
"Thanks again," Cally said and turning to Roslin added, "And any time you want to see that I am right and our son is the cutest baby in the fleet you can just stop by."
Roslin was so completely blown away by how the girl transformed over the course of dinner she couldn't do much more than laugh and nod. As if the President could just drop by and make unexpected house calls on a regular basis. Impossible even if it was to see her…Roslin swallowed hard…grandson.
"Tell me," Adama said, snapping Roslin out of her thoughts.
Tyrol and Cally were gone now, but Roslin wasn't sure how much time had passed.
"Tell you?" she replied, absently staring out the doorway the couple exited through.
"What is really going on here?" Adama pressed her for answers.
Roslin drew her gaze up and looked into his old familiar eyes. She sighed heavily.
"Bill," she began, her voice defeated, "I am so tired of lies."
"Lies," Adama repeated. "I'm tired of running."
Roslin smiled and let her eyes fall away.
"From the cylons," she added for him.
He sat across from her and began piling the plates on the other end of the table.
"No."
He answered as he worked. Roslin watched him openly, trying to guess if he would elaborate or if he would leave it at that. Once the majority of plates had been moved aside Adama turned to face her. He looked different. She wasn't sure why but something about his expression had changed. Never before had she seen his face so gentle except maybe when she had been on her death bed.
"I think you should tell me," he said, staring hard at her.
Those blue eyes cut right through her soul. She hesitated.
"Who else can you tell, Laura?" he asked a bit forcefully.
Whenever he used her name in that way, his way of saying it, she was helpless to refuse. She regarded him carefully, letting her eyes tell him that what she was about to say was more than just difficult or confidential. It was a part of her heart and she didn't give it away without scruple.
"I was the youngest of three sisters. My parents were," Laura smiled sadly, "very wealthy. I don't mind saying I was a spoiled brat."
Adama laughed and Roslin put her hands on the table in front of her.
"You would have hated me then almost as much as you did when we first met," Roslin explained.
"I didn't hate you," he defended.
Roslin lowered her chin and eyed him knowingly.
"Passionately dislike, maybe," he joked.
Roslin smiled and turned her head to one side. After a chuckle she continued.
"I was their star child. My life was one nicely defined road stretching straight out in front of me. Of course, I rebelled. Such foolish behavior when I look back on it now," Roslin halted at this point to study Adama's reaction and to question herself.
Why was she telling him all of this? He had no reason to care or stake in it. He was so easy to talk to and he was right, she needed someone to tell. He knew Tyrol. If Roslin couldn't tell Tyrol at least she could tell his superior officer.
His eyes gently encouraged her to continue.
"I wanted to get back at my parents, and I did. I got pregnant when I was sixteen. In those days, under Caprician law, a minor's rights were forfeit to the parents or legal guardian. There was no way, none, my parents would have ruined my career chances with the responsibility of raising a child. The father wanted nothing to do with the baby so he was given for adoption," Roslin explained.
She avoided looking at Adama. This was the hardest part of the narrative and she wanted to get through it as quickly and with as little emotion as possible.
"I wasn't ready for parenthood. I was far too young. But, of course, I do have regrets. It seems my body has always fought me. The doctors said I couldn't have anymore children. I guess that influenced my decision to become a teacher…hardly a profession my parents approved of."
Roslin stopped speaking unable to fight the need to see Adama's face. She brought her eyes to focus in on him and found that stone wall of unreadable expression. His eyes were soft but because of the stone she saw she knew he was having some trouble digesting the information.
"You said Adar was safe," Adama said to Roslin's surprise.
She was sure he would remain silent until she had told him everything.
"Safe?" Roslin questioned, narrowing her eyes and trying to remember.
"When you spoke with Lee and I about Adar, you said he was safe," Adama explained.
Roslin nodded in comprehension. Her chest tightened and she found it difficult to get enough air. This conversation was personal enough without Adama brining up painful memories and feelings about Adar. The sharp gaze he kept pinned on her seemed to say he was not letting her move on until he got an answer. Why did he always insist on pressing her for answers about Adar? Wasn't she bearing her soul enough with everything else she had told him?
She put up her own wall.
"If I couldn't have children I really didn't see a point in getting married to anyone," Roslin informed him her tone laced with ice.
Adama continued to watch her but she was too upset by the conversation now to divulge the rest of the story. Whatever this hang up Adama had with Adar, it was really beginning to get on her nerves.
"How did you find out?" Adama questioned.
"What?" Roslin snapped a little more harshly than she meant to.
"Tyrol is your son. How did you find out?" Adama repeated.
Damn that stone wall look of his.
"Dr. Cottle…" Roslin forced the words out through her anger, "He was running some blood tests…and stumbled across it."
Adama shook his head. He didn't seemed shocked, surprised, alarmed, ashamed, nothing! Roslin could read absolutely nothing in his expression. Maybe it was that he just didn't care. If that was the case, fine, frak him.
"I'm tired Bill," Roslin said, rising to her feet.
Adama remained sitting.
"We're not done here," he said, his eyes willing her to sit back down.
"Yes, I think we are," she replied and began to walk toward the door.
He got up and quickly moved in front of her blocking her exit.
"Really, this is childish," she scolded.
"You have a son," Adama said his voice barely above a whisper, "Maybe you don't realize what that means. It will be your greatest joy, even if it hurts."
The undeniable compassion in his voice caused a little stinging in her eyes. She promised herself she would not lose control and in order to keep that fizzing bottle inside from bursting she had to turn away from him. Adama did not move from where he was standing.
"Are you going to tell him?" he asked softly.
"No," Roslin answered simply.
She turned back to face Adama once she felt her emotion where sufficiently under control.
"I can't."
"Yes, you can," Adama began, "It's easy. I'll show you."
