I promise this is an A-R story…But what's A-R without a little Zarek to make things interesting…Thanks for all the reviews!!!
Disclaimer: I don't own 'em…
Laura Roslin was having a bad day, to say the least. Her alarm went off two hours early for some mysterious reason, perhaps cylon sabotage, waking her up with a sharp buzzing as she was jolted out of the nightmare she was having. In a sense she was glad to be away from the strange dreams of Six, Sharon and Hera. Going back to sleep was no use so she decided to get an early start on the mountain of paperwork she had looming on her desk.
The Diloxin side effects had finally worn off and Laura was feeling like herself again, however, the smell of the coffee Tory placed in front of her was nearly enough to maker her sick again. Tory had burnt the coffee, making it even more undrinkable than usual and before her aid had even left her office she returned again, this time ushering in the vice-president. The unplanned meeting caused Laura to miss her breakfast altogether. Her stomach rumbled loudly as she tried to focus on the man across her desk.
Tom Zarek had a way of looking at her that made her stifle the urge to squirm in her plush chair on Colonial One. She had never quite been able to put her finger on way that look bugged her so much. Maybe it was the way his lips curved subtly upwards at the corners. Maybe it was the way his dark hair framed his features bringing out his dark eyebrows and reminding her of his dangerous background. Possibly, it was the way his eyes sparkled with innuendo as he stared at her like she was undressing in front of him.
Whatever the reason, Laura fought the urge to squirm as Zarek stared at her over her cluttered desk. Having him as her vice-president had worked out surprisingly well. True, he raised trouble and a few eyebrows whenever he could and caused her some grief no matter what political issue or debate he stuck his nose in. However, he kept the Quorum off her back and proved useful in…shadier matters of politics, something Roslin usually liked to turn a blind eye to.
To top it all off, he was much better than her last vice-president who she now referred to in her mind only as little frakker. Each time she thought about Giaus Baltar she had to do her utmost to keep the words from slipping out through gritted teeth, especially with the results of the trail.
"Wouldn't you agree?" Tom was asking, snapping Roslin out of her reverie.
He picked up the cup of barely drinkable coffee and took a sip, keeping his eyes on her over the rim. Suddenly, Roslin knew what it was that bugged her. That insinuating, goddess worshiping glint in Zarek's eyes was extremely flattering to her.
"Yes, I would," she began, "But the Quorum is only blowing hot air. They don't really want me to resign because of my illness, they just want some attention. Tell them to go ahead with their proposed bill as long as they stop playing up the cancer issue. I have enough trouble keeping the press happy about it, the last thing I want is for the Quorum to start in too."
Zarek began to jot something down in his black note book and Laura took the moment to have a little fun.
"Don't count on it happening often," she said slyly.
His head quickly lifted as his hand remained writing.
"What?" he questioned with a soft smile.
"Me agreeing with you," she only half teased.
The glint returned to Zarek's eyes.
"I would never be so presumptuous, Madame President," he replied with a widening smile.
He went back to his writing, leaving the words hanging in the air between them.
"You, presumptuous, never," Laura said sarcastically, causing Zarek to smile down at his notebook.
Laura liked talking to him like this. His tone held just a little bit of inappropriate implication and it made things interesting. One William Adama would never flirt with her as openly as Zarek did. Of course, Laura thought with a shrug, Adama had a way of looking at her all his own and his look was far more confusing and exciting than Tom's ever could be.
When she was with Zarek, however, she felt mostly like a woman and only a little like the President. When she was with Adama the opposite was true, though the few times Adama made her feel like a woman were frightening. She found herself always wondering when their next moment would come…
"What could you possibly be thinking," Zarek mused, almost more to himself than Roslin.
That cocky half smile remained on his lips. Laura's reply was to reflect the look right back at him. She bent forward and picked up the pen resting on a stack of papers.
"I'm thinking I'll never finish all of this paper work with you sitting there," she replied, reaching out a hand and spreading the papers across her desk so she could view them all at once.
