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"No frakking way," Cally said as she hoisted Nicholas Stephen Tyrol over her shoulder. Galen was only listening to his wife with half an ear as he tinkered with the wires of one of the mess hall microwaves that had broken down. He was frantically trying to fix it before his shift which started in ten minutes.
"What?" he asked absently, not taking his eyes off the red and blue wires. He was answered with a newspaper thrown in front of him. Tyrol glanced to the side, observed a bunch of actors holding hands and bowing to an audience, and brought his attention back to what he was doing. The headline registered in his mind a moment later First Play Critical and Popular Success. Cally must have been disappointed about not seeing it with all their friends. He was a little surprised, considering they mutually agreed dinner with Roslin and Adama had been fun after the initial uncomfortableness.
"Don't worry, I promise we'll go," he assured her.
He heard Cally's frustrated sigh at the same time he felt the sprits from it.
"You're damn right we will," she said, and finally gained Tyrol's attention.
He was a little afraid of her violent reply. Cally meant everything to him which was another way of saying he was whipped and proud of it.
"Listen," she said shoving Nicholas into Tyrol's arms.
He had no choice but to abandon the microwave and offer his hands to his infant child. Cally snatched the paper and unfolded the crease in the middle.
"Let's see…blah, blah, blah…the play is a success…free tickets for all of the fleet…" She began mumbling as she scanned the article.
Tyrol exchanged a confused looked with his son. Nicholas answered with a smile which resulted in a drop of baby drool landing on Tyrol's leg.
"…but perhaps the most intriguing and controversial part of the play does not lay in the religious debates or fickleness of human nature. Okay, here it is, are you listening," she asked, looking at Tyrol from beneath her eyebrows.
Tyrol really wasn't paying attention as he was trying to make Nicholas grin by bouncing him gently up and down.
"Yeah sweetie," Tyrol answered and was relieved to see Cally's glare return to the paper.
"The romantic love affair between the two main characters offers some interesting insight into the relationship between our fleet's very own Admiral and President. The question to be asked is how much of the play is fact and how much is fiction. No doubt, at the next press conference President Roslin and Admiral Adama will be closely watched. Our exclusive coverage will continue blah, blah, blah," Cally read.
"It. Does. Not. Say. That."
Tryol jumped to his feet, swinging Nicholas up in his arms. He leaned over Cally's shoulder to read the words for himself.
"Can you believe that?" Cally asked. "I mean, we just had dinner with them last night! They did a good job of covering it up, but looking back now I can see it."
Tyrol took a step back from his wife and lifted his shoulders.
"You don't really believe this, do you?" Tyrol was shocked.
"Well, it is kind of obvious. The play just puts it in the spotlight," Cally replied.
"No way," Tyrol said shifting Nick to one arm and waving his other through the air as if to push the information away from him.
"Why not?" Cally question.
Tyrol moved his bottom lip up and down a few times before he finally formed a response.
"Because, that would be fraternization," he blurted.
Cally's eyes widened. Tyrol cursed himself for bringing up a painful subject but it was the truth. Adama had let Tyrol get away with seeing Sharon-the-evil for a while before he finally put a stop to it. The old man did not allow such behavior without scruple and Tyrol just couldn't believe he would engage in it himself, with the President no less.
Cally pursed her lips together and took a deep breath. She brush her red bangs out of her eyes.
"Didn't you notice how surprised she was to see him," Cally asked after a moment.
"What does that have to do with anything?" Tyrol answered with a question.
"Then she was glad he was there, like they had some kind of lovers quarrel and made up in front of us or maybe after with left," Cally explained and wiggled eyebrows up and down for emphasis.
Tyrol was momentarily speechless by the implication as a vivid image of Adama ripping off Roslin's suit jacket popped into his mind. He was grateful that's as far as the image went.
"That is woman thinking, Cally, and I don't buy it," he replied when he regained his senses. She rolled her eyes.
"You're such a pig," she informed him factually.
"Yes, but I'm the pig you love," he answered and brought her into a one handed embrace. She pecked his lips and he handed the baby to her.