He now had Roslin's full attention. She watched him with open curiosity. He really didn't do much but stand there and fidget a little more with one of the buttons on his uniform. Adama looked upward smiled and then took a step closer to her.
"You say something like this," he started, "I don't believe in the Gods, but I do believe in you. Your voice is my hymn. Your happiness is what I pray for everyday. Your touch is my heaven. I'm not tired of running from the cylons because you are by my side to lift me up, to center me, to listen. I only get tired of running from what I can't say, what I can't do."
Adama spoke slowly and evenly. Roslin gave up on trying to stop the two or three tears that made their way down her face. She was actually quite proud of herself for not bursting out into a fit like some drunken Ellen Tigh psycho woman.
"Well, of course, I wouldn't say exactly that to chief Tyrol, but, you get the general idea," Adama added with a hint of a smile playing at his lips.
President Laura Roslin fought with all she had in her not to kiss Admiral William Adama. She lost, miserably. Much to her luck, or bad luck, Admiral William Adama saw the assault coming and stop it before it happened.
"You would regret it, Laura," he said softly, his lips close to her own, his hands on her arms.
"I'm tired of lies," she revealed the raw emotion in her voice.
Adama didn't move and she was glad. The warmth of his hands on her arms seemed to make every wrong thing in the world right.
"Tried of fighting," she told him, unable to look into his eyes.
He sighed heavily and she was close enough to feel the movement of his chest.
"We couldn't survive it. The fleet wouldn't," Adama said. "We both know it. That's why we continue to fight."
"Kara told me that Adama men frak up your life."
Roslin smiled as she spoke regaining her dignity and she pulled on hand away from him to wipe the tears away. Adama smiled back lifted his hand to brush away the last tear on her cheek. She held his wrist as he did so.
"I touched your leg on purpose," Adama admitted with a mischievous smile.
Roslin smiled even wider and then playfully swatted him on the shoulder.
Out of nowhere she felt his lips make contact with hers. The kiss he had given her before dying was nothing like this one. This kiss could only mean one thing. Warning bells rang loudly in her mind above the beating of her heart.
Can't.
Roslin responded to his kiss as if the cork on that fizzing bottle inside had popped.
Do.
His hands moved to encircle her waist and pull her closer.
This.
"I am sorry to interrupt," Tory said from the doorway and Roslin felt Adama pull away from her faster than she really knew what was happening.
In fact, he was on the other side of the room before the hands she had around his neck could drop to her side.
When Roslin looked at Tory she felt no great surprise is seeing the girl's unrelenting professional mask still firmly in place.
"I take it this is a recent development," Tory stated.
Roslin exchanged a shy glance with Adama. Of course, the one and only time they let themselves have a fleeting moment of weakness and they have to get caught.
"Very," Adama replied.
Tory looked suspiciously between the two of them.
"So, I am going to have to start arranging clandestine midnight meetings for the two of you," Tory questioned with a much amused smirk.
Roslin tilted her head to one side as she watched Tory. If she didn't know better, Roslin might have suspected Tory was attempting humor.
"Of course not," Roslin answered, suddenly depressed and more than a little aggravated. "What you saw was…"
"…nothing," Adama finished.
Tory took a few steps into the room and placed her hands on her hips.
"Really? The two of you making out didn't look like nothing to me," Tory snipped, "And I'm sure it wouldn't look like nothing to the press."
Roslin's shoulders tensed at Tory's clipped tone. She didn't like being reprimanded like a naughty child by her assistant.
"I'm not trying to force the issue. I realize it's none of my business, but," Tory began stalking around the room as if she were giving a lecture in a university, "As your public relations specialist I need to know if the relationship between the President and Admiral has taken an unexpected, though not surprising, turn. We have to take measures to make sure this doesn't get out to the fleet or the consequen—"
"Yes. Tory." Roslin said with her hand raised, "We understand. Thank you. There is nothing between the Admiral and I for the same reasons you were about to name. Now, is there something you wanted?"
Tory's eyes were wide in alarm, and Roslin was pleased to see she had caused the girl to back off a little by her sharp reply.
"There is an urgent call for the Admiral," Tory informed them.
Roslin watched Adama regard Tory for a moment before turning his attention to her.
"Tell him, Laura," Adama said. Roslin rolled her eyes.
"And risk a repeat of the emotional disaster that just happened?" She challenged.
"You wouldn't regret it. With us it's different," Adama said and brushed past her on the way to the door.
Once he left Tory turned to Roslin with a lifted eyebrow. Apparently the assistant knew better than to question her boss again.
"I thought you left a long time ago," Roslin snapped.
"Maybe it's a good thing I didn't," her assistant responded. "I decided to stay and catch up on some work."
Roslin nodded slowly calling on her Presidential intimidation look of steel.
"I trust you will forget what you've just seen," she warned.
"I'm not the one who will have trouble forgetting it," Tory replied, a little more boldly than Roslin anticipated.
With a quick movement Roslin folded her arms in front of her and rooted herself to the ground. She forced herself to relax a bit by looking out the window. Had she immediately reacted, the chair at the table may have been hurled at Tory's head.
"Lucky for you, you're not here to be my conscience or my friend. You need'nt trouble yourself over it," Roslin spoke so coldly she almost expected to see her breath in the air.
From the downward turn of Tory's lips, Roslin knew the girl recognized the words she had once said when Roslin first hired her.
"It just…sad," Tory blurted, losing the professional edge that usually protected her voice from the invasion of emotions, "I respect both of you. I like both of you."
Roslin knew she hadn't meant to reveal so much emotion because of the panicked look on Tory's normally serene features. Roslin forced a smile but she knew it came off frosty and insincere. She wished Billy were alive.
"It's life," she said briskly and left the room.