"You are a mystery to me, Laura, but your still enough like my mother for me to know that wasn't at all what you were just thinking," he replied in that cool well mannered far to sure of himself voice.
His voice purred in his throat like the sound of a cat before it makes a kill.
"Oh really," she stated, in her own faux sweet politician tone.
"You were probably trying to figure out how to smack me without garnering bad publicity," he joked as he leaned back in the chair.
Roslin tilted her head to the side and giggled a little but didn't trust herself to reply. Why am I acting so damn flirty? She wondered silently to herself as her forced her lightheartedness away. No more reading The Courting of Charlotte Astor she vowed with a smirk, which was another irritation in her already bad morning.
Since returning from Galactica she couldn't find the book anywhere. She thought she brought it back to Colonial One, but figured she must have left it at the life station. The best chapters were left, and, though she had read them a dozen times, she had been feeling romance starved as of late. Now her only copy of her favorite romance…er…'classic' was missing in action. Oh well, chalk it up to her love life—missing in action too.
"How come you never married or had children?" Tom said as casually as he joked earlier.
The question was so smooth the meaning behind it took a few minutes to smack Roslin over the head. Zarek had crossed the line of professionalism and he needed to be warned. That was always Tom's problem; he just went one step too far, as opposed to Adama who never even took the first step to begin with.
"The trouble with you Mr. Zarek is you ask too many questions that are, frankly, none of your damn business," Laura remarked with a pleasant smile.
"Oh," Zarek sputtered with alarm, "I hit a nerve, did I."
Roslin glared at him from behind her glasses.
"I'm sorry, I don't have a sixth sense about you like Ad—"
She pushed herself up from her chair as signal that it was time for him to leave. As she did so, she heard a large ripping nose. Tom stood up and when he heard the sound his eyes grew wider.
"What was that?" Roslin asked, looking behind her to where the sound was coming from.
Zarek began to round her desk and when she looked up at him, he was only inches away and grinning playfully.
"What?" she asked, his smile was catching.
He took a few steps closer to her and his nose brushed against her hair as he leaned down with his lips close to her ear. She resisted the urge to slap him across the room until she was sure of what he was doing.
"Madame President, I'm afraid your pants didn't survive this particular political encounter," he whispered.
Laura moved her head back just a little to look him in the eyes. He was still grinning and she maneuvered her hand around to feel to split right up the back of her pants. Surprised she bent over to see if she could see the damage. The large split in the seam revealed her undergarments for the entire world to see, which at this moment included Tom Zarek.
She straightened back up and the irritation at losing her favorite pair of dress pants caused her to forget that Zarek was standing to close. She sighed with disgust and looked up at him. For the briefest of seconds she thought he might try to kiss her. He looked liked he wanted to and she swore his head inched a little closer.
"…but you are a mystery I'd like to unravel," he said softly, brushing the back of his fingers along her cheek.
She grabbed him hard by the wrist and pushed him away forcefully.
"Keep your hands to yourself Mr. Zarek or you may have to live without them," she snapped a little more harshly than she expected.
Zarek backed away quietly and to her surprise he seemed a little embarrassed. Laura hadn't considered she might actually hurt his feelings…in fact, before this moment she didn't even realize Tom Zarek had feelings. She felt like she should say something.
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean too—" she began but he cut her off.
"Nah, never mind," he said, his good spirits back, "You're a beautiful woman, Laura. I was just being a man…but we both know I'm not the right man, am I?"
The way he lifted his brief case off of the chair indicated that he wasn't expecting her to answer. He sent her a resigned-to-what-would-never-be look before he smiled, bowed his head respectfully and walked out of her office. Yes, she thought to herself, this time with a little sadness, Tom Zarek was definitely a good sport. How she ever picked the little frakker for her vice-president over Tom Zarek was completely beyond her comprehension.