"Why did Roslin invite us to dinner?" Cally asked as Tyrol sat on the cot and began to pull his boots on.
"She told us, to thank the deckhands," he answered. Cally swayed back and forth with the baby.
"I've been thinking—"
"No way," Tyrol teased, and then caught one of Nick's baby blankets before it hit his head.
"Roslin already thanked the deckhands. That's why you said she visited you that day, remember?"
Tyrol nodded and looked up as he thought about what she said.
"Well, then, the briefing," he reasoned.
"She didn't have to do that over dinner," Cally replied.
"Maybe she just likes us," Tyrol said, not sure what his wife was getting at.
"I don't know. I mean, she was as uncomfortable as we where before the old man got there," Cally replied.
"Okay, then you tell me why?" Tyrol finally gave in.
"I don't know, it just seems weird. It was cool, but weird," Cally answered with a shrug. Tyrol smirked and kissed his wife before he left for the day.
When he arrived at on the flight deck he wasn't all that surprised to find it buzzing with rumors about the old man and the President. He was surprised to find how divided everyone was on the relationship or non-relationship the two leaders had. The chief thought for sure most of his employees would take his view of things and ward off the unfounded rumors. A larger number than he expected wondered out loud if the play was onto something, and that number grew throughout the day. Tyrol refused to join their ranks, but his mind was not at peace either. Cally had planted a seed and it grew within Tyrol as the day progressed. Why had Roslin invited them to dinner?
Laura Roslin let the last page of the play fall silently from her fingers. Wow. She leaned back in her chair, pulled off her glasses and let her hands fall to her lap. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Wow.
Not at all what she had expected. By Adama's reaction, he phoned her this morning in a panic, she thought maybe the play would be the work of anarchists' determined to stir up the fleet into rebellion. Some else entirely was written on the closed pages before her. The word struck her. Hopeful. This play was hopeful. There was no way Roslin would hinder the fleet from seeing it. Every single human on board Galactica, and perhaps even that cylon model of Sharon Valerii, could use some hope.
The single most intriguing part of the play wasn't the hot and heavy torrid romance between the two title characters. Any overly romance obsessed woman with a pen could write that. The most terrifying and enlightening part of the play for Roslin was the way Aurora sacrifices herself to save her people. Why was that intriguing? Roslin put her glasses back on and quickly tore open the pages.
She read Aurora's death scene again. Twice more. Three times. A chill ran down her back. Reading the scene was like witnessing her own death. She gasped and threw her glasses on the table. Right or wrong, crazy or sane, religious leader or hoax, Laura Roslin knew in her heart this is how she would die. Death would come too soon and it would be for the people. She knew they would reach Earth and with the same conviction, she realized unexpectedly, she knew she would not live to see it. The realization forced her shoulders down as if it had physical weight.
"Madame Pres—" Tory began to say as she entered the room but Dr. Cottle appeared from behind and nearly pushed her over.
Tory mouth dropped in shock and said 'excuse you' in a haughty voice. The white haired man ignored Tory and marched up to Roslin's desk. He planted his feet and stared her square in the eye.
"You have one day. If you don't do it I will. I still live by the laws of the Colonies, not your law. I don't care if you are the president. I gave you a week and you did nothing.
"I let your cancer slide, I let the cylon baby slide, but, damnit Laura, I will not let this slide. This is my obligation as a doctor. There are few things I still believe in but duty is one of them. The only way to stop me is assassination and I wouldn't put that beneath you as of late. One. Day." He forced the words on her and then turned on his heel and marched out of the room grumbling all the way. When Cottle's back disappeared out the door, Roslin brought her eyes to Tory and saw a concerned look lodged on the girl's face.
Roslin had to come clean. Lies had become her life and she was sick of it. No more lies. No more running.
"Tory, call Chief Tyrol and tell him I must speak with him immediately, today if possible," Roslin said without emotion.
"Then, arrange a meeting with the Admiral—"
"Madame President, the Admiral is on the line. I was coming to tell you before Cottle nearly ran me down. Is everything okay?" Tory asked.
