Disclaimer: Battlestar Galactica belongs to Ronald D. Moore and the Sci-Fi channel. Violet Adama is mine.
Chapter 4: Girl talk
Wearing the t-shirt that Roslin had found her, Violet had already crawled under the covers of her make-shift bed, which was actually two seats with the armrests raised up and lots of blankets. Seeing the time as a good opportunity, Roslin decided to keep talking with the girl. She smirked at the idea that it was beginning to look like an old-fashioned slumber party.
"Violet, Bill told me that he's planning on calling you his niece so that the situation will not be quite so complicated for all of us," Roslin mentioned.
The girl noted her use of the admiral's first name. "I suppose that'll have to be acceptable. Should I just keep calling you 'Madame President'?"
"When it's just us, or when we are with your father- I mean… the admiral and family members, you can call me 'Laura' for now," part of me wouldn't mind if you wanted to call me 'mom,' but it would cause too much confusing.
So using his first name happens on accident with you, the girl assessed. Gathering up the blankets around her, Violet let a small smile slip through. "This all means that I should probably start calling him 'Uncle Bill,' but he'd probably still let me call him 'Dad' in private. And it's 'Vie,'" she reminded.
The president wandered to herself why Adama had not corrected Violet yet when she had continued to call him, 'Dad.' "I need to ask you a more personal question: did your mother ever have breast cancer?" Roslin inquired.
"Yes, and we almost lost her, but they used Cylon DNA to cure her. It was Baltar's idea. Nobody liked the guy much, but we've been short on medical staff. We almost lost Dad too. A Cylon shot him and it scared all of us," the girl replied, taking a breath and pausing in the memory.
"Similar things happened here," Roslin stated plainly, reaching out to squeeze the girl's hand for a moment.
Violet's green eyes studied Roslin's for a moment. "Why did you ask?"
"I had breast cancer and nearly died of it, but tissue from an unborn Cylon-human hybrid saved me. You need to be aware of what runs in your family so that you get regular checkups, especially when you're older," Roslin said quickly, seeming uncomfortable about having been saved from death by a Cylon.
"At least both of my parents are here, and someday you guys will end up at least dating each other," Violet commented.
Roslin sighed and faced the girl with one of her teacher expressions. "There is something that I want you to understand. I'm the president and I have the press to consider as well as the opinions of the colonists. He's the admiral and certain conflicts of interest could hurt how the fleet sees him," Roslin attempted to explain.
"I didn't say that you had to make a relationship public," Violet commented in a calm, but blunt way that reminded Roslin of the admiral.
The older woman smirked and shook her head. "You're young, you don't understand caution."
Violet sat back in the seat and folded her hand, watching Roslin as Adama had from time to time. "When you get older, you worry more about what other people think. If there was someone you really loved and you could separate how you deal with him personally and how you deal with him professionally, then a relationship could work."
Good grief, she reminds me of Bill. Roslin studied the girl and chuckled lightly. "You sound as though you know what you're talking about, but you're seventeen. Where did you learn to give advice from on relationships?" she probed in an easygoing, yet teacher-like way.
"I had two parents who gave me lots of advice over the years," she responded frankly.
The president thought for a moment. "Someone gave you 'the talk' right?"
Violet smirked. "Of course you did- I mean my mom did. She also gave the 'the talk' about not being physically involved with anyone before marriage."
A relieved smile crossed the president's face. Had I remembered that, I wouldn't have been involved with Richard Adar. "There is something I was wondering about," Roslin paused, placing her teacup on the rolling table behind her. "Did you leave any boyfriends behind? And how did you end up knowing an engineer who would simply push you into a shuttle instead of placing you with other people escaping?"
The girl blushed. "Jake, the guy who put me on the shuttle, was my boyfriend. We had only been dating for a couple of weeks though. I told Mom about him and she said that I had better things to do."
"Did your father know?" Roslin probed.
Violet shook her head adamantly. "No. I was planning on saying something eventually, but with a one brother working with him, one that boxes, and the admiral as my dad, I didn't want to scare Jake off."
"I see your point. Have you finished secondary school?" the president inquired.
"Yes, two months ago. I was going to be a teacher, like my mom. But then Caprica got attacked and plans changed. She helped me finish on my own, and Dad wanted me in CIC so I would learn other skills," Violet mentioned.
"When is your birthday?" the president continued.
"I'll be eighteen in ten months, on the third," she replied.
Roslin crossed her knees. "Your fa-I mean the admiral wants to find a place for you during the day that you have something to do here. One option is that you could work with the children of some of the colonists during the day. Another option for you is to help me with paperwork. What do you want to do?"
Violet sat cross-legged and thought for a moment, looking out at the stars. "I want to teach," she replied simply.
Roslin smiled kindly, noting that the girl's interest followed her own. "Is there any particular age level you'd like to work with?"
"I think I'd like to work with teenagers for now," Violet answered with a yawn. "It's time for bed, isn't it?"
