"Uh, Tory?"

Tory Foster looked up from the paperwork she had been going over to see Jack Reynolds watching her with a perturbed look on his face. Cocking an eyebrow, she set the papers down and stood up. Jack rarely looked anything but unflappable, a good quality for the President's head of security to have. Seeing his face now concerned her, even more than the President's odd behavior of late had been.

"What's going on?" she asked, stifling a yawn. It was past time for her to go to bed and judging from Jack's expression, she probably should have.

"There's a shuttle outside waiting to dock. It's Admiral Adama." Jack remarked, looking past her to the President's sleeping area. "What should I do?"

Tory shrugged. There went any chance of her getting to bed when it was still a decent hour. "Let him onboard. He's the admiral of the fleet."

Jack wasn't all that convinced. "Have you seen the two of them together lately? A New Caprican breeze would warm the temperature between the two of them. What happened between the two of them anyway?" He, like many others who had opportunity to observe the interactions between Admiral Adama and President Roslin, had been speculating on what could possibly have caused this level of breakdown in their relationship.

"It's not just him she's freezing out." Tory pointed out quietly. "It's everyone. I can't even remember the last time I saw her crack a smile."

"Yeah, well, I can't remember the last time I saw them in a room together and act like they were in the same room together." Jack remarked. "You think she's still pissed at him for trying to nuke the algae planet?"

"Whatever it is, the Vice-President knows about it." Tory replied. "But he's not talking, and that leads me to believe it was something a little more serious than that. It's almost like the President's lost most of her feelings. She's more hardcore than Colonel Tigh is."

"Don't remind me." Jack rolled his eyes. He had noticed that as well. The President had once made a regular practice of conversing with him throughout the day, and did the same thing with nearly everyone else who crossed her path. She honestly cared about the people she was interacting with, a rarity when you were dealing with politicians. But now, there was nothing. No small talk, no reaching out to touch people, no smiles or little laughs that showed she was in a good mood, no matter how frakked up the day was shaping up to be. It was almost as if a part of her had just vanished. "I'm gonna go meet the admiral when he docks."

"Make sure you remind him most people are sleeping right now." Tory advised. "If he wants another shouting match, tell him to go back to Galactica and call her on the wireless."

"The Vice-President knows, you said?" he asked.

"Yeah."

Jack's lips curled into a leering smirk. "And you weren't able to seduce it out of him? Shame, Tory, shame."

"Shut up, Reynolds." Tory threw a paperclip at him.

Chuckling, he started for the door only to stop in his tracks as Admiral Adama walked through that same door, a grim expression on his face. Jack nearly groaned and Tory took a step back. The infamous Adama Glare was out in full force and they had not been warned to hide under the nearest desk.

Tory recovered her nerve first and stepped forward. "Good evening, Admiral."

"Tory." Adama nodded at her, then to Jack.

"Admiral." Jack inclined his head.

"Is the President awake?" Adama asked, and Tory got the distinct expression that it wouldn't matter what the answer was. He was going in to see her whether she was awake, or wanted to see him, or not.

"Probably." she replied, reaching for the phone.

Adama held his hand up to stop her. "No need. I'll go right in."

Before either of them could protest, Adama had already disappeared through the curtain dividing the President's office from her personal space.

"She's gonna be pissed." Jack warned Tory, who could only nod in amusement.

William Adama was a patient man. He had to be, considering his position. But enough was enough. He had grown tired of this cat and mouse game that the President had been playing with him. She had sequestered herself on her ship for the better part of the last month since what he had come to know as the Hera incident. He paused and reconsidered his thoughts as his eyes adjusted to the dim light. Maybe "sequestered on her ship" wasn't the right phrase. She just hadn't set foot on Galactica since the day he had confronted her over what she had done.

At first he thought it was her conscience rearing its ugly head, but as the weeks went on and their business was conducted through phone calls, he got the feeling that she was somehow different. He had once been able to read Laura Roslin like a book, even over the wireless, when the only contact he had was the sound of her voice. Her voice had told him everything he needed to know, from what kind of mood she was in to how she was feeling and even if she had gotten enough sleep the night before. Hell, he had even managed to hear his way through a bluff on one memorable occasion when he had point blank asked her if she had had breakfast that morning!