"Why does everyone keep asking me that?" Roslin snapped.
"You've been very irritable lately," Tory observed.
Roslin stopped herself from pointing out it was none of her aid's business.
"I've had a lot to deal with lately," Roslin explained, though she felt she really didn't owe Tory anything.
The girl looked down at the notebook in her hands, where Roslin knew her relatively light schedule lived.
"Personal issues," Roslin added in response to Tory's lifted eyebrow.
Tory took a step toward the desk.
"If you need anything…" Tory began but must have remembered her failure to speak to Roslin on a personal level before.
From the beginning Tory had wanted it strictly professional, and Roslin intended on giving her just that.
"Thank you, Tory, that will be all," she stated coldly and nodded to dismiss the girl.
Tory forced a smiled and Roslin spotted a hint of disappointment on her face. The same look she had the day she informed Roslin of the cylon child's death. Roslin knew she had been hard on Tory lately. She would have to deal with that soon, but not today. She had bigger things to worry about.
She unfolded her glasses and put them on before she answered Adama's call.
"Not more concerns about the play I hope," Roslin teased.
"Have you read it," she heard his gravely voice question.
There was tension in his tone.
"Yes." She answered simply and took of her glasses.
"…and?"
She smiled to herself and decided to put an end to his suffering, though she was having fun listening to him squirm.
"I see no reason why the fleet shouldn't see it. It's a fantastic piece of literature but I don't have to tell you that," she said still smiling.
"Galactica and the papers are full of questions about us this morning," the Admiral explained his voice totally professional.
Roslin leaned back in her chair. This was a conversation Laura and Bill would need to work out, not the President and the Admiral. She would need to talk to him as Laura and soon. Much sooner than she wanted but the play was forcing the issues. The press would want a defined answer to their questions and as of now Roslin the President didn't have an answer because Laura the person needed to talk to Bill.
"Yes, we will need to address that, but not over the phone. In fact, I was just about to have Tory set up--" Roslin started but he interrupted.
He knew she didn't like to be interrupted.
"Sharon Valerii has requested a meeting with the two of us, alone," he informed her. Roslin leaned forward.
"What did you tell her?"
"After what you did to their child I'm not about to let her near you. I don't think she would attack you, but I'm not chancing it," Adama explained.
His masculine protectiveness was sweet but totally uncalled for.
"Did she tell you why she wanted a meeting," Roslin asked.
Adama hesitated.
"No."
The statement was cold, brief, and uninviting. Roslin knew something was going on he wasn't telling her.
"Why not? I thought she trusted you. The two of you seemed to have some kind of connection," Roslin said, trying to keep herself from mocking his relationship with the dangerous cylon.
Silence again before she got an answer.
"Her terms were us together or she wouldn't talk. She said it was too important."
This statement was a bit longer but still as cold.
"I don't know about you, Bill, but I would like to hear what she has to say," Roslin gently prompted.
She could almost hear Adama mulling it over in his mind.
While she waited for an answer Tory entered the office with a note she placed in front of Roslin. Tyrol at 13:00. The three words caused Roslin's heart to start racing. Only two hours until she had to face Tyrol?! Dear Kobol, she thought she would have more time to prepare herself. She nodded and Tory left the room once again.
"…help if something did happen."
Roslin unfortunately cut out on the conversation with Adama and only heard the last few words of what he had said. She decided to take a chance.
"Of course," she replied.
He was silent again and she thought maybe her answer hadn't made since with his earlier words.
"Alright. Meet me in Galactica's brig at 13:00," Adama said.
Roslin pressed her lips together in relief the Admiral hadn't noticed her lapse in concentration.
"I have a prior appointment at 13:00, and I feel it would be better to invite Sharon to Colonial One. She hasn't been in Galactica's brig since the rescue from New Caprica. If she is suddenly thrown back in there because of me, whom she already hates, I don't think it will help my approval rating," Roslin said.
"You drive a hard bargain, Laura," Adama said into the phone, his tone much mellower.