She was about to sit down and get some paperwork done when Tory interrupted again, informing her that a Raptor was ready to take her to Galacitca. Laura barely had time to change into a skirt, which she did while cursing the bad luck that had ruined her favorite pair of dress pants, before leaving for the meeting.
And now here she was.
How she had managed to get herself into this particular situation was a marvel in itself. Why not? She thought. So far today I've been jolted out of my sleep, deprived of my breakfast, forced to consume nasty coffee, fated to lose my favorite pair of pants and hit on by my vice-president. This just goes with the turning of the tide today.
The way Laura Roslin saw it she had three options. She could wait it out, and pray to the Lords of Kobol that someone would come in. She could make a mad dash for the next stall and hope if someone did enter the co-ed bathroom it wouldn't be a man. Or she could stand up, adjust her clothing properly and be uncomfortable for the rest of the day. The third option was least appealing since she was already very cranky with an upset stomach.
Laura glanced at the four grey walls surrounding her as she sat there. In ten minutes her meeting would start. Whatever her decision it would have to be made quickly. For a brief moment she couldn't help reviling in the fact that her greatest problem right here and now wasn't the cylons, the concerns of the civilian fleet, or her complicated relationship with the Admiral. Right now, her greatest concern was that the Galactica janitor had not refilled the dispenser in her bathroom stall. With a suppressed smile she considered the sweet revenge of ordering said janitor out the airlock.
This never would have happened back on Caprica. At least, if Laura had been in a public restroom back on the Colonies she would have her purse hanging on the door, or, if there was no hook, then perhaps around her neck. Never at any moment would she have dared let her purse make contact with the frightening world of the public restroom floor. In the depths of her old purse she could find a wrinkled napkin or a half used tissue or a band-aid wrapper, anything that might bail her out of the situation she was in now.
She heard the door open quickly. With baited breath she watched as standard grade military boots tromped across the floor and into the stall next to hers. There was a possibility the person in the next booth was a woman…Laura strained her ears. She heard the sound of the waxie-paper being placed on the seat. Bingo. It was a woman.
"Excuse me," Laura said, her voice the most timid she had heard it in a long time.
There was silence. Finally the person spoke.
"Madame President?"
At first Laura was alarmed the woman recognized her voice, but she also recognized the voice speaking to her.
"Sharon, you have no idea what impeccable timing you have," Laura said letting the relief and joy seep into her voice.
Sharon was again silent. Okay, so she wasn't technically a woman, but at this point Laura really didn't care.
"Could you, would you mind," Laura began with some difficultly, "there is no toilet paper in this stall."
This time the silence filling the bathroom air was pregnant with Sharon's struggle to hold in laughter. The humor of the situation was not lost on Laura. Here she was the President of the Twelve Colonies, asking for toilet paper as if it were a matter of life and death and her fate was in the hands of a cylon. Laura rolled her eyes upward.
"Over or under?" Sharon asked, her voice quivering with amusement.
"Under, if you don't mind," Laura replied, her voice flat.
She heard the rumble of the roll turning and then the ripping of paper. A hand with a puffy white ball of salvation appeared from under the stall. Laura reached down and grabbed it.
"Thanks," she said, glad that she was in the enclosed space so no one could see her embarrassed grimace.
The four grey walls that held her captive no longer seemed a threat and she was glad to finally exit them feeling somewhat better. She walked over to the sink and it wasn't long before Sharon appeared at her side.
Laura kept her gaze averted downward, not wanting to make eye contact with her toilet paper supplier.
"I put a roll in that stall, so the next poor user doesn't have that problem," Sharon whispered to Laura.
Despite her bad morning, Laura couldn't help but giggle at the joke. Sharon actually joined her. The moment was odd and Laura couldn't help feeling a bond emerging between them. Laura rarely got a chance to interact with Adama's crew, though she wished the situation could have been less embarrassing.
"I think I might have cried if you hadn't come along," Laura said still smiling and wiping her hands with the paper towel.