Now there was nothing. Her voice betrayed nothing of what Laura was thinking or feeling or doing. It betrayed nothing of Laura. And he hadn't even noticed until Saul had pointed it out to him.

The XO had been unusually taciturn in his approach, explaining that he had been conducting some of the fleet's business with the President personally and she had been concerning him to the point where he thought she might be ill again.

Bill's heart had nearly stopped beating at the possibility. Could she be sick again? Was that why she had all but ended communications between them that didn't directly involve the welfare of the fleet? He had spent the past week scheduling meetings with her, only to be forced to either reschedule or deal with an unusually closemouthed Tom Zarek.

The cancelled meeting tonight had been the last straw. Making a hasty decision to shuttle over to Colonial One unannounced, he hadn't permitted himself to consider his actions until now, when he was on the verge of waking the President up from her sleep.

His assumption proved to be erroneous as he looked over at the small cot she had managed to bring back from New Caprica and found that it was empty.

"Laura?" he called softly, seeing the light on in her small bathroom.

"Who's there?" There it was again. The hard edge he was unaccustomed to hearing in her voice. The snappish tone that underlied no real annoyance, just a general lack of patience. A general lack of caring.

Disturbed by his thoughts, he called back, "If you don't recognize my voice, we're in some trouble."

The door to the bathroom opened and Laura stepped out, tying her bathrobe around her securely. She stared at him, meeting his eyes unflinchingly. "What are you doing here?"

"I got sick of the runaround you've been giving me." he replied. "Mind if I turn a light on?"

"Don't bother. You won't be staying very long." she snapped, sweeping past him to lay her clothes out on her desk. "There's a good reason I cancelled our meeting, Admiral."

"And if you had informed me as to the reason, I wouldn't be here right now." Bill replied testily. Something was definitely off. She had left the shower running, he could hear it. Normally she was anal about conservation.

"My reasons are hardly any of your concern." she retorted, every bit as frosty as he was. "If you'll excuse me, Admiral, I have an early day tomorrow."

"I see." Bill said slowly, realizing that he was speaking to her back. "I'd like to reschedule our meeting. There are some security issues we need to discuss."

"Send the reports over and I'll coordinate with Colonel Tigh on how best to implement your recommendations." Laura replied, wrapping a towel around her head. "If that's all-" she gave him a look that probably would have frozen a lesser man solid.

He realized that he wasn't going to get anywhere with this infuriating woman tonight. Tomorrow, when she was on his turf, he'd find out what the hell was wrong with her. What was it they used to say about home field advantage?

"For now." he replied. "Good night, Laura."

She turned on her heel and walked back into the bathroom, shutting the door behind her. He grew even more mystified as he heard the unmistakable click of a lock sliding into place. Who the hell was she locking out?

Shaking his head, Adama ignored the little voice inside that was practically screaming there was something very wrong here and left the President's personal area, where Jack and Tory were deep in discussion.

"No, I'm telling you, the picture just got knocked off the desk and before I could catch it, it hit the ground. The frame was totaled and I haven't been able to find a new one." Tory was telling Jack, who was shaking his head. "I thought she'd go ballistic, but she barely even looked at it before handing the picture to me and walking away."

"What picture?"

Both the aide and the head of security looked up guiltily, having been caught talking about their boss in front of someone who was slowly turning into an outsider again.

"The picture of her and Billy." Tory briefly lowered her eyes out of respect for Billy. Sometimes she still missed that kid. He would have known what to do to bring the president out of her apathetic funk.

"You broke the frame and she didn't break your fingers?" Bill exclaimed, his eyebrows rising.

"Didn't even blink." Tory replied. "Did you have a chance to speak with her?"

"See to it that she's on the shuttle to Galactica in the morning." Bill said. Before Tory could bristle at being ordered around like she had joined the Colonial Fleet, he went on to add, "There are a number of issues that have been piling up and I'd like to have them all resolved tomorrow."

TBC...