She decided to be a little daring. Getting her own way always made her more playful.
"Yes, but you think it's sexy," she told him.
She heard him grunt and was suddenly very satisfied with her clever flirting. Flirting? Oh boy, Laura and Bill needed to have a conversation soon.
"14:00, Colonial One. I'll bring Sharon and Helo," he began but Roslin cut him off.
"Helo? Why Lt. Agathon?" She asked.
The line was silent for a few minutes.
"Were you paying attention to me earlier?" he asked, and she knew full well he was smirking at her.
"Yes," she lied through her teeth.
"I will bring Helo for your protection. He means a good deal to Sharon. If she does try something he will help me stop her," Adama said and paused for a minute before adding, "All of which I explained to you a moment ago."
"I'm sorry, Bill. I was momentarily distracted," she answered.
"Not your Vice President I hope," Adama said in a tone so causal Roslin nearly missed the implication.
Now he was flirting.
"He doesn't hold a candle to you," she blurted without really thinking.
This time Adama laughed. Roslin decided it was time to end the conversation before she made an even bigger fool of herself or said something she might really regret.
"I'll see you in a few hours," she told him and they made their polite goodbyes.
She inhaled deeply and looked down at the note one her desk. Tyrol at 13:00. Of all the conversations she would ever have, this one would probably the most personally life altering for both parties. How would he react? How would his reaction affect her? She hadn't let herself think about these questions when Dr. Cottle first shared the news. The more she thought about such questions the more difficult the situation became. At least the torture could only last for one hour. She would have to dismiss Tyrol early to prepare for her meeting with Adama and Sharon.
She filled the time before Tyrol's visit with paperwork and phone calls, though her mind was distracted through most of them. 13:00 came much quicker than she had hoped. As if only an instant had passed since Tory brought her the note, Tory appeared again, this time to tell her Tyrol had arrived.
The Chief walked into the room and smiled when he greeted her.
"Madame President," he nodded politely.
"Tory, please see there are no interruptions," Roslin said to her aid.
"No problem," Tory said, smiled at Tyrol and left the two of them alone.
While Tory was in the room Roslin's true fear remained inside her. As soon as she was alone with her son, however, her throat began to tighten and her stomach cramped. She would have to deliver the news as President Roslin, not Laura. It was the only way she would ever get through this. A mask of cool presidential collectedness took over her senses and she felt herself going numb.
"Madame President?" Tyrol asked, giving her a bemused stare.
His fingers twitched nervously at his sides.
"Please, have a seat chief," Roslin offered and gestured with her hand to the chair in front of her desk.
Her voice was strong, her body was relaxed. Tyrol pulled the chair out a little and plopped down casually. Roslin studied him openly trying to gauge the best approach.
"Is everything alright," he asked.
Roslin took off her glasses and held them between her entwined hands.
"How is your son?" Roslin questioned, smiling at Tyrol and gaining his.
"Just fine," Tyrol said, "You know, he drooled on me this morning but I guess that is to be expected."
Roslin managed a laugh which Tyrol nervously joined in. Roslin was about to say 'I'd like to see him sometime' but her presidential side would not allow her to utter the words. They were too close to her. She couldn't say them and at the same time maintain her nerve to tell him the truth.
"And Cally?" Roslin continued.
"She's fine too. You know, you did just see us last night. We're all fine since then," Tyrol replied a little shortly.
Roslin must have looked surprised by his tone because he shifted to the edge of his chair.
"I don't mean to be rude but I've got a lot of work to do and Tory said this was urgent," the Chief explained.
"Yes, of course, I'm sorry," Roslin apologized.
The last thing she wanted to do was irritate him by wasting his time. Time was important. She knew that well. Glancing and the picture of Billy on her desk, she pressed on.
"This is a report Dr. Cottle gave to me," she said as laid her hands on top of the manila folder and dropped her glasses to the side. "It will confirm what I am about to tell you."
Tryol lifted his bushy eyebrows.
"You're not…it's not…" he stuttered, barely able to get the words out.