The president nodded and patted Violet on the head. "Yes, it is. I'll make a few calls to the colony ships in the morning and see if they'd like an assistant."
Violet brightened. "Thanks. Goodnight, Madame Pre-Laura," she said with another yawn.
"Goodnight, Vie," Roslin almost whispered as she headed toward her own bed.
While Violet fell asleep almost instantly, Roslin was not so fortunate. Her mind kept her occupied, zeroing in on the girl who could have been her daughter. I wonder if she's used to talking with her mother before going to sleep. Is this what it would be like to have a teenage daughter? Poor Bill, trying to take responsibility for something that was dumped in his lap. Why does he keep doing that? She's going to need more than just him though, Roslin reasoned before finally succumbing to sleep.
While Violet took a morning shower, Roslin called in a few favors with the educators on the colony ships and then called for Tory. The aide arrived, wearing one of her usual business suites and looking ready for whatever would be asked of her. "Madame President," she greeted.
"Tory, have a seat," Roslin began. After her aide was sitting on the chair in front of her desk, she continued. "You are probably wondering who the young lady is that you saw Admiral Adama bring here yesterday."
"I had figured that he had some logical reason for bothering you with a teenager," Tory mentioned.
Roslin crossed her ankles and folded her hands on her desk, sighing. "That teenager is my daughter, but not from this timeline."
Tory's eyes widened. "But Madame President, you've never mentioned-"
Roslin put her hand up dismissively. "Technically she isn't my daughter; she just has my DNA. There was an engine accident when she jumped and she ended up in our universe. I think it's compared to a parallel universe, where different decisions were made that resulted in things happening differently for her. The point is that she looks like me because in her universe the admiral and I are her parents."
"Madame President, if anyone makes a connection of this sort between you two, the press will have a field day with-" Roslin interrupted Tory again.
"They won't find out because I will make an effort not to be in any pictures with her, and because her last name is 'Adama,' the admiral thought it best to pass her off as his niece from his brother who died on Caprica," Roslin explained.
Tory looked horrified. "But Madame President, they'll think that you had an affair with his brother!"
"Oh for Kobol's sake, we don't look that much alike!" the president exclaimed.
"And where do you intend to put her?" Tory pursued.
"As soon as she gets out of the shower, I'm sending her to one of the colony ships to act as a teacher's aide for a few classes. I would like you to accompany her," Roslin ended.
Tory's expression of impatience and frustration was not hidden well. "But why should either of you have anything to do with her if she is not technically your child?"
The president sat back and moved her glasses, rubbing her eyes. Good grief, for someone who only pulls her hair back and wears a day uniform, she certainly takes a long time in the bathroom. "For him, she has his last name on her ID card. For me, because if what the cancer did to my body, and the fact of time, she is the closest thing that I will ever see to a child of my own. She's seventeen and she still needs guidance," Roslin clarified.
"This is a bad idea and I would advise against it," Tory commented.
"Are you going to escort her over to the ship or not?" Roslin was done arguing.
The aide sighed resolutely. "Yes, Madame President."
Roslin phoned Adama to tell him where Violet would be for most of the day after the girl and Tory had left. Later on the shuttle, Violet watched Tory from her seat on their way to one of the colony ships, raising her eyebrow at the aide. The girl had crossed her ankles and folded her hands. Tory eyed her suspiciously. "Don't sit like that, you look too much like the president," she instructed.
Leaning her elbow on the armrest of the seat, Violet's mouth twitched and she sighed. "That makes you look like her too. You need to change how you sit and move. If the press puts the two of you together, it could be disastrous for her presidency," Tory pointed out primly.
She noticed a pen on the seat and sighed heavily as she began twiddling the pen between two of her fingers. "You can't do that either," the aide stated.
When Violet sat forward, slouching with her elbows on her thighs, she looked more like Adama. Meeting the aide's eyes, she spoke. "Did you choose to be here? Did you get to choose your job?" she questioned.
Tory swallowed, confused at the question. "Of course I chose to be here. Working with the president seemed to be the best use of my time."
"I didn't choose to be here. I came here by accident and I can't go back because everyone I've ever known is dead. I can't just shut off habits that I've had since I was a child. Since we first met, you've been staring at me, telling me off with 'the look.' I'm tired of you treating me like I have no right to talk to the president when she's fine with me," Violet paused and took a deep breath. "I know you don't like me, but that doesn't mean that we have to blatantly hate each other. We can be enemies, or we can be civil. Personally I'd prefer to be civil, unless you're not capable of it," she ended calmly.
The aide pursed her lips together, shocked at Violet's perceived audacity. However, she considered the girl's words before replying. "We ought to remain civil," no apology, just a flat truce.
Violet put her hand out, hoping that the other young woman would shake it. Tory did so reluctantly as the shuttle docked by the colony ship.
(My thanks to carolann, Jojo, Trinity Everett, and Mariel3 for reviews :D).