"There's nothing worse than that," Sharon agreed. "For cylons too."
Laura gave her a final smile and started to leave when she felt her leg snag on something.
"Ouch," she involuntarily yelped as she felt a sharp sting near her ankle.
"Except maybe that," Sharon added, looking down at Laura's leg.
The President followed Agathon's gaze to see a tiny piece of metal poking out from the wall. Laura was bleeding a little, but the worse part was her nylons had a run in them all the way up.
"Oh, frak," she cursed under her breath.
Sharon must have heard because when Roslin looked up she saw the girl's wide eyed smirking expression.
"Pardon my language," Laura said, though she was sure Sharon had said far worse. "The one pair of panty hose left in all humanity and I've just ruined them."
"That's why I like pants," Sharon informed.
Laura ripped a towel away from the dispenser and bent down to wipe away the blood trickling down her ankle.
"My pants split right up the ass this morning. Am I gaining weight? I don't feel like I'm fat or clumsy, for that matter, but obviously my clothes don't agree with me today," Laura mumbled.
She sighed in frustration as she traced the run in the stocking widening and climbing higher by the second.
"I'll get you a band-aid," Sharon offered as she moved toward the first aid box on the bathroom wall.
Laura nodded and returned to her solace inside the stall trying not to remember that the red blood on the towel partially belonged to Sharon's child. With more than a little angry tugging she pulled off the ruined clothes and swung open the stall door.
Sharon was waiting with a hand out stretched, a band-aid between her thumb and forefinger. She looked as if she was on a diplomatic peace mission offering a scared item to some violent political group as a sign of good faith. Laura snatched the band-aid from Sharon and went to putting it over the small scrap on her leg. No nylons and now a big ugly band-aid in plain sight for all to see.
"Thank you, Lieutenant," Laura muttered.
"Madame President," Sharon said, gaining Roslin's attention. "Last night…." The cylon trailed off, letting Roslin fill in the blanks.
Laura eyed Sharon closely and after thinking about the words came to a decision.
"Later," she replied and stepped out of the head.
Discussing the ramifications of the dreams she shared with Sharon, Six and Hera in a public restroom was not high on her list-of-things-to-do-before-I-die.
When she stepped into Adama quarters she was both relieved and of all emotions irritated that he didn't notice her leg. Adama had every right not to notice her leg and furthermore, she reasoned to herself, unlike Tom Zarek, Bill knew such an act would be totally inappropriate. Still, his lack of interest irritated her all the same. It made her feel Presidential, yes, but not much like a woman who just ripped her pantyhose.
"Madame President," he greeted in that gravelly tone.
She hadn't heard his voice since he visited her in the life station. She missed the sound of it. Before he could begin a conversation with her, Lee Adama and Colonel Tigh entered through the hatch.
Lee was carrying some bound pages under his arm and his face nearly turned white when he saw Laura. He should be afraid, Laura mused with a smirk as she leaned against Adama's desk. Since the fiasco at Baltar's trial, she hadn't seen her…her what? Her military advisor? Her Captain Apollo? Her 'almost' son? Why was it that every relationship she had with an Adama was the most baffling, complicated…
"Madame President, you're not going to like this," Lee said as he approached.
He took one of the books from under his arm and offered it to her. Giving him no satisfaction in seeing her smile or even acknowledging his presence she snatched the book.
"What is this?" she questioned putting on her glasses.
Apparently this was something Tigh, Bill, and Lee all knew about.
"This morning we found it circulating around the fleet," Tigh answered with distain.
"Baltar had a series of essays published," Bill continued as Laura looked down to the item in her hands. She saw the little frakker's name sprawled across the cover and she opened to the first page.
The Rise and Fall of the Democratic System was the title of the first essay. She thumbed through a few of the pages and stopped when she found another essay titled The Reign of the Elite Class. This one caught her attention and she picked a paragraph at random to begin reading:
"...We no longer live in a democratic system but instead a monarchy.