"No. I'm fine," she assured him, trying not to find it incredibly annoying that every frakking person in the fleet had asked her that question. Everyone is concerned about the health of the President, she told herself mentally.
"Good," he replied and settled his hands on his knees.
"I'm not sure exactly how to broach this topic, Tyrol," she told him truthfully, "So, I'm just going to spill it. I am your biological mother."
Tyrol pinned his eyes on her and when he turned his head slightly his eyes stayed on her. Slowly a smile appeared across his face. After the smile came a spurt of small chuckles. His head turned from side to side and he scanned the room as if looking from something. He turned around at looked back toward the doorway. Not the reaction Roslin was expecting, though she wasn't sure what she was expecting.
"Holy frak," he burst into a fit of laughter. "You totally had me going, Madame President. Who put you up to it? Hotdog? Apollo?"
"I'm not joking," Roslin said, with a smile on her face simply because Tyrol's roaring laughter was contagious.
"Oh, right, of course your not! Who is it that bet I wouldn't go for it? I'll bet they got paid off good. Kat? No, it's gotta be Kara. She's the only one with enough pull to put you up to it," Tyrol rambled.
Roslin, for all her cool exterior, was beginning to feel the sting of Tyrol's disbelief. The smile faded from her lips quickly.
"Was the old man in on it too? Frak! That was a good one. I've gotta get revenge, any suggestions?" Tyrol asked, wiping a tear away from laughing so hard.
"I know, we could tell Kara Nicholas is really Apollo's son," Tyrol said and the laughing started all over again.
Roslin inhaled deeply and forced herself to push through this. She wasn't counting on having to make him believe.
"Chief Tyrol, I assure you, I am not joking. No one put me up to this, except maybe Dr. Cottle. He threatened to tell you if I didn't. He thought it would be better coming from me. This is his report," Roslin said calmly and held out the report.
Tyrol stared at her with confusion and brought his eyes down to the report she held out. Timidly he took it and set it on his lap as he began to inspect the papers inside.
"They forged a report too? Dr. Cottle is in on it? Kara is a genius prankster," Tyrol mumbled, though he was not laughing anymore, something Roslin was grateful for.
"No one forged anything," Roslin stated.
"You can't be my mother," Tyrol stated so factually that for a split second of relief Roslin believed he might be right.
"Why?" she asked.
"Because, I knew my mother and my father. They were the best people I knew. Raised me from a baby, sent me to engineering school, died in the attack on the Colonies," Tyrol explained.
Well, peachy. Roslin thought to herself. His parents didn't tell him he was adopted and now I have to.
"They weren't your biological parents," Roslin said. Tyrol shook his head from side to side violently.
"I don't think so," he argued.
"You'll see there the blood test Dr. Cottle ran and—"
Tyrol stood up abruptly and tossed the folder on Roslin's desk. Papers scattered on the desk and fell to the floor.
"Frak Cottle's report," he yelled. "You are not my mother. I know you're not. My mother died in the attack on the Colonies. If I was adopted they would have told me. I don't know what kind of sick game you are playing but I won't be your stooge."
Roslin kept eye contact with him for as long as he remained in the room. He turned his back toward her and walked toward the door. Roslin stood up and placed her fists on each side of her desk.
"Chief Tyrol," she called after him but he refused to turn around.
Even after he was gone Roslin remained standing. That went over like a turd in a punch bowl, she thought, remembering that was one of her father's favorite colorful expressions. Her father's voice filled her mind. He would have liked Tyrol. She liked Tyrol and she couldn't blame him for not believing her. In one swift stroke Roslin had destroyed all trust he had in his adopted parents, who, from the sound of it seemed to be good people. Roslin took some satisfaction in that.
She looked at the clock. 13:10. Only a moment ago she was concerned about an hour not being enough time. She wished she would have told Adama 13:30. Then she would have less time to dwell on what had just happened. At least now Tyrol knew. The ball, so to speak, was in his pyramid court. All she could do was wait and see if maybe he would come around.