Each day we watch our king and queen exert their power over us, filtering
away a little of our souls while they accumulate more wealth and power. Do
we really trust our immortal spirits to a crippled old man and a menopausal drug
addict?
Indeed, it is time for the underclass to be heard. It is time for a change in
our way of life. Time for a new kind of leadership. I, Gaius Baltar, give
you my solemn oath to fight for change. I have been selected to usher in a new era
of humanity…"
Laura stopped reading when she felt her gag reflexes engaging. How dare that little frakker write something like this? He was like a parasite spreading slanderous and insulting lies throughout the fleet. Never had Laura wanted to chuck his ass out the airlock more than she did right now.
"What part did you read?" Tigh asked.
Roslin tried to read his expression but she was seeing too much red to really see him.
"Crippled old man? Menopausal drug addict? Selected to usher in a new era?" Roslin mumbled to herself more than anyone else. "Puerile garbage."
"The worst part is, this kind of writing is stirring up the fleet," Apollo explained.
"It only gets more bizarre as you keep reading," Adama said to Laura.
"You say this is being widely circulated?" Roslin questioned, turning her attention to Apollo.
"Yes. We didn't know about it until it was too late," Lee told her with a sheepish shrug of his shoulders.
His eyes hinted at his sadness in failing her yet again. She felt a little sorry for him.
"Freedom of speech," she said mockingly.
Putting her hands on her hips she paced a few steps next to Adama's desk.
"We could attack the little frakker where he sleeps, put a stop to all of this," Tigh offered with feeling and eager hopefulness.
Laura sent him a sharp look since he referred to the little frakker as the little frakker. Thinking like Colonel Tigh didn't put her mind at ease.
"And make a martyr out of him," Bill said to his friend.
"Right now, the only thing we can do is ignore it," Roslin started to say.
She walked closer to the three men with her hands still on her hips.
"If people are really so slow to remember what Bal-tar put them through on New Caprica then there is no hope left for humanity."
Roslin had a hard time choking out his name.
"So that's it? We just forget it?" Lee questioned, clearly not liking the answer.
"We have to be patient. Hope Baltar goes too far and hangs himself with all this talk," Bill explained to his son.
Laura watched the interaction with interest. Bill's affection for his son, though subtle, was always very endearing to her. She knew Bill considered himself a bad father but from her perspective it didn't seem that way at all.
Apollo nodded and the four of them sat down to begin going over the weekly agenda of things to be taken care of within the fleet and on Galactica. It was a long tedious process and Laura felt uncomfortable sitting there for so long without her nylons. She just wanted this bad day to be over with. By far the worst event of the day was Little Frakker's writings. If she never had to see his face again it would be too soon.
The gall of the man, to dare defy her and Adama after all they had sacrificed, personally and professionally, for the fleet. Baltar didn't know the meaning of the word. Roslin knew, knew that the only person Baltar cared about was himself. That kind of man couldn't be in charge of leading the fleet. When he was given that charge look what had happened. Riots on the streets, a downturn in the already struggling economy, the uprooting of individual rights, and lack of a functioning government all came crashing down on the fleet as Baltar held up on her ship with his prostitutes.
Laura shuttered at that thought. She was tired and it was time to go home.
After the day she had she was looking forward to getting a full night sleep. When she arrived back on Colonial One Chief Tyrol and stopped by and she had negotiated a successful truce with the union, as Baltar's writings had caused some unrest already. Starbuck also made a trip to Colonial One simply because she wanted to say hi to the President. Laura, though she didn't show it, was actually quite touched at the gesture. Just as the day seemed to be taking a turn for the better it came to an end.
Laura was sure tonight, unless the dreams started again, she would sleep soundly. The day she had was leaving her feeling very unsatisfied and she was anxious to put a few hours of sleep between herself and the memories of it.
The night started off well, with a dreamless sleep and the soothing sound of the engines below deck. At first the sound of the engines rumbling kept her awake but with the passage of time she had come to find the sound almost melodic. The sound of the engine noise was soon replaced by voices. Much to her dismay she knew exactly whose voices they were. Sharon Agathon was crying out for her daughter and Hera would giggle or laugh in the distance.
The most intense voice, however, belong to the blond cylon woman being held in the brig. Laura tossed and turned because even though her conscience mind knew there were many cylon models, the voice in her head belong to the model in the brig. She couldn't figure out how or why but the model in the brig was different.
Not only was the voice strong, each time Laura heard it she felt a kind of kinship with the cylon model six. She felt compelled to wake up, order a raptor, and head straight for the brig to visit the creature. Laura was confused and afraid and her mind involuntarily searched for a safe haven. Bill, of course, being her refuge.
"Laura," Six's voice said loudly in her mind, "Laura, wake up. You're in danger."
The blond woman's image flashed in the mist of bright light willing her to wake up.
Laura jerked upright in bed, the sound of her own voice hollow in her ears. She was sweating and wasn't quite sure if she had spoken out loud. When her eyes focused she saw people standing around her wearing gas masks. She blinked her eyes a few times and they began to water from the smoke filling the air.
"She's awake," one of them said through her mask.
It took Laura a few moments to realize it was Lt. Agathon, but even before she woke up Laura knew Sharon would be there.
"Thank Kobol," another marine said with relief.
"There some kind of gas leak contaminating the ship. We have to get you out, now," Sharon explained.
Laura struggled to comprehend the words.
There was an urgency in her voice that made Laura throw back the covers. Why of all people was it Sharon who came to her rescue? Laura inhaled and began to cough causing her to stumble out of bed. Another solider offered her a mask which she gladly took. They escorted her quickly to the door and much to her slightly-ridiculous-given-the-situation, yet ever working brain functions she was loath to miss the opportunity to grab her robe, or a blanket or anything to cover up her nightgown.
Parading around in front of the military, and anyone who happened to be awake, in nothing but her nightgown was…an undermining of her authority to say the least. The President of the Twelve Colonies does not wear a silky blue slightly torn nightgown. The President of the Twelve Colonies does not walk around barefoot with legs exposed to mid thigh no matter what the situation. Laura nearly groaned out loud as she imagined headlines above pictures if the press every snapped a shot of her like this.
At least Laura took some comfort in seeing Tory inside the waiting Raptor looking even more disheveled than her President. Laura's nightgown covered most of the important parts, but Tory barely had on any clothes to speak of and her hair was a complete mess. Laura suddenly reached up to her own hair and after finding nothing but a tangled mess sat with exhaustion next to her aide.
"What time is it?" was the first coherent thing Laura could formulate after everything that had just happened.
Tory, with eyes narrowed and heavy with sleep, shook her head.
"About two thirty," Helo answered from the co-pilot's chair as his wife crawled over the passengers to her seat next to him.
"Where are we going?" Laura asked again.
Apparently even the strenuous events unfolding now were not enough to snap Tory out of the funk she was in.
"Galactica, I think," she said with a yawn.
Earlier in the week, when Adama and Zarek stood facing each other down, Laura had realized that things were beginning to get out of hand regarding her heart, but now her own heart confirmed it. Here she was being evacuated from her own ship, nearly killed in what could be an assassination attempt, fleeing from gas that threatens to permanently disable the living quarters of four hundred of her people, and all she could think was…I need a blanket, I need a jacket, I need something, anything to cover myself up. Bill is on Galactica and I will die before I let him see me half naked.
"Madame President," Sharon said as she started the Raptor's engines, "We need to talk."
Briefly, the cylon made eye contact with Laura. Her eyes were direct but full of confusion. Somehow, Laura knew it wasn't a coincidence Sharon was the one to find her and lead her to safety. The President made her way to the front of the Raptor and spent the rest of the flight talking in a low voice to Lt. Agathon.